Ashesh stands sipping his tea and, with it, the silence, before the hammer-men arrive. He runs his forefinger around the rim of the ceramic mug, taking pleasure in its roundness. He touches the drip of tea running down the side to feel its wetness. The half-moon in the sky is pale but still alive. Its pallor could be taken as a sign of defeat against the advancing sun, or survival in its face.

Ashesh breathes in the warm aroma of the tea. Women's precise fingers have plucked the leaves, infusing his cup of Darjeeling with the delicacy of their touch. He brings a similar delicate precision to the way he brews it. Making the first cup of tea is a cherished ritual in Ashesh's morning routine. He uses Anna's tea pan. Puts it to boil on the same right-hand burner that Anna preferred. When the water begins to boil, he puts in exactly three-quarters of a teaspoon of tea leaves, followed by two quick, simultaneous actions. He turns off the gas with his right hand and puts a lid on the tea pan with his left. The water must not be allowed to simmer even for a moment after it reaches boiling point, nor must the aroma be allowed to escape after the tea leaves go in. Wait for exactly five minutes, lift the tea-pan lid, strain the amber-gold liquid into the ceramic mug and, unadulterated by milk or sugar, carry the tea out to the veranda. It's time then to simply be. Ashesh, tea, silence.

The last drop of the tea has been sipped. Ashesh walks into his bedroom to tidy up his bed. One look at his sheet takes away all the energy his tea has given him. He looks at it as though it could be hiding a snake. Is it moving? Was that a dream? No. He saw it with wide-open eyes. Kicked off the sheet. Saw the hand—his hand—jump. He turns away from the bed and hurries into the living room. He draws a book down from the topmost shelf of the book rack near the door. Your Health: Symptoms and Treatment. He turns the leaves swiftly, looking for ‘t-r-e-m-o-r-s’. ‘Tremors’ isn’t listed. How's that? Don’t people have tremors? How can this book have nothing to say about what his hand was doing last night?