‘The heart is the home of the soul,’ Asrar answered immediately. He was amazed to hear his own words. He wondered what had got inside him that was giving such answers! At that very moment, he was reminded of Bani’s couplet that he had decided to recite for Hina. He looked towards Hina and asked for permission, ‘May I recite a sher?’

Hina smiled.

Asrar began:

Ye bisat-e-arzu hai is ko yun assan na khel,

Mujhe se babasta hobat kuch daw par mera bhi hai.

(This is the chess of desire, do not play easy here,

Not just me, but so much of mine is at stake here.)

Hina wrinkled her eyes and looked at him, ‘You seem like a fine poet.’

‘No. I’m not. I know nothing at all. This is a couplet by an Urdu poet.’

They turned and started walking towards Haji Ali.

Hina told him that she had once read a collection of Urdu poets in Hindi when she was in class ten. Asrar coerced her into reciting something if she remembered. Hina said that she could not recollect anything. Asrar tried to persuade her. Hina was enjoying this persuasion. She jogged her memory only to recollect a couplet she had copied in her diary in roman script. She repeated the couplet in her mind and then started reciting it to Asrar:

Na karda gunahon ki bhi hasrat ke mile daad.

(The desire of unfulfilled sins and crimes should be appreciated too.)

Asrar stopped to look at her. She tried recollecting the next line and said:

Ya, rab, agar in kardo gunahon ki saza hai.

(If there is punishment, O Lord! for the sins that have been done.)

Asrar found Hina’s Urdu accent clearer than his own. He also remembered that Jamila Miss had recited this couplet to him many times. When she had recited it for the first time, she had also explained its meaning. He told Hina that this sher was written by a very famous Urdu poet called Ghalib and he had heard it from his teacher before. Hina asked if she had recited it correctly? Asrar answered, ‘Even Ghalib couldn’t have recited it better than you.’

Hina laughed at this hyperbole and said, ‘I didn’t know you are an exaggerator too!’

‘Honestly … ! I meant I enjoyed listening to this couplet in your voice.’

They reached the courtyard of Haji Ali Dargah while chatting. Hina covered her head with a dupatta and stood in the outer circle and started praying. Asrar stood in a corner and stared at her. It was as if her eyes were closed, her lips were chanting but her mind had transformed into an illuminated portrait gallery. In that gallery she could feel Asrar standing and looking at her with longing. All the hues of love were glowing in his eyes. Those colours were fashioned in a way that they evoked a natural attractiveness on Hina’s face. While chanting her prayers, unexpectedly, the words that Asrar had spoken came to her lips, ‘The heart is the home of the soul.’