The stainless-steel doors looked modern and out-of-place against the building’s tired-looking facade.

A sheet of pink printer paper taped to one of them.

Government of India.

Dani pulled them open, and we walked into the trap.

~

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust.

The office consisted of a large room with white walls and salt-and-pepper linoleum flooring of the sort found in restrooms everywhere. A stairway in the back led upstairs, and an imitation-wood desk sat at one corner.

Air-conditioners created a pleasant breeze against the stagnate outside heat.

Four men lounged on a green couch pushed against the wall.

Our driver stood as we entered, and gave the man at the desk our hundred rupees.

He handed our hundred-rupee banknote to one of his workers, and they all scattered up the stairs.

“Please, take a seat. Wait.”

His voice sounded soft.

Kind.

Practiced.

“My men will find your change. In the meantime, how long will you be spending in Delhi, and where are you going next?”

“How long will you be in Delhi?”

“A few days.”

“And after Delhi?”

“Agra.”

“Then Varanasi?”

We didn’t answer.

He smiled.

“Some trains are for women, some are for men, and some trains are for tourists. You are American tourists. Even if you have tickets, you can’t get on any train that you want. Here. Let me see your tickets. I can change them to approved, ‘Foreign Tourist Quota’ trains.” And he reached out his hands.

Dani pulled away.

“Please, can you give us the change? We want our change.”

“My employees are looking. Please, sit. Would you like some chai while you wait?”

He picked up the phone, but we stopped him again. This time, she spoke with force.

“Give us our money. Now!”

He looked at his men. Then at us. His eyes glancing casually to the tickets in her hand.

He looked at his men.

Then at us.

His eyes dropped to the tickets in Dani’s hand.

He stood and dug into the pockets of his gray slacks.

“There!”

He pulled a crumpled fifty and twenty from his pocket and threw them onto the table.

“Keep the change.”

Then he shoved us into the white blaze of Delhi’s heat.

It was the first honest thing anyone had said all day.