This was to be a period in her life when an unhappy, loveless Meena would be under the ruthless microscope of nosy neighbours like Janki Dass. His memory mercilessly offers pieces in Meena story. One morning, he took Mukherji to Meena's bungalow at the far end of Janki Kutir. There was no one to stop them. No servants, no security guards. They walked in. Mukherji hesitated and sat outside in the vernadah, even as an informal Dass sauntered in. Meena was sitting on bare, cold marble floor with a half glass of whiskey near her. She was oblivious to surrundings, unaware of of her dishevelled hair or disturned blouse. She saw him entering. What came on her is difficult to know but looking at him with glazed eyes she picked up the glass and poured the golden liquid on her head. "Kyon Meenaji,any problem?" Dass asked. She wept, "Janki....He hasn't come for days...I can't live without him. All have left me. No one loves me." She was pining for Dharam. Dharam was shooting abroad. Drinking alone was depressing. She wanted someone, anyone. Where had they all gone? Everyone was at her beck and call when she was on the top, when she could be useful to them, when they wanted something... Meena picked up the phone. Mechanically, she started dialing for Dharam and stopped herself. Pradeep Kumar.... "Pradeep...kabhi yeh khayal aaya hai ke dekhoon Meena kaisi hai?" She asked.She was drunk but her voice was steady. "Meena...?" "Haan Meena." "I remember you a lot but there is a lot of work..." "Ab kya kar rahe ho?" "Kuchh nahin..." "To aa jao na..."