Mohini and I avoided looking at the black marketers and waited for Nimita, yet they kept hovering around us like pesky flies. Mohini pulled out the tickets and tapped them on her hand. Then other people began asking, “How much? How many?” Frustrated, Mohini slipped the tickets back into her purse.

I glanced at my watch. “Only five minutes before the show. Why isn’t she here?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she’s late, we’ll have to walk into the theater in the dark.”

“Maybe Girishji changed his plans.”

“So? We haven’t changed ours. Why does she have to do what he tells her to do? Being married doesn’t mean you have to give up your freedom. Girishji doesn’t have to give up his. Nimita has her own brains and she’s not his slave. Why can’t she decide what she wants to do and then do it?”

“But what if there was some emergency or . . .”

“That’s different.”

Fifteen more minutes passed. I was sure something dreadful had happened.

Then Nimita stepped out from a taxi.

“Where have you been? The movie is half over.” I stopped when I saw Nimita’s face. She had a look of a baby pigeon in a thunderstorm: confused and frightened.

I grabbed her hand. “What happened?”

“I . . . I just came to tell you that I can’t watch the movie with you. But you two go and enjoy.”

“Don’t worry about us. Are you sick?” Mohini said, putting her arms around Nimita.

“No, I’m fine. I came because I knew you’d be waiting for me. I have to go back now, but both of you, please, go.”

Mohini looked at me.

“We don’t want to see a movie without you. Let’s go home.”

I flagged a taxi.

On the way, Nimita explained what had happened. Girishji was supposed to get off work at eleven, and then after an early lunch he planned to bring Nimita to the theater. Instead of coming home he called and told Nimita that his boss had asked him to do some extra work and that he wouldn’t be home until two o’clock. When Nimita asked him if she could go to the movie by herself, he said, “What about my lunch?”

“I’ll take out a thali and keep it covered,” she said to him.

“I don’t like eating cold food alone. You can see a movie next Saturday or the Saturday after that,” he said, and hung up before she could say another word.

“I know how long we’ve waited to do this. I’m sorry,” Nimita said.

“Why didn’t you phone him back and explain to him?” I said.

“Because he wouldn’t have understood.”

“How can he not understand that we had tickets? For once, couldn’t he serve himself? Would that have punctured his position?”