THE DAYS ROLLED by, one after another. Autumn passed, and now even winter was nearing its end.

Since Durga’s death, Shorbojoya had been prodding her husband to leave this village for good. In fairness to her husband, Horihor had made several attempts to find a new place to settle in. But arranging a permanent livelihood was difficult business, and none of his efforts had borne fruit. Finally, after an autumn and winter of hoping and waiting, Shorbojoya had all but given up.

In the meantime, life in the village continued. The widowed wife of Neelmoni Roy—Horihor’s former neighbour and late cousin—had arrived in Contentment at the beginning of winter. She had been staying at Bhubon Mukhujje’s home, since her husband’s family home had become derelict and overgrown in his years of absence. Horihor, of course, had offered his cousin’s wife his own spare rooms, but she had declined.

Two of Neelmoni Roy’s three children had accompanied their mother: Awtoshi, a girl of about fourteen, and Shuneel, a boy of eight. Her eldest, Shuresh, was enrolled in an English-medium school in Calcutta, and wouldn’t be able to join the family till the beginning of his summer holidays. The general consensus about the two children was that neither was particularly attractive. Awtoshi was more pleasing to the eye than her brother, but even she wasn’t exactly beautiful. However, they both had robust physiques. People attributed it to their childhood in Lahore, where—thanks to their father’s job at the commissariat—they had lived till recently.

When the family first arrived at the village, Shorbojoya had attempted to establish a relationship with her rich sister-in-law. The information that Shuneel’s mother was the outright owner of ten thousand rupees in cash and shares had commanded her immediate awe, and she made several determined attempts through the winter to get closer to the woman. Neelmoni Roy’s widow, however, had absolutely no interest in her husband’s poorer relations. She had made it clear, right from the beginning, that she considered herself and her children far above the rural branch of the family, and indeed above much of Contentment. Unlike these men who lived off inherited land, her husband had always held positions of influence within the government. The life of urban affluence she and her children were used to simply didn’t compare with this dull village life. Even amongst the well-off families of the village, her children were set apart by their clothes, speech and manners. Neither of them left home at dawn for games or errands. They waited sedately till breakfast hour and their first cup of tea. Despite her youth, Awtoshi was never seen without a gold necklace, gold earrings and gold bangles. No matter what the hour, there was never a spot, stain or blemish on their faces or clothes, and their hair was always perfectly combed. Neelmoni Roy’s widow had even brought along a servant from the west to do all her housework for her—such was the extent of their prosperity.

In short, the difference between the two branches of the Roy family was glaring. So when Shorbojoya began her overtures, her sister-in-law had no trouble implying, through both words and demeanour, that she didn’t consider Shorbojoya in any way equal to her circle of acquaintances, even in this village. Shorbojoya was rather naive in these matters, so the first few rebuffs missed their mark, but eventually even she had to concede that she would never be considered fit company for her rich sister-in-law, familial ties or not.

In addition to curating her own social circle, Shuneel’s mother had also explicitly forbidden her son from spending much time with the village boys, including Opu, for she feared their rural uncouthness rubbing off on him. If this made her unpopular in the village, she didn’t particularly care. Contentment would never be her home, or even a place she planned to visit often. The only reason she had come this winter was to ensure that her property was protected during the survey. She was well aware that Bhubon Mukhujje hadn’t offered her and her children a place in his house out of the goodness of his heart; he had plans to benefit from their local property. She had accepted his offer because it was convenient. Even then, to limit her degree of being beholden, she had ensured that her kitchen was separate from the family’s. So though within the Mukhujje house, her two rooms, with her children and personal help, effectively functioned as a separate household.

Overall, though, she was prepared to treat Bhubon Mukhujje’s family as her equals, for they, too, had money. Shorbojoya, on the other hand . . . well, she barely considered her a fellow human being.

Shuresh came to the village for ten days during his school break for Dol, the spring festival of colours. He was about Opu’s age, and currently enrolled in the fifth class at an English-medium school. Like his siblings (and unlike Opu), his skin was only medium-brown, but regular exercise had given him a strong, healthy physique. Although only a year older than Opu, his well-built frame made him look like a boy of fifteen or sixteen. One of the richer village boys—Ramnath Ganguly’s son from the Ganguly household one neighbourhood over—was his classmate in Calcutta. The Ganguly household was famous for their elaborate celebration of Ramnobomi Dol, so Shuresh spent most of his time in that house. Like his mother, he made it clear that he didn’t consider the other boys of the village to be fit company for himself.

Opu, on the other hand, felt an almost magnetic pull towards his new cousins. These were the people of that dilapidated old house and overgrown orchards—the places where he and his sister had had so many of their secret adventures! He felt an instant connection to all of them, but especially to Shuresh, for they were the same age. Ever since he’d come to know of Shuresh’s existence, he had waited impatiently for summer so