There are two Indias doing a little tap dance around each other. The India of Manoj and Babli. The India of Banti and Babli. Deep in the Uttar Pradesh countryside, off the mustard-draped fields and the tomb of Bhuiyan Baba who wards off evil spirits, past the row of houses that were once mud and are fast becoming concrete, past the motorcycles and new satellite TV dishes, some suspicious activity is afoot.

In the darkness, with her phone on the silent mode, a girl is texting her lover, who has been waiting to hear from her across the same village. She writes her local Awadhi dialect, in the Roman script.

"Oh yes, a lot of girls send SMSs to boys now in our village... yes, boyfriend-girlfriend type, " 23-year-old Abdul Kalam of Kunaura village tells me the next day. Abdul is wearing a body-hugging blue T-shirt and jeans, and a bashful smile on his face.

"No no, I don't do all this. If my family finds out ..." he says.