Yogesh’s fine features had lit up like a child’s. His large, black eyes gleamed with gratitude. ‘At your place, sir?’

‘Why not,’ Ashesh had said without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Call first.’

The young woman next to him had said, ‘I’m Shilpa. I’d love you to see my show too. It’s video installations. I’m showing at the Max Mueller. May I send you an invite? I have your address. I made Yogesh’s list and sent out the invites.’

Shilpa’s rapid-fire chatter had made Ashesh nervous. Although he had nodded vigorously in agreement to everything she said, he was looking at the door for escape. Descending the wide, curved steps of the Jehangir, Ashesh had realized this was the Shilpa who was supposed to be Yogesh’s girlfriend from college days. He wondered how they could possibly be a couple, being so unlike each other.

Ashesh had suddenly felt old, far away from this generation of artists with their new media and new techniques. His world was still flesh and blood. Theirs seemed to be air waves and signals. They lived with such supreme confidence in the virtual world where he could never be the host, nor perhaps even a guest. Yogesh did not show the same hard, crackling confidence as Shilpa. He was tall, very good-looking, but Ashesh had seen a shadow of vulnerability in his eyes. Yogesh and he had met a few times after that—at Ashesh’s place, at a cafe, in galleries. Ashesh had found a young friend in Yogesh. He read poetry, saw films, listened to music. You could exchange ideas with him but also dive into yourself and keep your silence. Yogesh had never brought Shilpa to any of their meetings. Ashesh thought this showed sensitivity.

Soon after, both Yogesh and Shilpa had won fellowships to go abroad. Yogesh had gone to London for a year and Shilpa for six months to Amsterdam. Yogesh had returned after that stint, but very quietly. Nobody realized he was back. Nobody had heard from him or seen him until out of the blue one day Ashesh had got a call from him. ‘Can you please, please, come to see my new work today, sir? I’ve been working on it ever since I got back. Tomorrow my uncle and aunt return from America. I’m not sure where I’ll be after that. Or the work.’

Ashesh had just completed a large canvas. He had some ideas for the next one but they would take a while to form. Meanwhile, he had the time.