It was quarter to five in the evening and Shashank was sitting at a two-seater, corner table at a Cafe. His restlessness was evident to anyone who would give him one look. He was sitting, leaning on the table, elbows on it. Two seconds later, he would sit leaning on the chair. Occasionally, he would pick up the tissue, and wipe off his end of the table with it, or would align his coffee mug handle to a particular angle facing sideways or would rearrange the knife, spoon and the used plate in the