Madhavrao and Sharada descend the worn-out stairs of the tenement building. The ripples from Madhavrao's perplexed state of mind lap against Sharada as she walks beside him. He clears his throat many times but not a word emerges. She herself is in a daze. Sing the way I tell you to or I am not your guru. This is the essence of what Guruji has said. Think about it and only then come to me. Think? That I have no creative freedom, that I am duty-bound to sing traditional songs in the traditional way? That if I wish to step out of this rigidly defined tradition, I must do so without a guru? What space does that offer me to think and decide?

Madhavrao and Sharada are on the street below. Madhavrao must face the last test. How is he to say goodbye to a disciple who has offended his guru? With a smile, as though nothing unusual has happened? Or with a stern face that will make it clear she did wrong? Madhavrao does neither. There is no smile in his heart for it to emerge on his face. There is no sternness in his nature for it to enter his voice. Looking utterly miserable, he says, ‘So sorry, so sorry,’ a few times in his sandpaper voice and hurries away with lowered head.

Sharada stands below Guruji's rooms in the slanting sun. Her feet will not move from the spot. She raises her head to look at his window. He is not there. She feels orphaned.

14

The spacious auditorium of the college in Vile Parle is full. The new two-storey art gallery, self-deprecatingly called Shosha, located on the main road near the college, has established itself in the two years of its existence as a gallery with a difference. Galleries generally exhibit and sell works by their stable of artists and a few others. That's the sum of their activity. Shosha holds what it calls an art bazaar twice a year to display works by a range of miscellaneous artists. Old and young, established and new, abstract and figurative, traditional and contemporary—you can see them all there. The general public is familiar with bazaars. You can stroll through a bazaar. A bazaar represents choice. It offers the possibility of finding an unexpected something that will catch your fancy. The bazaar is a place where you meet other shoppers, discuss each other's buys or the day's news. A bazaar is a place where you need not buy but merely window-shop. The general public which has been to Shosha's bazaars finds the place familiar enough for it to walk in for its regular shows too. Not only does the public come for them, but also looks forward to writing its unminced opinions in the visitors’ book at the entrance.