Published in The Times of India, October 28, 1962

“Damn it!” muttered Arun as he battled with his tie. He pulled and twisted and snorted with rage when the knot crept up behind his ear.

“Malti! Aren’t you ready yet? Oh! There you are! Do you have to wear that pink sari every time we go out? Why don’t you try to dress a bit more carefully?” He ran a comb through his hair and fingered the little patch of grey at his temples.

“But you always like this shade…” replied Malti haltingly.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Arun irritably as they got into the car. He crashed the gears unmercifully, and the little car bounded out into the road.

“Such a beastly bore, these buffet dinners.” He grumbled. “One meets the same lot of idiots and talks nonsense. I suppose the Singhs will be there, and Ratan Lal and his wife, and probably that young fellow from Poona.”

Malti maintained a stony silence and eventually Arun gave up and drove with his lips set in a thin line.

The party was in full swing when they entered. There were about a dozen couples chatting in the beautifully furnished lounge. The hostess came forward smiling mechanically.

“Hello Arun – Malti! You look positively stunning. Come over and meet…” she led Malti away to the farther end of the room, talking animatedly.

“Here you are, old chap” the host thrust a glass into Arun’s hand. “You know everybody, don’t you? Make yourself at home.” He clapped Arun on the back and passed on to talk to a lady in blue.

Arun found himself listening to a little bald man with huge spectacles holding forth on the merits of bee-keeping as a home industry. Absently, he mumbled vague replies and glanced around the room, his bored eyes taking in the glittering scene.

“The usual crowd,” thought Arun, “except for a couple of un-interesting people like the one next to me. There’s a girl in white over at the far corner. The way Ratan and Vijay are making eyes at her – positively ridiculous!” Arun, craned his neck to get a better glimpse of her. “By Jove! She is a beauty! Wonder who she is.” His mind raced.

“Hallo, hallo, fancy meeting you here after all these years,” he breezed in, elbowing two young men out of his way. “How is your dear mother? And Aunt Amina’s leg? Is it better? We must have a long chat about old times.” Gently but firmly, he led the astonished young lady away to a quiet corner and drew a chair for her.

“Sorry for the unoriginal gambit, but I had to get you away from those oafs,” he apologised, leaning against the window.

“Why?” The huge eyes looked as if they could throw out sparks.

“Because you are beautiful and I want to talk to you,” Arun answered gravely.

She laughed softly and her long earrings swung to and fro. “You are a forthright man, Mr. –“

“Never mind names. For tonight we shall both remain incognito,” murmured Arun.

Dinner was being served, and they rose to join the others at the buffet. Arun helped the girl to fill her plate and they sauntered back.

From the other end of the room, Malti watched them engrossed in intimate conversation.

“You are a most entertaining person to talk to,” the girl was saying as she laughed at one of Arun’s sallies.

“Now, tell me about yourself,” began Arun as dessert was being served.

“Oh, there is nothing much to say,” replied the girl as she bent her head and spooned some of the chocolate pudding into her tiny, red mouth. Her short hair fell on to her cheek in waves, and Arun thought she looked beautiful and somewhat mysterious.

“I am just an ordinary working girl; you can see me at my desk in the goyer at Veekay’s every day,” she said gaily.

“Veekay’s? That’s just around the corner from me! Look! Why don’t we get together for lunch one of these days? Or perhaps a cup of coffee?” Arun spoke with gay abandon.

“That would be nice,” said the girl in white, smiling at him through her thick lashes.

“Let me have your telephone number, will you? I’ll ring you up and we can fix something soon.”

The girl opened her bag and wrote on a slip of paper and handed it to Arun. He pocketed it with a flourish.

The guests started to leave in twos and threes.

Arun hummed a song as he drove slowly along the bright roads.

“You seemed to have made quite a hit with Sheila,” remarked Malti glancing at his face.

“Who?” asked Arun after a moment.

“Sheila. Anan’s sister. The girl in the white sari.”

“Oh! Her! we did not get around to exchanging names,” Arun said casually, “Walkin’ back to happiness,” he sang softly to himself.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” asked Malti wistfully.

“Is she? I didn’t notice it particularly. A bit too thin for my taste, I thought. Now, take. a well-filled lady called Malti – she’s my dish,” Arun said, and gently squeezed her hand.

“Lovely night,” he said a little later as they were changing. Malti was busy with a jar of cold cream. Arun went to the window and gazed at the clear, moonless sky.

His fingers found the slip of paper in his coat pocket. Deliberately, he tore the little piece of paper into tiny fragments and let them flutter out the window. He turned to his wife.

“Malti! Did I ever tell you look ravishing in pink?”