Sharada draws a sheet of paper out of her notebook and hands it over to Janaki. ‘Read it while I make tea.’ Janaki reads Indira Sant's ‘Alone’. The protagonist of the poem is a single woman. Her neighbours are consumed by curiosity because she lives alone. Where does she go when she goes out? Who are those visitors? What do they talk about? Why does she laugh so much? Their questions—full of unease, doubt, suspicion—pierce her closed door like arrows. What troubles the world is not whether she is rich or poor, but that she is single and lives alone. The world would love to see her dishonoured for daring to be what she is. Her success is reason to mourn.

Sharada comes back with the tea. ‘I’ve never had to live alone. You’ve almost always been alone. You think this poem is a poem about you?’

Janaki laughs. ‘I have so little to do with my neighbours here. Who has the time in Mumbai? But people watched me closely when I was in Kolhapur and even more closely back in my small home town. Every woman was watched. My aunt once fell off her bike and hit her head against a stone. Lots of blood all over. There was a Sikh shopkeeper in the town who knew our family very well. We called him Sikh as if that was his name. He was passing by on his motorbike. He saw my aunt and instantly put her on his bike and rushed her to the civil hospital which was miles away in the taluka town. By the time he came back to tell us of the accident, the village was abuzz with the story that Kunda Patil had eloped with Sikh. Even after Kunda Aunty came home with a huge bandage round her head, people continued to whisper about her. It made things very difficult when the family was trying to find her a match.’

Janaki laughs bitterly, her eyes clouding over. ‘Sometimes I do feel very alone here. But nothing compared to how lonely women like us get in our small towns and villages.’

‘Like us?’

‘Who want to make something of themselves. Live differently. Respect themselves, won’t take injustice lying down, even if it's your father who . . .’

Sharada looks at Janaki, startled.

‘I once planned to take my father to court.’ Janaki smiles awkwardly. ‘But my relatives stood by him and got rid of me instead.’

‘Take him to . . . ? Sorry, I don’t want to intrude.’