before the rains, 7

and after that day, he never called me by my name. it was always hi cloud, you look tired cloud, it’s hot cloud – need a bit of you cloud. and much later, on a december evening, he returned a thousand rupees he’d borrowed. the money was in a white envelope with a

thanks cloud.

that day in the park, i am surprised though.

cloud, he says, can u carry a message for me? not very far, though it’s far for me.

i know where she must be. in another busy street, another cramped flat. same old place, but a different corner

of delhi