Lady Flora rubbed her eyes in disbelief as she approached their usual hangout at Horniman Circle Gardens. Her friend, Sir PM, was sweeping around their favourite bench. It made for an amusing sight, where the sharply dressed gent was engaged in a domestic routine. She nearly let out a laugh, “Pheroze, what in God’s name has gotten into you!” Sir PM stopped at once; a sheepish smile enveloped his face, after he removed his face mask. “My Lady, I am sorry if I startled you with this unplanned activity. I was sprucing the place for our session,” he added. “But why this sudden obsession?” his friend’s curiosity was sufficiently piqued, all the more because he had skipped their previous Sunday meet-up.

“Well, if you must know, I was invited to an exclusive cricket match last weekend by the Maharajah of Malwa. The game was between the royals and law-makers from pre Independent India. It was a splendid day in whites. I was a tad rusty, and managed to score only 16 runs, but pouched a good, low catch in the…” Before he could proceed, Lady Flora interrupted him, “I’m happy that you could rekindle your passion with the old boys’ club but what has triggered this cleanliness fix?”