“Madam,” said the men from behind the door, “your taxi is here.”

They went outside in single file. The baby began to cry, because the winter heat and the dust made his eyes water and sting. She held him to her more closely. Children ran towards them, carrying magazines tied with string; but the men brushed them aside. When they reached the taxi, the driver helped them to push the cases into the trunk. The job was done within the minute; but mother and child still stood motionless, oblivious to their hints. They hesitated and exchanged a quick glance. But perhaps they knew about her, for they let it pass. Then the taller of the men opened the door of the car and gave the driver the name of the hotel.

‘Good luck, madam,’ he said.

A little piece of chivalry, even here; but he was already invisible. They drove on, the streets half-deserted and edged by fog. The driver made no conversation. The baby’s cries became a whimper, then stopped altogether as he succumbed to the growl of the engine. She wished that she could do the same. But for her there was only the looking and the thinking, as much as she would allow herself to think at this time. Through a grimy window she saw the outline of a buffalo by the roadside. It chewed slowly and watched her pass. One day, she thought to herself, all of this will be gone and forgotten - the buffalo and her, the driver and his dirty car and the even dirtier streets. Everything except for Noah, and his memory of what had happened. Or what he had been told about what had happened. Years from now he would lie beside someone and talk and laugh as if nothing at all had taken place. If there was anything from which she could take comfort, it might be that.

The hotel was old and in the lobby there was a group of boys who sat and played cards under a solitary light. They had towels wrapped around their waists, and they seemed ashamed to see her. But she didn’t care. She hadn’t told the consulate about her decision, and she imagined that they were probably waiting for her at their own hotel, suits and cameras lined up in sympathy. But this was a much better idea. To be out of the public eye, that is what she wanted more than anything else. The first glimpse of the room was almost a relief; the stains that disfigured the walls above the bed were actually welcome. It made it less likely that she would be disturbed. 

But she was wrong. The sound of the phone, when it came, was a clap of thunder in the hot room.

‘Neha?’

The baby jerked awake. 

‘I am here.’

‘Try to sleep. Tomorrow we will meet in the morning and decide what to do.’

‘I have already decided. I am meeting the Commissioner at ten.’

The line clicked and whirred.

‘The Commissioner is a political appointment and famously incompetent. You must be tired. Sleep now and we will discuss in the morning.’

‘I have made the arrangements myself; unofficially.’

‘Okay, okay.’

‘Don’t call them, Ranjan. I don’t want them to know.’

‘They’ll know anyway.’

They both paused.

‘Ranjan?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have any hope, at all?’

He didn’t answer. Even over the crackle of the line, she could hear the silence harden and grow sad. Ranjan had loved him at least as much as her. She knew instinctively that their rights over this new kingdom were to be shared, not fought over. Were the lines on that map already being drawn? 

Her son began to cry.  

‘Look after him and try to sleep. Whatever can be done will be done.’

She let him finish in his own time. After a few minutes, he stopped his squirming and stared at her with a stillness that made her uncomfortable. He looked more like his father than before. She leaned back against the pillow. The flourescent lights hummed like angels; the pain flowed deep and strong in her breast. She tried to avoid his gaze. Whatever it was that he demanded, he would have it sooner or later; but not now, not yet. Short, shallow breaths escaped from her lips. She felt him slip his head into the palm of her hand, and she could feel the blood pumping through the gaps in his skull. They were so tired, the both of them. Her breathing became more regular. Little but little, her eyelids began to droop and relax.

Outside, things went on as they always had; tyres screeched and street curs howled with glee and mounted one another. She stripped her shirt and lay down with the baby and placed her breast into his mouth. He drank, without thinking, and made a face in the dark. The milk was warm; but it was also as bitter as soil.