The air in the university’s main auditorium was thick with the scent of lilies and floor wax. Workers in white overalls were draped over scaffolding, hanging massive silk banners with the Malhotra crest. It was a week before the Gala, and the campus had already been transformed into a kingdom waiting for its king.

I stood at the edge of the stage, my worn sneakers feeling like an insult to the polished teak wood beneath them. Kabir stood next to me, staring at the empty rows of seats where the elite of the country would soon sit.