Why is it that in the midst of a relationship, sometimes, a trembling finger or two of secret desire stretches out in surrender---a desperate pull to touch another relationship? What is the forbidden but unfathomable secret of being close to one's chest and trembling with the scent of another? Other-relationship, an eternal crisis. Burying your head in the pile of social rules, standing in the yardstick of morality, the arti of intense but unsanctioned asang. Sourav Mukherjee's most recent novel also echoes that eternal bleeding of helplessness, that endangered wonder. 'other'. Not just a story of juicy alienation, not just an account of defection, not just a narrative of disloyalty; Above all, a story of fragile, sad, hesitant, unrequited love. Surrender to human frailty, the alchemy of its thrills, its sorrows, self-doubts, realizations; A novel full of multi-dimensional sense of life.