She was deep in conversation with a woman called Jess, who never seemed to do anything but was as rich as Croesus. I was watching her at the party my ...riend Sylvia arranged every September – she called it Harvest Festival but there was nothing religious about it. It was, as she put it, a thoroughgoing piss up. It was always on a Friday night, often lasted until Sunday and was all girls. We thought of ourselves as a sort of provincial Bloomsbury set. Sylvie was a writer, Harry painted abstract. So I turned on the mp3 player, I love to hear soft trombone instrumental while driving.She also started to enjoy it; she said “you have a nice taste of music”. We reached our destination i.e. India gate. I parked my car and we started to walk on the grass. And if you live in Delhi, you might know what happens in evening at India gate. As we were walking we saw many couple smooching and getting into intimate position. So she was feeling little shy. So I asked her “why are you feeling shy it’s. More

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