At night, after dinner, he read Bani’s poetry for some time. He underlined those lines which reflected the condition of his heart. He did not pay much attention to those lines he didn’t comprehend. He would read the ones he found easy, repeatedly. He felt that his thoughts carried him away. He roamed in worlds that were far away. He took Hina to new places with him. In the deep valleys of his imagination, Hina would accompany him, every time in different clothes and new hairstyles, and full of splendour. He would hold her hand in his hand and tell her about all the new things they saw. Once he took her on a sea voyage on a magnificent boat. They talked about the speed of the waves, the distinct shades of the water, its stillness, the birds flying around. He wanted to tell Hina about the numerous fish and their heartwarming colours which she had never seen.

When, for a moment, the chain of his imagination would break and he would return to the real world, he would remain lost for a long time. And then regret having come out of the tilismic circle of his imagination. All pleasures had stationed in those thoughts where Hina was with him.

He kept the book near his head and closed his eyes.

Everyone in the kholi was busy doing their work or chatting. Saleem Vanu had bought a new phone and most of them were looking at it. The mobile was still a luxury and out of reach for most people, especially because calls were very expensive. Asrar was not feeling sleepy, but he wanted to keep his eyes shut. He wanted to close his eyes so that he could drift into a dream. A dream where he was with Hina. After a while, a dream did come to him. A dream that he had seen some time back. He tried remembering it. In that dream he had forgotten his way in a jungle. The trees in that forest were black in colour. The floor of the jungle was also black and a few tufts of grass and weeds around were also black in colour. The butterflies were also black.

He remembered that even the colour of the water flowing in the brook was black. He sat on the bank of the river in disappointment. After a while, a boat came towards him. A woman was sitting in that boat. Did he forget the dream, or did he not remember it in the same way he had seen it originally? He pushed his brain to recollect that there was a circular mark of kumkum on her forehead. The woman told him that her name was Mumba and she had the knowledge of all the routes of the jungle. He tried recollecting the conversation he had had with that woman earlier. He was still trying very hard and was able to recollect the conversation partially when Mohammad Ali came and whispered in his ears, ‘Are you thinking about Hina?’