PART THREE, THIRTEEN
“Let’s proceed homewards,” Simran remarked. None of us wanted to use the car so we had come without any. Firstly, Hermen had already exhausted his pocket money, and Shasht’s car was in a repairing garage. Mine was in my garage, because I hardly used it. I remained preoccupied most of the time, and driving under preoccupation was like driving when drunk. We had already begun walking. By the time we were near Modern International School it was nine forty-five. A few cars passed by. Some zoomed, while others moved at a moderate speed. The roads got more deserted than ever. Two middle-aged people, swaying like the branches of a tree in the breeze, were singing the latest number of a Hindi movie. They were in their own world as we were in our own, moving homewards. Simran was giggling at t
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