“The education minister. I think he is going about it all wrong. He will ruin the schoolkids’ lives.”

“So?”

“So I have to type ‘kalvi’ [education] a lot, don’t I? I am running low on Ks.”

“I hope you have enough dots to put above the I. Otherwise, you’ll end up printing ‘kalavi’ [sex] instead of ‘kalvi.’ Although, it’s not going to be the end of the world if you print ‘sex’ instead of ‘education’ after all!”

Isakki burst into the most animated laughter, as if he didn’t care who was watching. It was also his way of making sure they were done talking about the advertisement.

One of the boys who worked at the press walked in with a coffee in one hand and a parcel of food in the other.

“Brother, nothing for me?” asked Isakki, licking his lips.

“Come on in,” said Francis, putting his arms around him and inviting him into the press.

“No, no, actually, I am quite full. Thank you! I need to get going,” said Isakki, releasing himself from Francis’s affectionate hold.

He arrived at the clock-tower junction, nodding at each merchant sitting at the cashbox of every store along the way. He stopped at a turn at the junction and examined the covers of the magazines hanging at the newsstands. “Sleazy bastards! Making money printing dirty pictures of women? Just you wait. I will sort you out. I’ll make your life miserable,” he muttered. Then he walked toward the storefront and, with an air of entitlement, picked up an English newspaper and scanned the front page casually, like he was checking to see if they had come even close to printing the things he wrote for them correctly.

Just then, two little boys in shorts arrived at the store to buy a copy of the children’s magazine The Little Mouse. But they forgot what they had come for and instead stood staring at Isakki. He took the look of surprise on their faces to mean he had been recognized. He knitted his brows to show that he could not care less, turned to the editorial page, and gave it a quick glance from top to bottom. He frowned even more and then folded the paper carelessly and in an exaggerated huff. The newsagent reached out and took the paper from him, refolded it neatly for sale, and smiled at Isakki.

“These fellows have no substance in their lead articles, brother. It’s all nonsense! Even their English is bad!” Isakki said, and smiled good-naturedly at the little boys in front of him. They snapped out of their reverie and, with timid smiles, handed over their money and walked away with their magazine.