Mrs Sharma’s life is an ordinary one. She works as a receptionist in a hospital, she takes the Metro to work every day, she spends her time between home and work, looks after her father and mother-in-laws and her 15-year-old son, whose ambition to be a chef she does her best to quash. She dreams of the time when her husband will return from Dubai and the two of them will once again put on the washing machine and take off their clothes and have sex (which she enjoys as much, and in which she is as active as him), with the noise of the machine covering for their groans of ecstasy.
But life has a strange way of intervening. One day she meets a young man at the Metro station, younger than her, an executive in a hotel who wears immaculately ironed trousers and shirts and elegant ties, and is quiet and sensible. They begin to talk, one thing leads to another and a friendship develops. They begin to travel on the Metro together, go occasionally to Barista for coffee for some gentle conversations and are initially just content with that. For Mrs Sharma, there’s no sense that she’s betraying her husband; after all, this is only a friendship and who would grudge a woman like her—she’s not cheap—some quality time with a friend, even perhaps some quality sex. But then Vineet, the young man, extends the hand of friendship towards her son Bobby, encourages him to take up the profession he is passionate about, and another sequence of events is set in place.