Dr Smriti Kumar Sinha (Translated by Ramlal Sinha) SUNDAY morning. Cleansing his spectacles with a soft cloth, Narendra sat in front of the television in the drawing room. “Has it started?” His wife, Surabala, asked him from the kitchen. “No.” Surabala was busy preparing breakfast. With the serial about to start, she was in a tearing hurry. “Hasn’t it started yet?” She repeated. “No, not yet. I will call you. The background music will let you know,” said Narendra. At the very moment, a scooter stopped in front of their gate. Narendra peeped through the window. “Hey, do you hear me? Sunanda and Surendra have arrived!” He rushed to open the door. “What a pleasant surprise! Welcome, welcome. I hardly believed that you would come,” said Narendra. Surabala, on the other hand, poured two more cups of water in the kettle. In haste, she made a couple of omelettes too. “Has it started?” Surendra too questioned as he set foot in the verandah. “About to. We too are waiting,” said Narendra. W
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