It happened by accident, the way the best things usually do.
Freddy was fifteen minutes late on a Wednesday — the auto he had taken from his own building had been stuck behind a cattle transport on the road, which was, he said, not something one could have predicted or planned for, which Vikram mentally categorised as an engineering problem (insufficient road capacity for mixed traffic) and then stopped himself from elaborating on because he was aware this was exactly the kind of thing Sunita had been talking about.
The group stood in the clubhouse waiting. Mrs. Apte played the previous session's music from her phone. Two of the younger women began dancing with the ease of people for whom music automatically becomes movement. The rest stood watching with varying degrees of willingness.
