A couple sits on a bench whispering intensely and hardly looking up. A few daily wage labourers sit around the clock tower waiting for work. A boy sits with his weighing machine on the pavement near the water fountain. Ravi hands him a rupee and stands on what looks like a calibrated tablet. He doesn’t look at the needle but at his toenails. They need a trim.

Ravi stands leaning against a railing, watching the women walk by. They laugh, smile, make eyes at passers-by; they touch each other’s elbows and share secrets. All in all they seem happier than the men.

Curiously, Ravi cannot see them as a whole. He notices individual parts—disembodied and in isolation; he takes in breasts, waists and stomachs; necks, backs and feet; navels, lips and ears; elbows, cheekbones and ankles. He sees each part in its solitary grandeur or isolated ugliness. He sees each part for what it is.

He sees a group of three girls coming out of the Paltan Bazaar lane and crossing the road towards the post office. Hands, legs, necks. He sticks a clammy hand into his pocket and finds a piece of paper and a pen. His heart thuds hard against his chest, then sinks to his uncut toenails.

He walks up to the women and says, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, I’m really sorry to bother you but I’m from Lakmé Cosmetics. We are doing a market survey on nail po . . .’

The girls haven’t stopped walking. Ravi runs along with the scrap of paper in his hand, trying to stay abreast. One of the girls smiles at him, points at her watch and shakes her head.

‘It’s okay, ma’am,’ says Ravi, getting the message and falling behind.

Another two girls pass; Ravi starts again, ‘Excuse me ma’am, I’m really sorry to bother you but I’m from Lakmé Cosmetics. We are doing a market survey on nail polish. Would you like to answer a few questions? It won’t take more than two minutes. Please ma’am, we have to do two hundred and fifty forms today.’

The girls stop. They are of college-going age. No, they reply, of course they wouldn’t mind answering a couple of questions. Ravi goes blank for a couple of seconds. He doesn’t have any questions. He pretends to read from the scrap of paper in his hand.

‘Ma’am, do you apply nail polish?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

‘Ma’am, what’s your favourite colour?’

‘Metallic blue.’

‘Silver.’

‘Ma’am, what’s your favourite company?’

‘Revlon.’

‘Avon.’

‘Ma’am, do you like wearing your nails long or short?’

‘Main to medium rakhti hoon.’

‘Sirf special occasion ke liye badha leti hoon.’

The girls giggle individually while answering the questions, then they look at each other and giggle some more.

‘Thank you ma’am,’ says Ravi, ‘that will be all.’

‘That’s it! Bas?’ They sound disappointed. Ravi looks apologetic.