Unlike Ravish, I've lived in cities all my life. To fall in love in a city is inextricably linked to falling in love with the city. For most of my life, that city has been Kolkata (it was ticklish to find the story set in Prince Anwar Shah Road, a stretch I've frequented almost regularly for the last six years).

One also longs for cities. Six months in Pune encapsulated, as my partner-in-sharing-Pune put it, "the wingspan of a life". When you know you're going to leave a city, the last few weeks become a longing in itself - like being in the arms of your lover and longing for them.

Cities compare poorly with each other, but the weak heart cannot help it. A city without "parental guidance" (which may have nothing to do with parents) opens up differently. A city visited only twice, on two separate days, once for templehopping with relatives and once for citywalking and seagazing with a dear friend, becomes two cities, two spaces in the heart.

Loving in cities is also loving in the face of a spycam. I like the fact that Ravish acknowledges this, but ultimately does not bow down to its dictums.

The writing is really good in bits. It's the artwork, however, that lends the book some real weight.