Blondie, the dog, walked in, tail wagging, looked at both the men, sat down beside Baba and with her paw sought Baba’s attention. Baba caressed the girl. As if on cue the other two dogs, named Boy and Girl, walked in and after a while found their respective places in the room. The sun had set forty-five minutes ago and Baba had finished His customary prayers while Rudra tinkered away in the kitchen. This was their daily routine. Sunset meant prayers for Baba. Rudra prepared his controversial chai, with lemon grass, while the coal for the chillum was readied. They then sat and drank tea and passed the chillum around. Once it got dark they would walk on the beach and say their respective prayers.

The rules applied as always. Rudra was not to speak to Baba when with other people. He was to behave as if Baba was not even present. Thus any sort of an introduction was out of the question which was rule number two, followed by rule number three: Rudra should not mention his interaction with Baba to anybody.

The rule of eating one meal a day at some café, where there was human company, was relaxed. Now it was thrice a week. Rudra continued to eat at Martins’, the establishment run, managed, served by the formidable Martins’ with their crew who had last smiled when India had become an independent nation. Even now after two years or more of Baba and Rudra’s first meeting, the only sign of familiarity was that they had assigned Akbar, a chap who was as gregarious and forthcoming as a defunct signboard, to serve Rudra. He mumbled the day’s menu and Rudra would mumble back what he wanted to eat and then would read the papers while he ate his food, tipped the sourpuss, then one of the Martins’ would grunt a goodbye and that was that. Sometimes those who knew Rudra or of Rudra would come and speak for a while or take time for channelling.

Oh yes, the fourth and last rule still applied. Rudra would do all the housework on his own except when it had anything to do with electricity, carpentry or plumbing. Baba would so often remind Rudra that he would rather drink his lousy tea than see his feeble, confused attempt at housekeeping.

Thus every night Baba and Rudra would go for a stroll and, upon their return, as Baba rarely ate dinner, maybe a buttered toast dunked into tea, both the men would pray and talk through the night. Baba would often take Rudra on an astral voyage and Rudra would do as he was told during those journeys. Earlier it was fascinating, but now, it was like entering another room and taking care of innumerable people with virtually similar problems.