Kiaan was irritated by the Kolkata smog that enveloped the wintry sky as he stepped out of the airport. There is so much pollution here he thought wishing that he was back in his pretty squeaky clean university campus. The taxi veered in towards his south Kolkata home and the taxi driver kept on chatting on umpteen topics ranging from mamata banerjee’s latest speech to the raging prices of Hilsa in the market. By the time Kiaan reached home…his irritation at Kolkata had given way to nostalgia. He had even stopped on his way to have a steaming hot cup of tea in a bhar….Kolkata’s unique offering. As he neared the bougainvillea laden garden of the Mittirs …his eyes automatically strayed towards the larger, more fashionable home that Asha and her parents lived in. Ashu…he thought reflectively …that’s the name I used to call her with. Somehow all this years in his university had not made him forget the doe eyed red haired girl he had once been in love with. The burning ambition of being an USA citizen had made him cut off communication from a relationship that Kiaan had dismissed as being “too complicated”. However now that he was back he was severely tempted to see her once ….at once.