So Korok reluctantly extended his bandaged left foot. One of the mahji’s daughters had bandaged it up for him and given him an ointment for his back and ankles, which hurt all over. If Korok had been lighter-skinned, Anchita would have seen the blackening welts from the police sticks on his ankles.

‘I’m now going to change the bandage. Don’t run away. Okay, Korok?’

He looked a bit doubtful.

‘You won’t run away, will you?’ asked Anchita.

He looked even more doubtful and shrank a little, saying it was all right, and the bandage didn’t need changing.

‘You think I can’t bandage as well as the mahji’s daughter, is it? I have been trained in first aid. I am good at this, probably better than her, too. Now stay still.’ And Anchita remembered to add a ‘please’.

So she peeled off the bandage, poured some antiseptic on the wound on his foot, and wrapped it up.

And she actually did it well. Korok hadn’t been to a hospital after his mother died, but he knew a properly-wrapped bandage when he saw one.

Then Anchita took a tube of ointment, squeezed some of it on a wad of cotton and wanted to put it on Korok’s ankles, but he could not have that, no he couldn’t, so he took it from her and rubbed the ointment on his ankles himself. The ointment stung a little, but he supposed it was good for the pain, so he thought maybe he could put some on his back later, if Anchita left the tube with him.

‘The tube is for you. You won’t let me put the ointment on your back, so you will have to do it yourself. And now,’ she said, opening the bags, ‘I have things for you.’

She took out a tiered tiffin box, a plate and a spoon, and placed them on the bed. ‘Rice, dal and vegetables. I ate, so now I am going to stay here and watch you eat. Which you must. You haven’t eaten today, have you?’

Korok hadn’t been able to get up in the morning to cook, so he had been lying in bed wondering what he would do for food for the rest of the day.

‘I knew it. Sorry I could not come earlier than now. So you must eat. And don’t worry about washing up. I will take them home,’ said Anchita.

Korok opened his mouth to protest, but she glared at him again, and he shrank a little more, and said, okay, he would eat.

‘And after you have lunch,’ Anchita said, bringing out another steel box, ‘there is this.’

Please, thought Korok, praying to all the gods he knew, and he knew a lot of them. Not kek. Anything but kek. Please.