O Dear, Dear, Pitaji, it is now 2:15 am on the 3rd of November 1992. I am looking at THY empty bed. How Thou didst lie there at this hour, awaiting the night medications and sometimes looking at the clocks in the large sun-mica dining table, and winding up the maroon-coloured clock with the chyme, from Mussoorie, and holding it up close to thy ear.