People came to visit Asrar, and he met them very formally. His neighbour’s daughter, who studied in seventh grade, had been finding reasons to come to his house again and again, but Asrar wasn’t interested. Even before Asrar went to Mumbai, she had been trying to get casual with him but he found her to be just an innocent, young child. After the sunset prayers, his neighbour called out to him. When he returned from the neighbour’s house, he looked surprised. Jamila Miss had called. He told his mother about the call. His mother said that she had met Jamila Miss at the market and had informed her about his visit. Asrar told her mother that he might get late for dinner as Jamila Miss had invited him over. After the prayers he went to his uncle’s house and had a short chat with his aunt. He then proceeded to Jamila Miss’s building. When he reached near, he paused and looked at the jamun tree. He also looked at the bark of the mango tree which had fallen that night when all the curtains between Jamila Miss and him had been taken down. They were just man and woman at that moment.

The primary relation between man and woman was without promises, aims and conditions. Man and woman are each other’s alchemy needs. Everything else is a journey of etiquette. A journey which has successfully destroyed this primary and innocent relationship between man and woman. In spite of this, men and women, even for a moment in their lives, discover this relationship and search for its manifestations. At times this bridge is constructed in a week, a month, a year or many years.

At that point, such was the relationship that existed between Asrar and Jamila Miss. He knocked at the door. Jamila Miss’s face brightened as she saw him. He smiled and entered the apartment. She shut the door behind him and kept standing. She then switched off the tube light. She leaned against the wall, and he moved forward. He placed his hand on her forehead and was about to kiss her when he noticed that she was crying. He did not know what to do or what to say. He asked in a soft voice, ‘What makes you cry?’

She didn’t answer. Her warm tears ran down both her cheeks.

‘Did you have a fight with Sir?’

She didn’t reply. He wiped her tears with her palms. He kissed her forehead and her eyelashes. He licked her eyes. He put his hands on her shoulders and said, ‘Tell me why you are crying.’ It was the first time that he had overlooked the honorifics he would use while addressing her.

She wrapped her arms around him and said, ‘I love you.’

It was the first time that Jamila had also changed the language she used with Asrar.