FLOWER ADMIRATION Mr. and Mrs. Chopra lived in the bungalow, four houses left from us. Their pink bougainvillea hedge was always meticulously trimmed and the lawn was always free of dog droppings. Mr. Chopra was a stockbroker, rich if the neighborhood aunts were to be believed. Mrs. Chopra was the daughter of a wealthy businessman and had never forgotten it. I had always thought of Mr. Chopra as a loser. Maybe it was his hunched shoulders, or his constantly shifting eyes that never met yours, but whatever it was, the first impression was of a nervous temperament. Most of this story revolves around a park. A park, you say? Yes, a park. There was nothing extraordinary about that park. In fact, you can still see similar ones all over the city. The maintenance was funded by the local politician (who lived right next door) and no dogs were allowed. In the morning the aunts could be seen jogging, with flabby arms and thundering thighs, and the young people of the neighborhood, the rich people and the children of the servants, all played happily together. Things at home had been particularly tense that summer. I was a single and somewhat eccentric child, if I may say so, and the park had been my refuge. It was directly opposite the Chopras and Ashish (Chopra's son) and I had spent many hours there. So, Ashish didn't chase any short skirt that came his way and I was not a loner but one of the cool ones. However, (because this story is getting a little off track), it all started with Rita's arrival. And who is this Rita? Allow me to explain. Rita was a distant cousin, as most Indian relatives are, but apparently my mother owed something to her mother, so we were obliged to be respectful and... middle of paper... ...entered the park and, sure enough, Rita was there. Just as I crossed the street I saw Mr. Chopra emerge from his house. He wore a three-piece suit in the humidity, with a bouquet of red roses in his hands. My curiosity was piqued. He looked my way and I instinctively hid behind a neighbor's car. Luckily he didn't notice me and there was no one in sight. As if encouraged, he began walking towards the park. I followed him at a safe distance. Chopra stopped short and with a huff of disgust, threw the bouquet to the ground, turned and walked home. As soon as he was gone I ran to the entrance of the park. The sight stopped me. Rita was in the arms of a well-built man, laughing and smiling as if there was no tomorrow. The man then let go of her and took her face in his hands. He turned suddenly and the recognition was very clear. It was Ashish.