Waseef quietly observed his friend as he put down a small bag on the table and walked toward the bookshelf close by. Aanvik did not seem to be particularly interested in relieving his company of the stinging silence; with a smile of false contentment, he pulled out a sizeable book.

"Forgotten Stars," said Aanvik. "Audrey Dayfield. What's it about?"

"I don't know," replied Waseef in a voice torn by perplexity. "I have not read it yet."

"Ah, don't worry. You'll know. And I'll know too."

"Know what?"

"What it means to be a forgotten star."

"I still don't get you."

Aanvik shook his head. "We will be forgotten someday, Waseef."

"We will no longer be what we are now," he continued. "These days will be gone. The memory of my younger self standing in your living room and warning you of the inevitability of being wiped out of the heart of the world is perhaps something that will remain. But we might just be lucky enough to die before our names.

"Not everyone is so fortunate, are they, Waseef? Just think of how many youngsters start off so wonderfully in the world of cricket. We feel this one is going to be the next big thing. And then? And then they are suddenly lost. Lost for good. Lost and forgotten in no time."

Waseef turned down an intense urge to contribute to the conversation. He did not know what to say, and the wiser part of him declared silence to be the more favorable choice.

"You are following me. Aren't you?"

Waseef nodded.

"Have you heard of Janessa Martin?" asked Aanvik. "She was perhaps one of the brightest young cricketers Bangladesh woman's cricket has ever seen. It's a shame that her career succumbed to a permanent injury so soon. As per the rule of the world, she was soon forgotten. But, of course, her life did not end with her career. She married the son of her father's Indian colleague, whom she thought she loved, and moved to India."

"What are you thinking, Waseef? That things can only get worse from here?" Aanvik chuckled. "I am afraid you might be right."

Waseef shook his head. He maintained silence nonetheless.

"Things were alright at first. Then they weren't. Her husband did not quite turn out to be the man she believed he was. He grew more and more indifferent toward her with time. So she busied herself with studies, which she enjoyed greatly. Two years later, her world was brightened a little more as she gave birth to a couple of beautiful baby boys. Nice, um?"

Waseef made no comment. Aanvik's bizarre energy was, however, not to be subdued.

"Her neighbor, toward whom she had developed great affection over the years, too gave birth on the same day and at the same place after being childless for over a decade. But alas! The baby died soon after it was brought out."

"The poor parents would have died lamenting if Janessa had not done something extraordinary that day," added Aanvik. "She placed one of her boys in the mother's arms. Janessa's husband, of course, could not care less. To him, it meant having one less trouble at home. What do you think about it, Waseef? Do you like the story?"

"Is this the story you wanted to tell me?" asked Waseef in a shockingly calm tone.

"There's more to it. Don't you want to hear about the babies?"

"Carry on."

Aanvik walked closer to his friend. An almost intimidating sense of strain hung in the air around them as he stood face to face with Waseef.

"The baby she kept to herself," he said, "grew into the man the world knows as Mayank Sharma. And the other baby stands right before you."

Waseef stared numbly into his company's eyes; his lips showed no sign of life.

Aanvik entertained a meager smile. "Wow, boy. You don't look surprised at all."

No response was offered from the other side.

"No issues, though. Save your reactions for another time," Aanvik continued as he took a few steps away from his friends. "I still have a lot to tell you. Let me switch to 'Mamma'; it feels weird to use her first name. That's what both Mayank and I called her, even when I had no idea that she was my biological mom. Ma never objected.

"Mayank often used to stay over at my place, and I at his. We were, of course, unaware of the fact that we were twins, but it made very little difference. We could barely function without each other."

Aanvik turned around once again to face Waseef, whose numb figure stood erect like a half-done statue. "You are listening, right?"

"We never used to see much of Mayank's father, but we could not care less," he continued without waiting for his reply. "He couldn't have loved us any more than Mamma did. We used to run around the room like mischievous little bunnies while she fed us. She never complained. Mamma often read out stories and sang lullabies. We used to fall asleep cuddling her, with her melodious voice ringing in our ears. Ma and Baba did the same for us whenever we were at our place."

Aanvik sighed. "I can never put it into words, Waseef. I hope your mother meant the same to you, for I know no other way of expressing what ours was to us."

Waseef's lips trembled for a moment.

"And no bonus point for guessing who installed in us the love for cricket. Everything was perfectly fine, or so our naive selves thought. We did not realize until much later that something was off. Mamma seemed to be growing quieter and quieter. One day, Mayank told me that he heard Mamma arguing with his father the previous night. A few days later, we were playing in his room when we heard an awful growl coming from the other room. The terrible cry stopped us in our tracks, and it took several moments for us to muster enough courage to approach the source. Fortunately for us, the door was locked, and we could eavesdrop. Mayank's dad and Mamma were fighting again. Mamma sounded upset, but her voice was low, and we could only make out that she was asking him again and again not to yell. It was obvious that she did not want us to know anything about the war going on between them."

Aanvik shook his head. "We could not stand there for too long. We tiptoed back to our room, where we lied quietly in each other's arms. We were scared, Waseef. We were really scared. It was the first time we had ever heard them fight, but I am quite certain we would have been scared even if it were the millionth time."

Waseef tried to ransack his mind for a few words. His lips struggled to part, and all the barrenness of the driest land seemed to claim his tongue.

"Things began to change dramatically. Of course, Mamma never took out anything on us, but it was not hard to notice that she was no longer being herself. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Mayank started to spend more and more time at our place. My mom was always kind to him, but he badly missed the good old days with Mamma, and so did I."

"One evening, we were busy with our homework in my room when the doorbell rang," Aanvik continued. "Ma answered the door, and we came rushing in to see who it was. Mamma. We weren't really expecting her.

"We were sent back to our room. To our dismay, we found out that Ma locked us in. We pressed our ears against the door, trying hard to listen. We could not follow the conversation. After a while, there were no more words to chase. Just sobs. Mamma was crying. We were certain it was her.

"And then things only grew worse. The rest of the time was a blur. Something intolerably unusual was happening. Mayank stopped going to school. In fact, he stopped coming to our house. I would have perhaps gone crazy if we were kept apart any longer. Fortunately, one night, Mamma showed up along with Mayank."

Aanvik smiled. "You should have seen the two of us, Waseef—Mayank and I. Like two wild frogs released in the rain after being kept in a desert for a year. Our joy knew no bounds the moment we felt everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be like before. Mamma fed us what we loved the most. Then once again, we lied down with Mamma in the middle. After a long, long time, she told us a story. And in a tone that seemed sweeter than ever, she sang us a song. We fell asleep knowing that the old days were back."

"And then—" Aanvik stopped and let out a deep sigh. "And then we woke up in the morning, only to find that Mamma was gone."