On certain days she bunks and comes to the university. They go to Kamla Nagar and have vanilla shakes at Chachas. The Delhi School of Economics has a reputation for leaving lovers alone. So they go there and sit on a low wall that runs along a dry nala. One day Anmol pushes his books and bag to one side and snuggles up with Roshni. Under the cover of a register, her hands explore his corduroy crotch. Meanwhile, unnoticed by the lovebirds, the nala has got busy. Street children with coconut fibre for hair, chase each other up and down the length of the drain, playing cops and robbers. Anmol turns around to take his wallet out of his bag only to find it missing. The street kids are nowhere to be seen. He goes with Roshni to the Maurice Nagar police station to register a complaint. The policemen are more interested in Anmol’s appearance. They pass comments on the length of his hair. Anmol recognizes one of the policemen present. He had intercepted their cycle rickshaw the other day when they were returning from Kamla Nagar in the evening. ‘All you girls from good families,’ he had said, pointing a dirty forefinger at Roshni, ‘come here and behave like sluts.’ He threatened to inform her parents. Her parents didn’t know that she often bunked art school and came to the uni. She offered the policeman a hundred rupees, begged him to remain silent.

One day, tired of the lack of privacy, he takes her to Eunuch Park. The park is named after someone distinguished but the students call it Eunuch Park. Men and women of all ages, and all shapes and sizes, go there to get laid. The place has acquired the name because it is run entirely by a gang of efficient eunuchs. For a small fee they guarantee privacy and safety. The cops take a cut from the eunuchs.

They go on a Monday morning. The shrubbery is alive with the sound of bees humming, birds chirping, humans grunting and moaning. They can hear people having sex but cannot see anyone. Every once in a while, Anmol catches a glimpse of a white churidar, a red chunni, a striped shirt. They check out every single shrub in their quest for a vacant slot. There are none. By noon, every bush in the park flaunts an ‘occupied’ sign.