Angad Khanna, a teenage, middle class boy from a family of Hindus and Sikhs was madly in love with Delhi, the only city he knew as home or homeland, a city he passionately loved with the fervour of a devout. He was imbibing the elixir of life, discovering the little joys that growing up brings along-of the first love, the surreptitious initiation into sex, the first drink in the company of a childhood friend, when disaster struck. It was the Orwellian year, 1984, also Angad's sixteenth year. It was time to learn new lessons, of hate and bloodletting, of compassion