‘Of course I left.’‘Ten thousand appointments are missed in this city because of too much traffic, and you missed Mr Shah because of too little traffic. Fate, Masterji,’ Mr Pinto said, as the maid tipped three idlis on to his plate. ‘The very definition.’‘You sound bitter, Mr Pinto.’ Masterji leaned back and waited for his idlis. Three for him too.‘And what do we do now?’ Shelley asked. As usual, she received only two idlis.‘We will wait till October 3. The deadline will expire and that Shah fellow will go away. He said so, don’t you remember?’‘And until then the boycott will get worse.’‘There’s something bigger than us involved here, Mr Pinto. Yesterday, when I was at the builder’s terrace I saw something in the ocean. Things are changing too fast in this city. Everyone knows this, but no one wants to take responsibility. To say: “Slow down. Stop. Let’s think about what’s happening.” Do you understand me?’But that was not it, either. There was something more in the foaming white waters: a sense of power.
