They build to “Kaliyon Ka Chaman” – but flipped: RS on the original tabla groove, S on a Jersey club kick. The floor is a sweaty, joyful mess of saris and sneakers, 40-year-olds and 20-year-olds dancing the same step.

RS’s jaw tightens. “You’re ruining the groove.”

For the last chorus, RS reaches over and boosts S’s volume. She returns the favor by adding a reverb tail that makes the room gasp.

She nods. He almost smiles.

Something clicks.

Then, together, almost accidentally: “Same time tomorrow?”