It was a Sunday. The boys had started playing their cricket even before the sting in the sunrays had disappeared, a time when on any other days of the week they would have been languishing in the last period of their classes. Within minutes of starting the game their faces were red and their bodies sweat soaked. The shirts stuck to their backs. This small plot of grass-covered land, large enough to build a big house with a garden, was one of the few open spaces still left in this area. The boys, ever since they were allowed to venture out of their houses had known this place as their playground. They did not bother their little heads with the fact that somebody owned this place and a house could be built on it any time. On one side of the ground close to the high boundary wall of the hospital premises stood a clump of trees among copious undergrowths. It was strange that there should be so many trees in the middle of an area crowded by houses of all shapes and sizes; however they had never seemed strange to the eyes of these boys as much as the future of their playground did not weigh upon their mind.