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Samar Varma approved what Kavya Nair’s file told him to approve. Three days later he stands in her courtyard in clothes that do not fit, beside a machine that changes colour and will not say why.

Gopal Mehra has inspected 140 carts in Sector 12-East for nine years. A new sub-clause wants each one fifteen centimetres from the wall behind it. In this lane, not one of them can be.

Every morning Fatima pours a second glass of tea, lets it sit for one full boil, and tips it out. She has done it for six years. In eleven years she has never written down what anyone owes her.

Eleven years of level paving taught Samar Varma’s legs one gait. Three steps past the checkpoint the ground stops being level, and a woman selling guavas tells him to leave his face somewhere else.