They came to the road from the beach and wandered for a while. They were looking at the Bandra–Worli flyover that was under construction over the sea. Hina said that when this bridge would finally be ready, it would become easy to drive from Bandra to the main city. Asrar said, ‘Ready for difficult journeys with you.’

Hina immediately said, ‘Does this line also belong to your favourite poet Nani?’

Asrar smiled and said, ‘No. This is my own line. Moreover, my favourite poet’s name is Bani not Nani.’

They laughed together.

They reached the Mumbai Central station at 7.45 p.m. Before boarding the taxi, Hina took out a small box from her bag and gave it to Asrar. ‘This is for you.’

Before Asrar could say anything, Hina could feel his surprise. ‘Open it only after you have reached home,’ she instructed.

Asrar thanked her.

‘Thank you,’ Hina mimicked him.

He smiled.

After saying goodbye to Hina, he walked to the Mumbai Central state transport depot.

Suddenly something came to his mind. He bought half kilogram of aflatoon from a nearby sweet shop and went straight to Shanti. She was with a customer at that time. Asrar told Madhuri that he would return in half an hour. He went towards Bachchu Ki Wadi. He ate kebab from a stall. Once Mohammad Ali had taken him there for kebabs. The taste of the kebab still lingered in his mouth when he desired to have tea. There was a restaurant at the head of the road. He went there. Flies thronged the place. A plastic jug was kept at a table. Two beggars were drinking tea and sitting opposite each other at a table. One of them had a dirty, green cloth on his shoulder. Asrar had seen such beggars in his village who put a green cloth on their shoulders and begged in the name of Allah and the Prophet every Thursday. Hence, that was nothing new. While drinking tea, he started eavesdropping on what the beggars were saying. They were talking in the distinct Mumbai dialect. From their conversation he guessed that they found fault in most things and were very disappointed with the administration of the country. They looked aggrieved. They were also talking about the destruction of the world. The one with the green cloth on his shoulder claimed in a loud voice, ‘The Ghazwa-e-Hind (Battle against India) was predicted by the Prophet. That day is not very far.’ The beggar who sat opposite him did not express any opinion on what was said. Probably he had already heard this innumerable times. He waved away the fly sitting on his cup and then started talking about some diseases. The other beggar wiped his face with the green cloth and claimed, ‘The cure for all illnesses is in the Quran. Do not send your wives to English doctors. It is haram.’

Asrar was amazed at the seriousness of the conversation the beggars were having.