Bu slipped into the gap between the buildings, wide enough for the handlebars of a bicycle or the shoulders of an old woman. She was followed by the noises from Thackerji Street - hawkers of vegetables, plastic tea strainers and maxi kaftans were packing up for the day. Night smells were coming in - heavy Jasmine, burning diesel from Fiats and Ambassadors and frying spices from the two star Tardeo Hotel. Bu past a two foot tall Shiva temple and got to the lift of the Maya Building. She was late, it was closed, eight minutes earlier and she could have had a free ride up. The same stains were on the steps - red spit sprays of betel nut juice and orange crushed cockroaches. Bu reached the fourth floor, it was lively as usual. Even with the front doors locked Bu could hear big TV’s and a non-stop clanking of stainless steel plates and glasses. The door to the Sharma flat, the largest of the three, swung open. Vivek went to the iron gate of the lift and pushed the button, his eyes were wet.