"Mr Mujib is waiting for us in Dhamrai, and he said he’d get us a good deal. I’m not telling him we’re late because my intellectual son has suddenly got an eye for village damsels," said Zaki’s father irritably. He looked critically at Zaki, who was wearing flared trousers that were too fitted at the waist, and some sort of paisley polyester shirt that he must have bought while at university overseas. His hair definitely needed a cut, he looked like a goddamned harami Beatle. "You have no head for business, son, but by God you’re going to learn." Ignoring him, Zaki leaned towards the driver. "You’re from around here, aren’t you, Abdur? Do you know that girl’s name?" The old driver looked disapprovingly at Zaki, "She’s married. And she’s about to have her first child… " His silence was eloquent, and he refused to say anything further. Zaki’s father finished the sentence for him, "…and so what business is it of yours to know her name?" Despite them both, Zaki found out later that her name was Nadya, meaning 'moist with dew', an appropriate name for a girl who took in washing.