The heat had gone out of the evening.
Over the Shamshabad estate the sky had turned indigo, with the last of the sun still in it. The shadows of the banyan and neem trees stretched across the lawns. The edge of the farmhouse sat in the dusk.
The air was still. Night jasmine, and grass that had just been watered. The grounds, the noise of the stadiums, the cameras, and the work of the captaincy stayed outside the iron gates.
On the path, it was quiet.
Siddanth Deva walked the gravel that went around the house. Grey sweatpants. A dark t-shirt.
He was not walking alone.
Ronny set the pace.
The Golden Retriever was not the pup that had chewed through Deva's batting gloves. He was eleven, close to twelve. For a big dog, that was late.
The gold in his coat had faded to a pale cream. His muzzle was white, which made his eyes look larger. His hips, which used to send him up after a tennis ball, were stiff. He walked with a slow roll from side to side.
Deva shortened his stride to the dog's. Hands in his pockets. The breeze moved his hair.
"Take your time, buddy," Deva said.
Ronny stopped by a hibiscus bush. He smelled the leaves, then looked up. A huff through his nose. His tail hit his leg twice.
Deva crouched on the gravel. He did not mind the dust on the sweatpants.
He took Ronny's head in his hands, the same hands that had held a bat at the crease, and rubbed behind the ears, the place Ronny had always wanted.
Ronny leaned into it and shut his eyes. A low sound in his throat.
"You're getting old on me, old man," Deva said.
Ronny opened one eye and whined, a small question.
"I know," Deva said. He sat on the grass at the edge of the path and let the heavy head rest on his knee. "It goes by too fast. It feels like yesterday wheni gifted you to Krithi. Just me, you, and Krithi. Do you remember?"
Ronny's tail thumped once on the gravel. Yes.
"You were there before Rishi and Aadhya."
His thumb moved over the pale fur on the dog's forehead.
"You watched Krithi when I was away on tour," Deva said. "You sat by the door and waited. And when the kids came, you let them pull your ears and climb on your back, and you never growled. Not once. You just watched them."
Ronny looked up. He lifted his head and licked the back of Deva's hand, slow and rough.
"You're a good boy, Ronny," Deva said. His throat was tight. "The best boy. You don't have to walk the grounds anymore. You can rest. I've got the watch now."
Ronny huffed, as if the watch had been handed over. He got up, stiff, joints answering in the cool air.
Deva stood with him and dusted his knees.
"Come on," Deva said, nodding toward the lit windows. "Let's go in. The kids are probably running Amma ragged. It is board game night."
Ronny's tail moved, slow, and he started back. Deva stayed beside him, step for step.
---
The lawn had been quiet. The bedroom was not.
High ceilings, heavy curtains, a low light. Tonight the big bed was not for sleep. The Monopoly board was going on it.
Krithika sat against the headboard in loose pink silk pajamas, hair in a bun. A pillow was on her lap, under the small round of the early pregnancy. She was watching the foot of the bed and trying not to laugh already.
Deva came in. Ronny was asleep on his bed in the hall.
He got onto the mattress with the box.
"Alright," he said, and tipped the set onto the white duvet. "The bank is open. Who is playing?"
"I AM PLAYING!" Aadhya yelled, and launched off the armchair onto the bed. Yellow pajamas, dinosaurs on them. She planted herself on the left of the board.
Rishi came in slower. Dark blue flannel, neat. He climbed up, smoothed the pajama, and sat cross-legged on the right, opposite his sister.
"Me too, Nana," he said.
"Good," Deva said, and pulled the tray of money toward himself. He sorted the notes. Orange five hundreds, beige hundreds, blue fifties, green twenties, yellow tens, pink fives, white ones. Neat stacks.
"Choose your tokens," Krithika said, leaning in to see the small silver pieces.
Aadhya's hand went out and took the dog. She held it to her chest.
"I am the dog!" she said, and looked around in case anyone argued. "Because of Ronny! I am Ronny, and I am going to bite everyone who steps on my house!"
"A bit aggressive, yet emotionally consistent choice," Rishi said. He looked at the rest. Not the car. Not the thimble. Not the wheelbarrow. He took the Top Hat.
"I will select the Top Hat," he said, and set it on GO.
Deva gave Krithika the shoe. She took it. He put the car on GO for himself.
"Fifteen hundred to start," he said, and dealt the notes out in the right amounts.
Aadhya crushed hers into a ball and shoved it under her knee.
Rishi laid his flat, largest to smallest, edges lined up.
"Standard rules," Deva said. "You roll, you move, you buy, you build. Last one with money wins. No stealing from the bank, Aadhya."
"I don't steal! I just borrow without asking!"
"That is exactly what stealing is," Rishi said.
"Shut up, Top Hat!"
"Peace in the boardroom," Krithika said, and clapped once. "Aadhya, you roll first."
The first laps were quiet enough.
Deva landed on the Reading Railroad and bought it. Krithika picked up a few squares on the first side.
Then the two of them started playing like themselves.
Aadhya played by what she felt.
She landed on Boardwalk, the dark blue one, the dearest on the board.
"Do you want it, Aadhya?" Deva said, holding up the card. "Four hundred dollars."
She looked at the dark blue strip. Her nose wrinkled.
"No," she said, arms crossed. "Dark blue is a boring colour. It looks like the sky when it rains. I don't want it."
Deva blinked. "It's the one that pays the most. A hotel on it is two thousand."
"I don't care," she said. "I only want the pink ones and the light blue ones. Because they are pretty. I am going to build a pink kingdom, and you are not allowed in it."
"A highly irrational investment strategy," Rishi said. "Purchasing assets based on aesthetic appeal rather than projected revenue is a guaranteed path to insolvency."
"I will squash your top hat!" Aadhya yelled, and threw a crumpled one-dollar note at his head.
He moved. It missed. On his turn he showed them what he actually was.
He did not care about the colours. He cared about the numbers.
"I will purchase St. James Place," he said, and gave Deva the exact notes. He looked at his parents. "Statistically, the orange properties have the highest probability of being landed on, due to their proximity to the Jail square. When a player exits Jail, the most common dice rolls of six, seven, or eight will place them directly onto my assets. The Return on Investment (ROI) is mathematically optimal."
Krithika stared at him, mouth a little open. She looked at Deva. "Did you teach him that?"
"I did not," Deva said. He was laughing, and a bit uneasy. "That is all him."
Another hour. The board was split. The cash moved.
Then the pink kingdom hit a wall.
Aadhya rolled. She hopped the silver dog and counted out loud.
"One... two... three... four... five... six... seven!"
She landed on Go to Jail.
The colour left her face. A cartoon policeman with a whistle. She looked at her father. Her lip started to go.
"I am in jail?" she said.
"I'm afraid so, monster," Deva said, and tapped the board. "Dog goes to Jail. Three turns, or doubles."
"NO!"
She went backward onto the duvet and kicked.
"I didn't do anything wrong! My dog is a good dog! He didn't bite anyone!" She pointed at the token behind the bars. "The policeman is lying! Let me out!"
"It's a game, sweetie," Krithika said, holding the laugh in. "You'll come out."
"NANA! BAIL ME OUT!" Aadhya sat up and pointed at him. "You have all the money in the bank! Pay the policeman!"
"I can't use the bank's money," Deva said. He was working not to laugh. "That's taking from the till. You pay the fifty from your own."
"I am saving it for the pink houses!" she said, arms tight. "I will just stay in jail. I will live there."
"That is a good choice," Rishi said, not bothered by the volume. "Remaining in jail during the late stages of the game minimizes the risk of landing on heavily developed properties, thereby preserving capital."
Aadhya looked at him as if she could set the Top Hat on fire. She still would not pay. She sat out her turns with a scowl big enough for the room.
While she sulked in jail, Rishi did the thing that made both parents go quiet.
He had all three orange squares. St. James Place, Tennessee Avenue, New York Avenue. He also had the light blue set.
He did not rush the hotels.
"I would like to purchase twelve houses from the bank, please," he said, and passed his father a neat stack of notes.
Deva counted, lifted an eyebrow, and gave him twelve small green houses.
Rishi put four houses on each of the orange squares and each of the light blue ones. He did not trade them up to the red hotels. He had the money to.
"Rishi, why not the hotels?" Krithika said. "The rent is higher."
"Because, Amma," Rishi said. "According to the official rules of the game, there is a finite supply of exactly thirty-two green houses in the bank. By purchasing and holding onto twenty-four of them, and refusing to upgrade to hotels, I am deliberately creating an artificial housing shortage."
Deva stopped counting.
"You are creating a housing shortage," he said.
"Yes, Nana," Rishi said, and squared his remaining notes. "Since you and Amma cannot purchase houses directly from the bank because the supply is exhausted, you cannot develop your own properties to increase their rental value. I have effectively paralyzed your economic growth while maintaining high revenue streams on my own assets."
Nobody spoke for a few seconds.
Krithika looked at Deva. Deva looked at her.
"Our son is a monster," Krithika said.
"He is a literal hedge fund manager," Deva said, looking at the board. "He just cornered the real estate market."
Aadhya, still in jail, leaned over. "I don't care about your houses, Top Hat. They are green and green is ugly."
The board had turned. With the houses stuck in Rishi's squares, Krithika and Deva could not build. Every lap they paid him.
"Sid," Krithika said, hand over her mouth so he could not read it. "We have to stop him. He is taking my cash. I have two hundred left."
"I know," Deva said. "If I land on the orange again I will have to mortgage the railroads."
"We must embargo him," Krithika said. "Do not trade with him. If he asks for Marvin Gardens to complete his yellow monopoly, refuse."
"Agreed." Deva looked across the bed at his son.
Twenty minutes later it broke.
Aadhya had paid the fine and come out. She had a small kingdom, pink and light blue, a few houses, because she liked the colours.
She shook the dice in both hands and threw them.
A six and a four. Ten.
She moved the dog ten squares. Past Free Parking, past the reds, and down on New York Avenue.
Orange. Rishi's. Four green houses on it.
Rishi looked at the board, then at the card, then at his sister.
"You have landed on my property," he said, the way a man asks for the rent and already knows the answer. "New York Avenue with four houses is eight hundred dollars."
Aadhya's eyes went wide. She pulled the crumpled notes out from under her knee and tried to flatten them. Twenties, tens, a lot of ones.
"I don't have eight hundred," she said.
"Then you are bankrupt," Rishi said. "You give me the cash and the properties, and you are out."
"NO!"
The no turned into a grab. She did not offer a trade.
She got both hands on the board and tried to flip it.
"Hey! Hey!" Deva's hands came down on the edges before the houses left the bed.
"IT IS NOT FAIR!" she yelled, pushing against his grip, tears up. "HE HAS ALL THE UGLY GREEN HOUSES! I HATE THIS GAME! I AM TAKING MY MONEY FROM THE BANK!"
She let go and went for the tray, stuffing five-hundred notes at her pajama pocket.
"Hold on, monster!" Deva said. He caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, arms in, a hold rather than a fight. He was laughing. His shoulders shook.
Krithika was against the headboard, a hand on her stomach, crying with it.
"Let me go! I need the orange money to pay the Top Hat!" Aadhya said, twisting.
"Order in the boardroom!" Deva said, once he had the breath, and wiped his eye. "The bank is stepping in."
He took two orange five-hundreds from the tray.
"The National Bank of Deva is declaring a corporate bailout," Deva said. He put the thousand dollars on her crumpled pile. "Your debt is forgiven, Aadhya. The bank is subsidizing your pink kingdom."
She stopped. She looked at the new notes. The tears were still there, and then they weren't the point. "Really?"
"Really," he said, and kissed the top of her head.
"Excuse me, Nana," Rishi said, and leaned in, offended. "That is a direct violation of the free market principles governing this simulation. You cannot arbitrarily inject capital to save a failing enterprise."
"The bank is too big to fail, Rishi," Deva said.
"This is not a free market anymore, Nana," Rishi said, and pushed his glasses up. "By forgiving her debt and providing unearned capital, you are implementing socialist policies. Socialism ruins the structural integrity of a capitalist board game!"
Krithika gave up. She put her face in a pillow. The sound that came out was her son objecting to socialism in Monopoly.
"The ruling stands, Mr. CEO," Deva said. "The pink kingdom gets another turn."
It did not need one.
The almost-flipped board and the bailout had used Aadhya up. She leaned back on his chest and yawned so wide her jaw clicked. She rubbed her eyes. The fight was gone.
"I am tired, Nana," she said. Her eyes were closing.
Rishi, having taken the board, seemed content as well. A small yawn.
"I believe it is time to sleep, Amma," he said.
"I think you are right," Krithika said.
Deva shifted and lifted Aadhya. She did not fight it. Krithika helped Rishi off the mattress.
Deva carried her down the hall and put her under the covers. He kissed her forehead.
"Goodnight, monster."
"Goodnight, Nana," she said into the pillow, already half gone. "My pink houses are the best."
"They are the best," he said, and shut the door.
Rishi's room was as tidy as he had left it. Krithika was already tucking the duvet in.
"Goodnight, my little CEO," she said, and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Amma. Goodnight, Nana," he said, eyes shut. "I still believe the bailout was economically unsound."
Deva patted his head. "We will debate macroeconomic theory tomorrow, buddy. Sleep well."
They walked back to their room and left the doors a little open.
The bed was a wreck. Notes across the white duvet. The board crooked. Green houses and red hotels in a pile by the pillows. The silver dog and the top hat sat next to each other in the middle.
Deva did not start clearing it.
He sat on the side of the bed. Krithika came up behind him and put her arms over his shoulders, her chin on his head, her hands over his heart.
They looked at the mess.
Outside, the crickets. The house was quiet again.
"He really is going to take the lot off us one day, isn't he?" Deva said, looking at the green houses Rishi had refused to turn into hotels.
"He will," Krithika said, her breath warm on his neck. "He will own this estate by the time he is twelve, and Aadhya will paint it pink."
Deva smiled. He put his hands over hers and held them to his chest. He shut his eyes and leaned back into her. The stadiums, the captaincy, and the trophies were a long way from a duvet covered in fake notes, a dog token, and a top hat.