Janaki stares at the computer, chin cupped in her palms. She doesn’t see the computer. She sees nothing. She is waiting for the stream of memories to start. Each time there's a letter from her mother, they come as photographic stills. Her mother's face. Her terrified eyes. Her body contracted into itself. Janaki in the background. Not the Janaki she sees in the mirror every day. She is a different person, her face distorted with hatred. He stands before them, the object of her hatred. His massive hand grips her mother's arm. He drags her into their bedroom, showering her with obscenities. She comes out later, a little less human. Janaki, watching, is choked with revulsion, like an overfull gutter, at this woman who allows her humanness to be gouged out of her, lump by lump.

When it ends, Janaki expects to return to herself, to crumple the letter into an angry ball and fling it away.

But today the memories don’t come. Her mind is a blank, numbed by the abjectness of her mother's letter. She finds no trace of the familiar revulsion. Has time done its bit? If her mother were to stand before her now, would she shred her with her tongue or . . . what? What would she do?

Somebody shakes her arm. ‘Where are you?’ Suryakanta from Marketing is looking at her with mild surprise. ‘I said come for lunch, twice. But you’re like all spaced out.’ She notices the letter in Janaki's hand. ‘Sorry, yaar. Problem?’ Janaki folds the letter and slips it into its envelope. ‘Of course there's a problem,’ she says getting up. ‘I’m paralysed by the thought of the oily cutlets in the canteen. What kind of life is it for them to sit on chipped plates—burnt and oozing oil—pretending to be lunch?’

‘Who said anything about cutlets? I have a free meal for two at the Golden Dragon. How's that?’

‘Why me? Is Rishi trekking in the Himalayas?’

‘You because Rishi has trekked out of my life.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yessss. We’ve ssssplit.’

‘You split in March and again in May.’

‘This is for good.’ Suryakanta swings her hips, packed tightly into a pair of jeans, in haughty anger as she leads the way. Janaki grins at the thought of how she's going to look at the Golden Dragon sitting with this piece of today. Perhaps she should get herself some smart clothes. One of these days.

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