ABSTRACT
When his mother raised the issue of Vidyasagar about a week ago, Ani had said, ‘And how long would you put us to sleep with the nipple of Vidyasagar in our mouth?’ And that answer again surfaces in a smile playing about his young moustache. Now, after some time I stretch and move in my seat. In an effort to cut through this magic web of silence I say as I clear my throat, ‘Hasn’t your cold got better yet?’
