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night birds. And on a moonlit night, if you lie in bed, here,’ he pats the head of the bed, ‘and look out of the window, you can see the moon and then if you sit up, you can see the river shimmering in its light. It’s very beautiful.’
    I feel the breath catch in my throat. Who would have thought the boorish Shyam capable of such sensitivity? I try to catch Radha’s eye, but she is looking elsewhere.
    Chris smiles and says, ‘But this is wonderful, Sham!’
    Shyam stares back at him unsmilingly. ‘S-h-y-a-m. It’s Shyam.’
    He appeals to Radha, ‘Isn’t there a name in English that is like Shyam?’
    Radha shrugs. Shyam deflects the slight with an animated wave of his arms. ‘So, do you think you will be happy here?’ he asks Chris.
    Chris shrugs. A long-drawn, yes shrug. His eyes are shining when he says, ‘Great! I love this place. Oh yes, I’ll settle for the mosquito net, and if it gets very hot, I’ll consider the air conditioning.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Mr Koman.’ He turns to me.
    ‘Call me Aashaan,’ I say. ‘Everyone here calls me Aashaan.’
    ‘Aashaan is teacher, master,’ Shyam explains. ‘In fact, once you learn to say Aashaan, you’ll be able to say Shyam properly.’ There is a teasing note in his voice.
    I smile. There is a side to Shyam, I am discovering, that both Radha and I choose not to see. Learning to like Shyam requires an
effort that neither she nor I seem to want to make. Perhaps it’s his own fault. He makes it so much easier for us to dislike him. Though, there are others who think differently. His employees love him and he is much admired in town, I hear. What do they see in him that we don’t?
    Shyam looks at his watch. ‘I have a meeting with the municipal chairman at a quarter to twelve. I should be leaving soon. I suggest you shower and rest. Uncle needs to rest, too. You can call for room service, or lunch at the restaurant. It’s up to you. And do feel free to call me any time.’
    Shyam draws out a card from his wallet. ‘This has my mobile number. By the way, would you like a mobile connection while you are here?’
    Chris stretches and yawns lazily. ‘No, I don’t think so. But thank you for asking.’
    Radha takes the card from Shyam and writes her mobile number on it. ‘And this is mine,’ she says. ‘Just in case you get lost or want any help or anything, you can reach me on this.’
    ‘I live in a tiny house nearby,’ I tell Chris. ‘It is alongside the resort. Come by later, in the afternoon.’
    ‘I’ll bring him over,’ Radha offers.
    Shyam frowns but doesn’t say anything.
    I stand up. Shyam rushes to my side. I take his arm.
    ‘I am tired,’ I tell him. ‘Could you ask the driver to drop me at my house?’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Shyam says. ‘You mustn’t exert yourself like you’ve done this morning.’
    ‘I know,’ I concede. ‘Sometimes I forget I am not young any more.’
    Again we walk the path. Shyam and Radha flank me on either side. I feel Chris’s eyes on us. Who is he looking at? Radha? Or me? Or the picture the three of us make?
     
    I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. My window overlooks a low wall beyond which are steps leading to the river. When the Nila is full, the water rises to the top step and licks at the low wall. But now it is almost dry and there is just a green pool that ribbons into a brown stream further down.

    There are a few water birds in the deep-green pool. Paddling, bathing, fishing …making do with what they have. I can hear the bird noises.
    The room is dark and spare. I like it this way. Too many things in a room make me feel as if I am in a crowded market. I raise my hand and feel the wooden bars of the window, worn with age. Like the wooden ceiling and the bed I lie on. And Malini, my parakeet. She is asleep with her head tucked under her wing. A feather flies. A pale-green feather. She is moulting with age, just as I am.
    I drift in and out of sleep. I am unable to still my mind.
    I