Contd.... As he heads towards the parking for his company sponsored motorbike, he fortuitously slips on some slippery stuff. Someone must have been too busy to dump it in some trash. He almost managed to kiss the ground; head first. People; they can be so careless, especially in kathmandu. He must be careful, he can not afford to ruin the day with some carelessness. Even then, he could not help but whoosh rather faster than usual. He could hardly wait to get inside the house and get to work. Everything appeared to be in a mess even though he had cleaned, arranged and re-arranged everything last night. He repeated the cycle again, dumped the trash, tidied the living room, and off he went to take shower and came back, and surveyed the room one last time. Perfect. Divyaj made a coffee for himself and limped to the couch. "Oh my, how could I?" he suddenly jumps and rushes down to a flower shop on the next block and brings some fresh flowers to put in the vase on the big beautiful table which has been in his family for eons. Sukha dai had made certain that Divyaj would have fresh flowers for the day. After all he had literally seen him grow up and knew how Divyaj had struggled day in and day out, actually and expressively, for this day. Sukha dai empathized with Divyaj, and/but had never heard Divyaj carp. He can vividly remember how Divyaj used to pluck his flowers, call him names and run away. But that was 22 years ago. Not now, not after that day.