En route to India in 1933, Digby is felled by food poisoning but recovers with broth and paregoric brought by fellow passenger Banerjee, a young barrister trained in London. Aboard ship he notes rigid class divisions, a maharajah occupying First Class, and Mrs. Ann Simmonds’s condescension at dinner as she asserts British authority over India.

Walking the deck, Digby admits his ignorance of politics and explains his move: despite excelling and loving surgery, sectarian barriers in Glasgow shut him out of a surgical post. Banerjee links Digby’s exclusion to India’s caste logic, noting Britain only pushed Indians further down the ladder. That night, phosphorescent seas mirror Digby’s sense of shedding his past.

Digby recalls Glasgow’s violence and his own facial scar, realizing he could forgive injuries but not the closed door to surgery. Recalling Professor Alan Elder’s advice, he embraces the Indian Medical Service as a path to experience and mentors.

Landing in Madras, Digby is struck by the city’s riot of color and life. In customs, a red-faced English officer abuses Banerjee for seeking shore leave. As Digby prepares to intervene, a senior official overrules the junior and stamps the papers. Banerjee’s hardened gaze and stoic smile, followed by his exit through the non-white gate without a farewell, lay bare the colonial caste that now implicates Digby.