Though Tanishk was engulfed in the city crowd after Masru Uncle’s death, he had become alone from the inside. Though he had earned money, fame and his customers' satisfaction from his salon on 56th Street, now he had become disinterested in this. Whenever he had time, he would go, with the utmost respect, to one of the memory pools near the World Trade Centre, on whose walls Masru Uncle’s name was engraved forever along with hundreds of others. He would then place a yellow rose on his name. But now Tanishk was loathing this solitude. Now his mind would not get busy with the Sheikh’s talks as he used to travel a lot to expand his business.