He opened his eyes. Mohammad Ali was now lying next to him and smiling. He looked at Mohammad Ali and said, ‘No yaar, I was not thinking about her.’

‘Do not lie. I can read your face,’ Mohammad Ali said.

‘What is my face telling you?’ Asrar asked.

‘That you are seeing Hina everywhere.’

Asrar said nothing. He remained silent. Seeing no response, Mohammad Ali picked up the spiral-bound book kept near Asrar’s head and exclaimed, ‘A book of poetry!’

‘Yes … so?’ Asrar said.

‘Nothing, you seem like a true lover now,’ Mohammad Ali said softly with the required pauses.

Asrar did not know what to say. A couplet came to him which he had read a while back.

Tum kya jano ajab ajab in baton ko

Aag kahin ho, yahan hun jalne wala mein

(How will you understand this strange condition

Wherever the fire be, here or not, it is me who burns)

On hearing this, Mohammad Ali broke into giggles. He could not control his laughter. The other boys present in the kholi were now looking at them and smiling. They thought that Asrar might have cracked a joke. He mockingly repeated the last line, ‘Wherever the fire be, wherever the fire be … here or not, it is me who burns …’ And kept laughing. Asrar, still as a statue, was gaping at him. There was a small smile on his face too. When Mohammad Ali’s laughter mellowed down, he bent towards Asrar and whispered, ‘The real fire was lighted by Pashupati last night!’

Asrar now grinned from cheek to cheek. He had a full and natural smile on his face. Pashupati’s face came before his eyes. Mischief could be seen in Mohammad Ali’s eyes. It struck Asrar that the thought in his head was not Jamila Miss’s body nor Shanti’s, but it was Hina’s face. He wondered how much pleasure there was in that one moment devoid of any explanation. Hina ruled his soul. She had concealed it. In fact, she had become a powerful blow shaking his nerves. Seeing him drowning in his thoughts again, Mohammad Ali said, ‘When the ghost of love leaves you, we’ll go to Pashupati. She has a cure for all sorrows … and yes, Shanti is also there. How can I forget her?’

Asrar was still silent. His eyes were on Mohammad Ali. Mohammad Ali kept saying things. Asrar was hearing them, but was he really listening? He was lying down on a cot of romance, talking to Hina. By the time he came out of the palace of romance, Mohammad Ali had already slept. A couple of boys had also gone to sleep. Saleem Ghare was chewing away on his paan. Suleiman Vanu was chopping vegetables for the next morning. Asrar turned away and covered himself with a sheet up to his head. In the darkness, he kept thinking about Hina with his eyes open and soon fell asleep.