While Sanjay, his uncle and the others stood watching the pyre, one of the attendants, a diminutive, bow-legged man, scurried up the steps and urgently asked for something from Mr. Chattergee.

‘What is he wanting?’ asked Raul.

‘More ghee.’ They were running out of the clarified butter needed for the cremation.

‘Murghi? Murghi? What is he needing a bloody chicken for now?’ said Raul perplexed and emphasising bloody. Sanjay saw the other mourners giggling at the gaff. It was another humiliation. He stared down at his sandaled feet and crushed an ant busying by.