Sir PM was looking sullen; Lady Flora could read his face from a mile as she made her way to their temporary adda —the Cooperage Bandstand grounds. “Why so glum? All okay on the health and home front?” she enquired. His eccentricities irritated her, but deep down the concern for her oldest friend in the city mattered above all else.

“We had to cancel our trip. The wife has been scarred and is scared.” By now, Lady Flora had gotten used to his habit of beating around the bush, and so she had to interrupt him, “Come to the point, Pheroze; what’s the reason for your displeasure?” Sir PM had another of his infamous facepalm moments, “My apologies. I am upset because our plan to meet my cousins who reside in Pune had to be cancelled. I was looking forward to it. It was going to be a reunion where relatives were coming down from far and wide; we were to visit the races; special festivities were planned on cousin Sohrab’s terrace gardens. But now I’ll have to hear of it later.”