Was it him? It couldn’t be. She thought he was in America. What was he doing back home? And in this park, right next to where she lived? Was he hoping to bump in to her? Or was he just out for a jog ? Was it really him at all? Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. And if it was him, how would he know that she was home for a holiday too? No, it wasn’t him. And if it was, and he had seen her, why didn’t he come over and say hello? Was he still in love with her? No. That was impossible. It was all so long ago. If she walked a little faster she might be able to see him again. Oh God! Prema Mami, don’t come and talk to me now. What if he’s left? What if I don’t see him in the next round? There he is. Turning the corner. Or, there is the person who looks like him. Amma says there are seven people in the world who look just like us. He’s coming closer. Oh God! I’m sweating. And my t-shirt is inside out. And my legs haven’t been shaved. Is that his wife? Or sister. He’s getting closer. No he never had a sister. Maybe a friend. Or a colleague. Or a girlfriend. She looks skinny. And fair. Her ponytail is all swishy and perky. So what if it’s his girlfriendwifesistercolleague. Oh God. I think I’m going to have a heart attack. Great. He sees me after eight years and I’m hairy and having a heart attack. What if she fell dead right at his feet? What was that? Irony or something. It can’t be his wife or girlfriend. He had sobbed and said she was the only one. No one else would do. No. It must be a friend. A married friend. A lesbian friend. Of course it was. The hair was the same. The arms leaner. The face looked more grown up. The eyes. There were those eyes. It was him. Smile. Say hello. Wave. What! Why is he looking away? What’s he whispering in to the lesbian’s ear? Well fine. Like I care. I hope you’re happy with your lesbian. And your arms look like they’re attached to the wrong torso. And who has the same hair cut for eight years anyway?