I looked at the constable. "How much is the fine?" I asked, still in English.

I understood fragments. Father. Owner. Know. But the rest slipped through my fingers like water.

The driver’s hands began to shake. He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled receipts, a beedi, and a laminated card so faded it looked like a ghost. "Sahab, gareeb aadmi hoon…"