Tucked away in the heart of Allahabad, a secret awaits. A call boy, unseen and unheard, answers the silent pleas of the city. His room, a sanctuary of sorts, is filled with the scent of sweat and sex as he pleasures himself, his hand a poor substitute for the touch he craves. His body, toned and tanned, glistens with a sheen of sweat as he brings himself to the brink, his breath ragged, his heart pounding. With a final, guttural groan, he finds his release, his body convulsing as he spills his seed, a fleeting moment of satisfaction in his otherwise lonely existence.