Indraneel’s sudden death averts a possible divorce, and takes Radhika on a fantastic inward journey of discovery of her own roots through the language of poetry, and lost love. A publisher asks Radhika to complete Indraneel’s works. This compels her to study his work, and thus begins her journey into the past. She realizes how much he romanticized their mundane, everyday life. Yet in reality, he was often insensitive, negligent and apathetic towards her. She wonders about his dual identity. How can a poet be unaware of his day-to-day realities, yet highlight moments from it in his art? Is art essentially an artifice?