'It's my first time,' Eketi replied.

'I could see that. Don't worry. I have been doing this work for three years and still make mistakes. But look after yourself, otherwise your back will become hunched forever like mine. And don't inhale the dust. It will clog the pores of your body. Sometimes it comes out even in my shit. Look what this work has done to my hands and feet.' Suraj held out both his palms. They were calloused and as rough as coconuts. There were blisters on his feet and the soles had ruptured into rivulets of dried blood.

'Then why do you do this work?' Eketi asked.

'I have five mouths to feed. I need money.'

'And how much money do they pay here?'

'Just enough to get by.'

The siren sounded again and the labourers reluctantly stood up. All through the afternoon they worked, hauling bricks, loading mud, breaking stones, mixing cement, digging and filling, building the hotel with their bare hands.

When the foreman finally declared the end of the day's work at six in the evening, the defeated men hoisted their pickaxes and shovels to their shoulders, the drooping women picked up their baskets and babies, and lined up before the contractor.

Eketi too collected his wage, consisting of five crisp ten-rupee notes, and began the walk back to Dolly's house.

As he was passing in front of an upmarket shopping centre, his eyes were drawn to a poster adorning the display window of a shop. It showed a magnificent island, piled high with dense green trees and ringed by a turquoise ocean. He stood there for several minutes, and then boldly entered the shop. A young woman was sitting behind a counter doing her nails. A big map of the world was displayed on the wall behind her and a pile of brochures lay at her side. She looked at his dusty clothes and grimy face with frank distaste.

'Yes, what do you want?' she demanded.

'I want to go to the island whose picture is in the window.'

'That is the Andamans,' she sneered.

'Yes, I know. How much does it cost to go there by ship?'

She blew her nails and picked up a brochure with the same photo of the island on the cover. 'We have an organized tour for five days. The total cost for the cheapest package will be nine thousand rupees from Kolkata. Now go, don't waste my time.'

'Can I take one of these?' He indicated the brochure. The girl quickly gave him one, and shooed him out.

'So how did you like the work?' Dolly asked him as soon as he returned.

'I didn't come from my village for this,' Eketi replied, massaging his back. He took out the fifty rupees from his pocket and gave them to Dolly. 'Will you keep this money safely for me?'

'No problem,' said Dolly.

'And can you tell me how many days I will have to work to earn nine thousand?'

Dolly frowned and did a quick calculation. 'One hundred and eighty days. Say six months. Why?'

'I want to visit this island,' he said, holding aloft the tourist brochure like a hunting trophy.

It was the tantalizing promise contained in that glossy sheet of paper which made Eketi forget the ache in his back and the cramp in his legs. After dinner he lay down on the floor, gazing at the picture of the island, feeling the wind rustling through the tall palm trees, hearing the cicadas singing in the dense green jungle, savouring the taste of turtle meat on his tongue.

The next day he was back at the construction site, doing the same work. Soon his hands fell into a rhythm, so that by the end of the week he didn't need to look down at what he was digging. Even though the work became easier, Eketi still hated it and he hated himself for doing it.

His world now revolved between the eunuch's house and the construction site. He had neither the time to explore the rest of the city nor the inclination to get acquainted with the other residents of Dolly's colony. He even put the project of finding a wife on hold. Sunday and Monday, Diwali and New Year meant the same to him – five ten-rupee notes, which he diligently gave Dolly for safekeeping.

Two and a half months passed. As the hotel began rising from the ground, Eketi's hopes also started rising. 'How much money has accumulated by now, do you think, Dolly?' he asked the eunuch one evening.

'A full three thousand,' she replied.

'That means I need just six thousand more for my trip,' he said, surprising her both with the longing in his voice and his newly acquired knowledge of maths.

Dolly gave him a strange look, but didn't say anything. That night, however, she quietly added a thousand rupees from her own purse to the kitty she was keeping on his behalf.

Two days later, Eketi was feeding stones into a crusher when all of a sudden there was a loud explosion and a huge cloud of dust rose from a corner of the pit. He rushed towards the scene of the mishap and saw that some bamboo scaffolding had crashed from a considerable height. A worker lay face-down on the ground, covered with dust, his limbs contorted into awkward shapes. Another worker turned him over, and Eketi cried out in anguish. It was Suraj.

Suraj's death led to stoppage of work for two days. So Dolly asked Eketi to accompany her on a mission on behalf of the 'bank people'. Together with four other eunuchs, they proceeded to a crowded market in Bhelupura. Dolly pointed out a shop on the ground floor selling electrical equipment. 'Our target is the owner of this store, Rajneesh Gupta,' she told Eketi. 'I need you to draw him out of the shop, then we will do the rest.'

So Eketi went in and told the mousy-looking owner that there was someone outside waiting to meet him. As soon as a slightly mystified Rajneesh Gupta stepped out of his shop, the hinjras pounced on him. Dolly's associates surrounded him and began taunting him, singing and dancing while clapping their hands in unison. Inside that human circle, Dolly stroked Gupta's cheek, tickled him under the armpits, and rained curses on him: 'May your children fail, may your business fail, may your body be infested with insects, may you die a dog's death.' All the other shopkeepers came out to enjoy the fun. They laughed and jeered, and Eketi was surprised to see that it was not the eunuchs they were deriding, but the hapless Gupta.

'Now repay the loan within ten days or we will make another visit.' Dolly jabbed a finger at the owner, before imperiously flicking her plait and calling off her troops.

Eketi couldn't help feel a tinge of pity for Mr Gupta, who remained standing in the middle of the market, red-faced and alone, trying to stifle his sobs.

The next day work resumed inside the pit, but it was no longer the same. The ghost of Suraj haunted the construction site, making the day seem longer, the food blander, the shovel heavier to Eketi. His heart had never been in this work; now even his hands were beginning to revolt.

When he returned home that evening he found the house in complete disarray. The cupboard had been ransacked, there was blood on the floor, and there was no sign of Dolly. It was a tearful Rekha who filled him in. Apparently Rajneesh Gupta had come to the colony that afternoon with three hired goons armed with hockey sticks. They had barged into Dolly's house and beaten her senseless. The eunuch had bled profusely and had required thirty stitches. 'She is now in the district hospital in Kabir Chaura, hanging on to life by a thread.'

'No! No!' the Onge cried and ran out blindly. He had just reached the gates of the hospital when a group of eunuchs trooped out. Four of them held aloft a bamboo stretcher on which lay a body wrapped in a white shroud. They were followed by three other eunuchs, chanting 'Ram Nam Satya Hai. He didn't need to look at the dead body to know it was Dolly, being taken on her final journey. The death chant rang in his ears with the pealing clarity of hammer hitting metal. The breath went out of his lungs as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He slumped down on the ground like a broken puppet.