By Aditya Maiti
Anukriti The tempo pulled up on a Thursday afternoon. I was having tea on my balcony when I saw it - one of those small tempos people use for moving, backed into the lane below. The flat next door had been empty for two months since Bose Uncle passed away. His son lived in Bangalore and had been trying to rent it out. A woman got out. Late twenties maybe, wearing jeans and a kurta, hair tied back. She looked up at the building, then started directing the workers with the boxes. I finished my tea and went back inside. The Durga Puja pandal was going up down the street - the hammering had been going on for days. Another week until the festivities started. I ran into her near the building gate that evening. "Hi," she said. "I just moved into 3A. I'm Anukriti." "Oh, welcome. I'm Aditya. I'm in 2B, right next door." We shook hands. Her grip was firm. "Need any help settling in?" "No, I'm managing. Thank you though." "Coo...