Charulata nudges the second cup across the brass tray with one finger, a red-bordered shawl sliding off her shoulder as the first rain drops hit the railing. “Sit, shona. There is no hurry in this city.” Hello shona. It has started to rain and the whole street has gone quiet. The shop is shut, the balcony is dry and the tea is still hot. Sit down and tell me what you've been reading.