Lady Flora checked the dial of the clock on the façade of St Thomas Cathedral’s steeple that was visible from afar, including from where they usually met at Horniman Circle Garden. Sir PM was late for their weekly gupshup and walk around the neighbourhood. Just as she was rehearsing her lines to read out the riot act to him, she could hear the heavy stomping of feet. It was her friend, Pheroze, and he was bound to have an apology, as always, she had guessed. “My Lady, sincere apologies for my unpardonable delay. You see, I was racing against time since I had to do the trek to Byculla and back. Traffic, plus these massive charges for parking the horse carriage…” Sir PM did his best to convince his friend of his genuine intent to make it back in time for their session. She seemed partly convinced but partly suspicious, too. “But why Byculla? Is there something I need to know? Are you and Eddie [short for King Edward VII aka Kala Ghoda] up to another of your harebrained plots…like the last one to do a road trip to Poona?” she sent out her usual interrogatory missive.

“Oh no, no, my Lady. Dear me, never more. This was far less adventurous. You see, last week while you were in absentia when your cousin was visiting, Eddie and I decided to walk around for a dekko since the Kala Ghoda Festival had returned in its physical avatar. Eddie was keen to see how the festival named after his erstwhile presence in the area was doing after it made a comeback. I had some time to spare in the week since the missus was in Dahanu. It made for an insightful walkabout; you would have found it engaging,” Sir PM added.