‘Good. You can leave now, Penaru, I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Hukum, saheb.’

As evening fell, Abhimanyu began to feel claustrophobic in the small apartment – a far cry from the high-ceiling grandeur of the palace. Deciding to prepare early for his first social event in Bombay – a dinner at the Orient Club in his honour – he pulled out a pair of white trousers to go with his polo t-shirt and blue sports jacket. Here was a change he had been looking forward to – he no longer had to wear his ‘royal’ clothes for social gatherings.

Before he had spent even a day in his new home, a sizable population of young princes and princesses who had moved to Bombay after August 1947 had heard about his arrival, and had organized the dinner party to welcome him to the city. The shy prince was uncomfortable with such unnecessary socializing, at least not as soon as he’d arrived, but he didn’t want to pass up a chance of meeting members of the cricket club of Bombay, who had also been invited to the party.

Ready for the dinner party, Abhimanyu realized there was some time to kill, and decided to take a quick stroll by the promenade before heading to the club.

The balmy Bombay sea breeze lifted his spirits as he mingled with the crowd of people as anonymously as he’d hoped. He would have liked to stay there much longer, and almost considered cancelling on the dinner, but he could imagine the scandal his absence would cause in Bombay’s social scene.

When he reached the club, he was glad he’d reconsidered. The party guests comprised the who’s who of Bombay – a handful of erstwhile royals from all over India, a couple of British and European bureaucrats, local cricketers and celebrities from the Hindi film industry. Abhimanyu soon learned that many young aristocrats had set up their base in the city. With their status having been taken away from them in their respective states but millions of rupees in old money still left in their coffers – money that could be claimed from them by the new central government at any moment – the erstwhile royals had gravitated to the commercial capital of India to try their luck in various businesses. From textiles and the stock market to diamonds and the film industry, old money was flowing into every field of commerce in an attempt to renew and shield it from the sarkari babus.

Abhimanyu’s motive, of course, was different. He was in Bombay to face the best of the best in Indian cricket and get a chance to prove his mettle in the international arena, to prove that he was more than a former prince, and that he too could find his place in this new India.

‘I see the prince likes to have his drinks rather slowly,’ a bearded man said, approaching Abhimanyu as he nursed his gin and tonic.

‘I had a long journey today, so I’m just taking it easy,’ Abhimanyu said with a smile.