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I dreamed I was a pornstar. It wasn’t just the movie I dreamed of. It was the making of it, and it was startling in its vividness. It wasn’t the average garden-variety kind, and certainly not the dumpy, greasy, Indian kind, but one more accomplished, the kind you see in best hardcore movies on DVD.

Usually, I like things to be orderly. I’m not fanatical about neatness (though I am about cleanliness), but I want things to go in a proper sequence, everything in its time and place. I thought I should start at the beginning and follow a timeline, but Mehul assures me this isn’t necessary. In fact, he says, it might be more interesting to interweave past events and jump back and forth in time. I must admit, that’s a challenge.

I’ve been gone so long, everything seems strange and new. It’s been a long and very trying time. About eight weeks ago, my older cousin Ravi fell suddenly — and mysteriously — ill. Mala and I were distraught and dropped everything (and I mean everything) to be with him.

Mixo harasses me constantly. He demands that I start writing, expressing myself in print (or, in his words, ‘sexpressing myself’; he’s quite delightfully nutty).