Z rolled the eyes and scoffed. "I expected better, yet here you are a sacredy-cat."

Filip kept quiet. I should say something, he thought, yet held himself back.

"What's your name?" Z asked.

He hadn't planned this silence on his part, he had no intention of prolonging it either. But suddenly, Filip knew Z. It was not about the clothing or the hoarse, deep voice that was as much male as his or the looks, which again were closer to any man he knew. He recognized Z from the deepest core of his heart.

Z was waiting now, expectant. "Are you deaf and dumb?" Z asked. "Can you not speak?"

A smile tugged across Filip's lips. He was being very silly, but the fact that Z thought he was mute amused him. He sat down on the lush sand, his untucked polo shirt stirred by the sea's yawning.

"I never imagined I would meet you here of all places. I still can't believe it," Filip exclaimed.

"What kind of shit are you spewing? Have you hit your head on a boulder?"

Filip took a deep breath and stretched his hand out, "I'm Fil. A photojournalist from London. I'm here to cover the Goa carnival. For the time being, I'm lodging at the Royal House."

Dawn of recognition filled Z's gaze, Z then took Filip's hand and shook it.

"I see. Lara spoke about you. But, how did you know me? Did she mention about this evening?"

"No, she didn't. She changed the subject whenever I mentioned you," he paused trying to assimilate his thoughts and articulate better. He was too baffled to be nervous and continued, "I don't know. I'm equally amazed. I just knew it was you."

"Wow...This is kind of creepy, but I'm not really scared. I don't know what else to say."

"Maybe you can say your name?"

Z arched his brow with a sly smirk and said, "Smooth, really smooth."

Z then took a deep breath and looked Filip straight in the eye. "My given name is Sam," Z finished.

Filip blinked. My given name is Sam...What kind of introduction was that? he thought, and Why? It was an interesting mystery, and Fernandes' parting words Why can't you be normal? clubbed together was somewhat unfathomable to contemplate. He decided to theorize about it once he went back to the Royal House. He would give himself ample time but not now. He wanted to hear from Sam.

He was very soft and gentle now. Through his journalism course content, he had learnt that in certain situations care and consideration worked better than senseless prying or a loud voice.

"Ok. So, what do you want to call yourself then?"

Sam looked at the reverberating sea. A mild breeze fluttered the escaped tendrils from the tight ponytail, yet Sam was far away.

Just then, Filip heard a slow rumble of a boat on the shifting grey surface of the colossal waters. From this distance, the boat was bobbing up like a polythene bag thrown away after its single-time use.

"There it is. Just in time," Sam said and stood up bright and eager.

It wasn't a boat rather a steamer that approached them growing bigger the nearer it loomed.

"I need to leave I guess. Hope I'll catch you some other time. I'm staying at Royal House. Room no. 201. Of course, you know that. Take care," Filip said and turned around to trudge through the sandy shores. He didn't particularly like sand, it stuck everywhere one touched, and sometimes slipped through thin gaps in the shoes never leaving the socks even after soaking them for hours together, and it caused irritating itch in unlikely places that one couldn't reach in time.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sam asked, curious and confused.

"I'm heading back. You are busy, isn't it," Filip replied, uncertain if Sam heard his earlier farewell.

"Aren't you joining me?" Sam asked as though it was a foregone conclusion that Filip would be a part of whatever Sam had planned for the evening.

"What?"

"Fil, are you deaf?"

"Is that a rhetorical question when you know the answer? But why?"

"Hmm...Let me ask you something."

"I thought you are already doing that," he said sarcastically.

He didn't know why he was being difficult. Was it because his chance to spend more time with Sam was disrupted, or was it because he was too afraid to go on an adventure with a complete stranger and tried to mask it with such behaviour? He thought it was both.

Sam was taken aback, when in a small voice, Sam said, " I have a surprise planned for someone. She'll really appreciate it. I thought you might like to be a part of it. Anyway if you have better things to do then, I won't force you."

He relented and said, "I'm sorry for being difficult. It's just that, I didn't particularly have a nice time at that party."

"Which sane person would? It is a routine gala for people like my father who like to drink, gossip and drink some more," Sam summarized that made Filip smile.

"So, Fernandes is your father then?"

"Duh.., and you think you are the next Sherlock Holmes? Anyway, will you join or not?"

"Give me a minute, please?"

Filip took a moment to decide as the boat heaved to the edge of the dock. What was there to lose anyway? What was in store in his room? There was nothing else to explore that night. He knew Anton would chide if Filip disclosed he had nowhere to go in Goa for the evening. It was sin city, which never failed to deliver a stimulating nightlife. Did he want such a night though?

"Ok. Let's go then," he confirmed.

They boarded the boat, a streamer or whatever —just schematics.

Sam introduced the occupants. There were not many. There was Naveed —the six-foot Pathan with the traditional Mehendi beard, which was as red as blood and a sword. He owned the boat and sailed it as well. There was then Chikoo, with gaps in his teeth, wiry all over wearing a crumpled banian with grease marks and faded cotton shorts— the ten-year-old assistant.

"Chalo bhai Chalo. We need to pick her up as well," Sam urged and Naveed complied.

The boat jerked forward, Chikoo was combing his hair into some sort of latest style as Sam looked at him in amusement. Sam then turned to Filip and smiled.

"I found Chikoo in a dustbin," Sam said.

"He was crying with his strong lungs with a few stray dogs snarling around him. I shooed the dogs away, got him out of there, and carried him to a clinic. They patched him up, and I took him home. I bought all the required stuff including baby formula, clothes, diapers, and other essentials. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I will learn everything to take care of him."

When Filip didn't reply and only nodded, Sam continued, "Father was not home that night. I kept him in my room. For two months, I somehow managed. Father came to know. He thought it was my child. It is enough to say there was a lot of drama. I knew Bhai. I put Chikoo in his hands. He is a good lad. Safe here with Naveed. You know why he is named Chikoo?"

Filip didn't make any more gestures, he very well knew it was rhetorical, Sam was bursting to tell that titbit.

"When he was just six months, Naveed mashed a Sapodilla fruit and fed him. The stupid boy ate it with gusto. Naveed just named him Chikoo. I couldn't believe it. I thought I would name him. Anyway, Chikoo says he named himself Sam when he went to school."

"You must be very pleased," Filip guessed.

"I...I'm not sure. It's only my given name."

There again Filip wanted to pry about it right away but had another question looming in his brain.

"Do you own that dance bar?"

When Sam frowned, he elaborated.

"Lara took me there yesterday. She said you weren't around. Do you own the place with dancing girls?"

"Ah...Apsara dance bar you mean? No, I don't own it, but I know all the girls. I sent few of them there for work when I found them."

"But why a dance bar? Couldn't you just hand them over to some NGO or something?"

"Why not? It is honest work with no oppression of any sort. They are free to do as they please," Sam countered. It was same logic Lara had used about child labour.

"We live in a bad world. These girls ran away from their houses for different reasons, and some just got lost at a very young age. They can't go back to their families. They don't have any means of living. They are poor," Sam explained.

Filip took a deep breath. He didn't know what to say. This was in complete contrast to the evening he had witnessed earlier. Sam was not Fernandes, but a good Samaritan with kindness, and compassion filled in the every fibre of the being. The paintings —naked Lara and the palace door hinted at something Filip could grasp, yet he wanted Sam to spell it out for him.

"Where are we going anyway?" Filip asked effectively changing the subject.

Before Sam could answer, the boat reached a bank that creaked and scraped as Chikoo lowered a plank. He didn't wait for much longer for the reply. While Naveed heaved the boat, Sam and Chikoo helped someone mount it.

In the dim light of the few, yellow fluorescent lamps on the deck, Filip could make out a woman walking across the plank, and Sam's voice guiding her.

"Careful Sheela. Don't bend, take my hand. You are almost there."

"Super. You made it," Sam rejoiced.

Sheela burst into boisterous laughter that made Sam and Chikoo laugh along. They all laughed for a while. Sheela was a slender woman with prominent collarbones, a long stalk of a neck, gangly arms and a small bump of a belly. She was in a sparkling georgette saree that sharply contrasted the dark bruises on her shoulder, which looked hot and furious even under the darkness of the night. The deep, irate scratches running from the inside of her forearms to the elbow described her story with no need for words.

"I see, you wore the saree I got you?" Sam cooed.

"Yeah, I had to. I promised, didn't I?"

"You look gorgeous, darling."

"I know. I always do."

Sam laughed and pulled Sheela into a tight embrace. Sheela returned the gesture, lowered her head, rested on the shoulder, and shuddered for a moment.

Filip waited. Maybe Sheela covered her bruises both inside and out with her mirth, perhaps she even wished to have a different life. Sam knew something about her, there was no use talking now until her distress was over.

The moment prolonged, yet Sam chirped, "Ready for your wish to come true?"

"Can't wait," Sheela said moving away from the embrace, wiping stray tears and smiling yet again.

Naveed expertly sailed his boat further into the sea with a clear view of the night. The moon was as bright as yesterday; it was a full moon after all. It was hanging low and easy to pluck like a pale cantaloupe.

Darkness surrounded them accentuated by the bright moon. Sam didn't make any introductions and, Filip didn't mind. It was Sheela's night out. Sheela closed her eyes for a moment and took in her surroundings. It looked like she had waited all her life to be here.

Just then, Sam gingerly pulled out a cake from a small white package that Chikoo had placed on a bench. He then lit a single candle and inserted it.

"Come on birthday girl. Time to cut the cake."

Sheela turned around with moist eyes. "You didn't have to do it," she mumbled in a half-hearted attempt to contain her tears, which now flowed freely.

Sam wrapped the arms around Sheela and brought her forward. Sheela took the knife from Chikoo and fondly rumpled his hair much to Chikoo's annoyance, yet he didn't complain.

She took a deep breath, and with trembling hands cut the cake.

"Make a wish," Sam urged.

"Thank you for making this the most memorable day of my life. I only wanted to see the moon much closer. I love you, Sammy, and bless you. I hope all your dreams come true," Sheela whispered.

"Awh...Thank you, darling. You made my day. But what's with all these waterworks? It's your day, enjoy as long as it lasts." She nodded, moved around the deck and found a spot in the bow of the boat staring at the moon.

Sam cut up the cake, fed everyone, handed a piece to Filip too that he silently accepted, and sat next to him. Naveed finished his piece and was busy steering his boat, while Chikoo enjoyed an extra helping of the cake.

For a bit, everything was quiet, and then Filip jerked forward when he heard a booming splash.

Sheela wasn't around then.

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