I saw him one nippy November evening sitting on a pavement under a row of Gulmohar trees on a bungalowed street on Coyaji road. He wore an old light brown corduroy suit, a dark bowler hat, and was firmly engrossed in poring over a book under the dim sodium light of the lamppost. There was a gentle wind blowing that night and the trees cast their swaying shadows on the mossy wall behind him, the pale yellow light lending a mellow gossamer glow to the setting, almost ethereal i