Oh my goodness! Is that you, Pheroze? Or has my eyesight worsened thanks to the grime and dust that doesn't show signs of easing, thanks to my nemesis – M?" [Readers should be brought up to speed that by now Lady Flora has decided to not refer to the Metro work and all its woes that have befallen her but collectively call it 'M'].

Standing in front of her, her friend and walking companion, Sir PM a.k.a. Pherozeshah Mehta, was sporting dark sunglasses on a hazy moonlit night. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to chuckle at his new, sort-of fashionable avatar or be the supportive friend, and check if all was well. "My eyes, Lady Flora!" he exclaimed, quickly adding, "I've had a rough past few days. What's with the horrendous lighting display all around me. Didn't you notice?" Lady Flora hadn't. She was safely ensconced at her vantage position, and thanks to the soft LED light that cast an aesthetically warm glow after sunset, and the crowds that thronged to see her, she was all too busy basking in well, the afterglow.