The audience pours out into the foyer for tea, falling into groups like patterns of glass pieces in a kaleidoscope. In a group in the far corner, Sadashiv Bapat who is scheduled to speak next is already saying a great deal. The eyes of the young men around him are transfixed on his animated face. Prakash is weaving his way around the different groups in search of Janaki. He spots Anima and guesses that Janaki, who was sitting next to her, must be somewhere around her. Joshi sir and Banatwala sir are also there. Prakash had been in art school when some alumna had persuaded the dean to invite practising artists to interact with final-year students. This would not only be of immense help to the students as they got ready to step out into the real world of art, they told the dean, but it would also add glory to his name as the man who tried to do something new and different for the art school. The dean had welcomed the idea. He had instantly sent out letters of invitation to reputed artists in the city to come and talk to the students. Some of them accepted and came, Padamsee sir, Joshi sir, Banatwala sir amongst them. However, a few weeks later, the dean saw that the artists barely gave him the time of day. Not only did they not give him the respect he deserved, they gave too much to the students, which was a sure way of putting ideas into their heads. What hurt the dean most was the complete lack of interest that the media had shown in his innovative programme despite his having sent press notes to every paper. Thus, much against his will, he had been compelled to close down the programme.

Prakash hovers around Anima's group. ‘Excuse hunh, but where is Janaki?’ he stutters. Somebody in the crowd knocks into him causing his right hand to plunge into Anima's teacup. It confuses Prakash. He says ‘sorry-sorry’ to Anima, not once or twice but again and again like a wound-up toy. Anima puts her teacup down and waits patiently for him to wind down. Then she grabs his wet hand and gives it a good scrub with her handkerchief. ‘Now let's do one thing,’ she says gently. ‘Take this tea to the counter there, see? Leave it there and bring me another cup, please. Get a cup for yourself as well. Janaki is also somewhere there. She's gone to get herself tea.’

Prakash spots Janaki as he walks carefully towards Anima balancing two cups of tea. He hands Anima's cup to her and turns back. ‘Janaki,’ he calls out, hurrying towards her. ‘What are you doing in Mumbai?’

‘You tell me first what you are doing.’

‘I told you already. I’m an artist. Passed out from art school two years ago.’