The-World-Noticed-Us
At the fourth crossing, Dani stopped a woman walking down the street and asked if she knew the way to our guesthouse.
The woman understood us but struggled to answer in English.
She scrunched her face in concentration.
“One hundred meters. The building with… elephants.”
Dani thanked her, and we walked back the way we had come.
At the previous intersection stood an ornate building flanked by two marble elephants—the symbol of Jaipur.
We stepped through the gate into a quiet courtyard where an older man watered the driveway beside a pile of brooms and rakes. He looked at us the way someone looks at strangers who have accidentally wandered into their home.
Dani approached him uncertainly.
“Pandya Niwas?”
He shook his head and pointed across the street.
We followed. The sign hanging out front bore the wrong name, but we entered anyway.
The attendant greeted us at once.
“Welcome. My name is Raghov. I’ll be right with you.”
Then he turned his attention back to
Another woman stood at the counter in front of us. She sported cropped blonde hair, wore cargo pants and a t-shirt, and traveled by herself.
Raghav glanced between Dani and the other woman.
“You two look the same.”
The two exchanged uncertain looks.
Then he turned his attention back to the other woman and laughed.
“You are like a man. Look at you!”
Dani’s turn came.
“Is this Pandya Niwas?”
“I have just prepared your room. This way please.”
And he led us up some stairs. As we followed, he muttered one last time, almost to himself:
“Like a man.”
On the second floor, he opened our door, the air-conditioning whirring inside granting instant relief to the morning heat.
“I’ll leave you now. Come down if you need anything.”
And he turned to go.
“What guesthouse is this?”
I tried asking again.
“Is this Pandya Niwas?”
But Raghov had already left.
I sat on the bed then, feeling the air evaporate the sweat off my arms while Dani showered.
The bed was soft, the room quiet.
I turned my head to the daylight pouring through the window.
Below us, I saw them again: the two elephants—the symbol of Jaipur—shining pink in the morning sun.
~
That night, I ventured out by myself.
The man looked up from behind a computer. His cornflower shirt clung to him.
He didn’t offer his hand in exchange.
I took my own hand back, then gave him our route and date.
“Two tickets. Agra Fort to Varanasi. October tenth. 2AC.”
I grimaced.
“Please.”
He typed like every key had to be found again. His index finger hovered, hunted, and landed.
Click … click … clack.
“Yes, I could get you a train ticket”
He paused.
“But not today. I am small business. Government lets me make twenty bookings per day. I already made many. Come back tomorrow.”
I walked back to the Building With Elephants—the noise of the street ringing in my ears.
~
The next day, Dani came with me.
He nodded as I entered.
I slid him the folded scrap of paper I’d been carrying in my pocket with our itinerary written in cramped lines.
He entered it with the same two-finger patience and frowned at the screen.
“It’s … sold out.”
His English was crisp, each word placed carefully.
He kept working anyway.
An assistant approached him and whispered into his ear.
Dani heard the words.
“Jodhpur.”
The agent kept typing. Then he stopped.
“2AC is out. But I can get 3AC. Much less expensive. Same quality.”
He held out his fingers.
“Bunks three high.”
I set down my scrap of paper.
“And this reserves our bed?”
“Yes. This ticket has reservation. Guaranteed.” His eyes flicked toward Dani, then back to me.
I nodded.
“How much?”
He pulled out a calculator.
“Costs … five thousand seven hundred thirty-three rupees for both.”
“Five thousand—”
I stopped and looked at Dani. Then I tapped the number I’d written on the paper, the one I expected to pay.
He leaned forward then swung his monitor toward us.
“See.”
He pointed at the fare.
I looked at the website.
“Let’s leave.”
Dani didn’t argue.
~
Outside, a rickshaw pulled beside us.
“No.”
I put my hand up and kept walking.
“You’ll be back.” The driver said.
Dani turned.
“What?”
“My name is Shanti. It means ‘Slow and Careful.’ As you will find out, I always take my time, and I always do it the right way.
“When you’re ready, I’ll still be here.”
His final words sounded in my ear as we left.
Dani and I had first walked these streets to the travel agent at dawn, when every storefront was shuttered and the roads stood empty.
Now Jaipur had awakened.
Pink arcades stretched for miles.
Shutters rattled upward.
Horns drowned out conversation.
Merchants shouted.
We made it barely a block before turning around.
Shanti was still waiting.
As we drove, he began to talk.
“Tell me, what hotel are you staying?”
“I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s a large, pink guest house on Nahargarh Road.”
“Nahargarh? The one with the elephants?”
“Yes, well, across from the building with elephants. Shanti, you impress me. You know Jaipur as well as you claim.”
He smiled.
“Where are you from?”
Dani answered first.
“America. San Francisco.”
“Yes! I was a taxi driver in San Francisco for ten years. Now I drive a rickshaw everywhere: Jaipur, Delhi, everywhere. I know everything in these places.
“And where were you before Jaipur?”
I leaned forward.
“Well, we first landed in Delhi. Then Udaipur and Jaipur for a week.”
“Delhi to Udaipur to Jaipur? No. No, no. You did this in all the wrong order.”
He gave us the route he would have taken: Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Udaipur, Pushkar, Jaipur.
“This path is best. I know because I drive a rickshaw in all these places.”
Dani jumped in.
“That would have been a wonderful trip.”
“Of course. Now tell me. Where will you go after Jaipur?”
“Agr—”
“Agra! What is there in Agra but the Taj Mahal? The Taj Mahal is a tomb. Why does everyone go there? I don’t understand. Agra is a bad place full of liars and cheaters. You can’t trust anyone there. I drive everywhere. I know.
“Please.
“DON’T GO TO AGRA!”
Then he pulled the rickshaw to the curb.
~
Back at the Building With Elephants, Dani peeled the paper from my hand and spread it across the bed.
“Did you see what he showed us?”
”Uh, the fake website?”
“No. Jodhpur.”
I didn’t follow.
She searched again, this time from the train’s origin station instead of Agra.
A different list appeared.
Then she stopped.
“These all say ‘RAC.’ What’s that?”
We researched it together on the bedspread.
“Reserved Against Cancellation.”
I thought back to the agent.
“This ticket has reservation. Guaranteed.”
He never actually promised us a bed.
She bought the tickets in the glow of her phone.
In the bed next to her, I watched the fan chopping through the humidity.
I tossed.
And I turned.
And at some point, I woke to silence.
The fan had stopped. The air conditioner, too.
The room was completely dark.
Outside, the city had gone quiet.
I lay still for a moment, listening.
Then I noticed my mouth. It was dry enough that my tongue stuck to it.
I reached for the water beside the bed.
Empty.
I checked my backpack.
Nothing.
Dani’s bag.
Nothing.
I got up.
Three flights of stairs separated us from the reception desk.
I stood at the top of the stairwell in the darkness, looking down.
Raghav was asleep on the couch below.
I started down.
Each step seemed to take forever.
Raghav woke when he heard me.
“Water.”
Even the word scraped my throat.
He disappeared into the back room and returned with three bottles.
I opened one and drank it before I even turned around.
“Thank you.”
Back upstairs, I finished half the second bottle and handed the rest to Dani.
I crawled into bed.
Somewhere beside me, the air conditioner came back to life.
I fell asleep to its whirring.
~
Agra had reached the greatest number of tourists allowed by Lord Vishnu.
We had arrived at the exact moment the limit was reached.
The gods called a hearing.
We stood before them while they argued about whether Agra could admit another tourist without violating Hindu law.
Somehow, they chose us to decide.
Somehow, we agreed.
Agra could accept more tourists.
The decision became law.
Then we discovered “the Circle.”
It was everywhere.
It moved through the streets and between the shops. It weakened tourists until they surrendered to every merchant and rickshaw driver they encountered.
Someone said the word.
I plugged my ears.
It was already too late.
~
I woke bundled beneath the blankets, my shirt soaked with sweat.
I checked my forehead.
The fever had broken.
Dani was awake beside me.
I wiped the sweat from my face.
“I had a crazy dream.”
She looked over.
“Something about cults, gods, and deceit in Agra.”
Dani smiled.
“Agra’s tomorrow.
“Let’s enjoy our last day in Jaipur first.”