“They ate on the verandah. The Shrewsbury biscuits came out with the chai afterward, dipped and softened and consumed with the reverence reserved for food that carries memory. The forest hummed. The stars multiplied. The banyan's canopy was a dark shape against the Milky Way, and Nikhil thought — not for the first time, not for the last — that his grandfather had been the smartest man he'd ever known, and that it had taken the rest of the world thirty years to start catching up.”