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By Root 813 0

rupees a square foot was the rate. It would be a new kind of construction, a small city, built on reclaimed land. I went to see the building and the area. I phoned my friend, and said: ‘No.’ Why? That building was coming up where there had been sea just five years ago—and I thought, the land is the land and the water is the water. One day the water will swallow this land back. A square foot in Maker Towers would be worth today, what, 2,000 or 3,000 times my initial investment. That land is now worth more than land in London, more than land in New York. One day, ten years later, I came by Maker Towers, and I saw that building, how solid it looked, how many people had bought flats in it, and I thought: ‘I was beaten. Someone was dreaming bigger than me.’ And there and then, I promised Lord SiddhiVinayak: ‘I am never going to underestimate this city again.’ Mumbai’s future is here in the east, Shanmugham. This is where the space is, and once the new roads and new metro lines come up, the east will grow. We’ll get 25,000, maybe 30,000 a square foot for the Shanghai. Even more for the next thing we build. Vishram is an old Society. But it is the most famous building in the area. We’ll take it and we’ll break it—and everyone will know. Vakola is ours.”

He smiled at his assistant. “For six years we’ve been together. You’re like a son to me, Shanmugham. A son. Will you do this new job for me?”

For six years, at the start of each new project, Shah had asked him the same question, and for six years Shanmugham had answered this question in the same way. He extended his arm, showing a locked fist to his boss, and then opened it.

“I’ve got this Society in my palm, sir. I know these people inside out.”

A homeless man, one of those sleeping under the concrete bridge that went over the highway, had been watching the two of them from beneath the protection of a blanket. Seeing the tall one in the white shirt walking towards him, he ducked under it.

Shanmugham signalled to a slow-moving autorickshaw.

A few seconds later, Kothari, the Secretary, came back with him to where the builder waited.

“Sorry. Couldn’t bring my scooter. Had to take an auto. And what traffic.”

Shah swept the apology away.

“If I were to leave every time a man got stuck in traffic, I would never meet anyone in this city. You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here?”

“I was told not to tell anyone.” The Secretary looked at Shanmugham. “Even my wife doesn’t know. Even I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Nothing secret going on. My son’s birthday is next week, but we’re having the celebration tonight. I just wanted you to join me for some food. Some drinks if you like.”

Kothari breathed out. “Of course. How nice of you. Will we be waiting for Mr. Ravi—the Secretary of Tower B?”

“No. He isn’t invited.”

The car doors slammed, and then they were on their way into the city. Kothari sat slumped, hands between his knees.

“Have you been to Malabar Hill before?” the builder asked.

“To the Hanging Gardens once or twice. No other reason.”

“I’ve lived in Malabar Hill twelve years. And I’ve never been to the Hanging Gardens.”

Both of them laughed. The Secretary straightened his back and breathed out.

The barbecued mutton melted under his tongue like hot chocolate.

The Secretary opened his eyes, dried them with an index finger, and looked for the chicken kebabs. On a silver tray, floating about the far side of Mr. Shah’s terrace. All the other guests were there: in suits, silk shirts, sleeveless saris and sherwanis, sitting at ebony tables lit by fat candles.

Kothari waved, so that the waiter would make an excursion to where he stood, alone, against the balcony. He felt the bald head beneath his comb-over becoming damp—spicy, that mutton. Rubbing his hands, he turned around to suck in cool air from the city: a panorama of glowing towers that stretched all the way to the distant dome of Haji Ali.

“Paneer, sir?”

A waiter brought a silver tray full of those paneer cubes that seemed to have little cucumber-bits inside. Clutching three cubes in his hand, Kothari said, “Son,