A chance encounter

Early the next morning, Aditya called a car and headed for the airport.

At seven, Mumbai airport was a chaotic jumble of travelers, auto-rickshaws, and taxis.

A long line stretched in front of the Air India check-in counter.

Aditya had no bulky luggage, just a suitcase. He joined the long line and inched forward with it.

Suddenly, a commotion nearby caught Aditya's attention.

A Chinese man in his forties, his face flushed red, was shouting in Chinese at a member of the airport ground staff. "I'm going to Dubai! The ticket says Dubai! She keeps saying I have to go to some counter!"

He waved his ticket in the air while the ground staff kept repeating, "Transfer counter, sir. You need stamp first."

As though the curry flavor were too strong, the Chinese man could not understand her and swore in frustration.

No one nearby helped. Some edged away; others glanced up before lowering their heads and continuing to queue.

Aditya stepped out of the line, walked over to the Chinese man, and said in Chinese, "Hello, there's nothing wrong with your ticket. This flight connects in Mumbai, so you need to get a stamp at the transfer counter first. Come with me. I'll take you there."

The man froze. "You speak Chinese?"

"A little. Come with me," Aditya said.

"Thank you, thank you so much," the man said, sounding delighted and surprised.

Aditya took him to the transfer counter on the right side of the hall. Once the clerk had stamped his ticket, he pointed him toward the boarding gates.

The man thanked him over and over, his words tumbling out incoherently. He even pulled a pack of Chinese cigarettes from his pocket and insisted on pressing it into Aditya's hands. Aditya declined. "Don't miss your flight. Go on."

After the man left, Aditya returned to the line. He had barely settled into place when someone behind him asked in broken English, "Excuse me... I also... same problem."

Aditya looked back in surprise.

It was another middle-aged man, wearing a light gray suit and carrying a black briefcase. He had a square face and a healthy complexion, but his forehead was covered in sweat.

Holding his ticket, he pointed first toward the boarding gates, then toward the counter, speaking haltingly in English. "Transfer? I go Dubai. But... she say... not here..."

Aditya shook his head and asked directly in Chinese, "Take your time. I understand Chinese. Are you going to Dubai too?"

Wang Changgui's eyes lit up. "You speak Chinese! Wonderful! I'm Chinese, and I was supposed to fly to Dubai, but that person at the counter keeps saying something about a transfer counter. I can't understand any of it. Could you help me check whether I bought the wrong ticket?"

Aditya took the ticket and looked it over. "You bought the right ticket. It isn't a direct flight from Mumbai. You need to get your transfer confirmed first. Come with me. It's that window over there. I'll talk to them for you."

Aditya took Wang Changgui to the transfer counter.

The staff member asked Wang Changgui for his flight details, then checked the departure time printed on his ticket.

The ground staff said everything was fine, stamped it, and reminded him that his boarding gate was in Zone B. Aditya translated this for Wang Changgui.

Wang Changgui looked as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He took a business card from his pocket, held it out, and said,

"Brother, thank you so much. Your Chinese is really good. Have you lived in China?"

"No, I've never been to China," Aditya answered with a smile.

Wang Changgui reached out and shook Aditya's hand firmly.

After a long while, Wang Changgui said, "I'm with the Hong Kong Shengchang International Trading Company. I came to India to explore the market, but with the language barrier, I'm like an idiot wherever I go. If you ever come to China, get in touch. I'll show you around personally."

"Oh, brother, what's your name? You don't look Indian to me," Wang Changgui asked.

"My name is Aditya. I'm just an Indian," Aditya said.

"You're different from the other Indians I've met. Well, I'd better go. Thank you, Aditya."

With that, Wang Changgui bowed.

"Take care, Old Wang," Aditya said, waving.

Already walking away, Wang Changgui looked back in disbelief. He gave Aditya a thumbs-up before leaving.

Aditya turned the business card over. Printed on it was "Wang Changgui," with the title of deputy general manager. Below were two addresses, one in Hong Kong and one in Shanghai.

Aditya put the card away and returned to the line.

Aditya had barely settled back into place when someone behind him spoke to him.

This time it was in English, in a woman's voice. "Hello, your Chinese is so fluent. Those two Chinese men were practically staring when they heard you speak it. Are you a Chinese major?"

Aditya turned around.

A beautiful girl stood a short distance behind him.

The girl had fair skin, slightly arched eyebrows, and blue eyes as bright as gemstones. A vermilion dot adorned her forehead, and a faint smile rested on her face. She wore dark trousers and a beige shirt, her long, wavy hair falling loosely behind her.

Aditya had never seen such a beautiful girl. A single glance completely captivated him.

She had an excellent figure, with full breasts and rounded, lifted hips-a classic high-caste beauty.

Aditya struggled to rein in his eyes, trying not to let them stray toward those towering peaks.

"Hello. I'm not a Chinese major. I just happen to know a little Chinese. When I saw those two Chinese men having trouble, I thought I'd try speaking it. I didn't expect to actually be able to help," Aditya said with a smile.

"True. Even Chinese majors at the University of Delhi don't speak it as well as you."

Her smile radiant, the girl walked up to Aditya without hesitation and introduced herself. "I'm Anjali, from Kerala."

"Aditya, from Varanasi," he replied in turn.

"Varanasi? You're from the holy city." Anjali sounded surprised. She nodded and said, "No wonder there's a scent of incense ash about you."

Aditya was thoroughly puzzled. "Incense ash? But I just changed my clothes today."

"Not that kind of incense ash," Anjali said with a laugh. "It's the sort of scent people who worship regularly have, like that feeling devout believers naturally carry. Ah... I can't really explain it. It's just a feeling. Anyway, I don't mean an actual smell."

Aditya could make neither head nor tail of what she was saying. He stared at the girl. Those two big arguments of hers were very big; whatever she said sounded quite reasonable.

"You still haven't told me. Aren't you a university student?" Anjali pressed.

"I dropped out," Aditya said, drawing his gaze back.

"You dropped out?" Anjali paused. "Which university?"

"Yes. The University of Lucknow. I was studying business accounting. I stopped in my first year."

"Why did you quit? What do you do now, then?"

"It's complicated, so I won't go into it. I run a textile factory now," Aditya said.

Anjali was visibly startled. She opened her mouth but made no sound, as though waiting for Aditya to suddenly laugh and say, "Fooled you. I'm joking."

But Aditya did not say that, although he looked like someone who would make that sort of joke.

"How old are you?" Anjali asked again.

"I'll turn nineteen later this year."

"You're running a textile factory at eighteen?" Anjali's voice rose involuntarily before she deliberately lowered it again. "Did your family put you up to it?"

"My family was in debt. I did a few other things first and paid it off. Now I've opened a textile factory in Kanpur, with over a hundred workers," Aditya said unhurriedly.

Anjali stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "You're pretty impressive. At nineteen, I was still worrying about finals in the United States, and you're already managing over a hundred people."

"You're not doing badly yourself. UCLA's computer science department isn't somewhere just anyone can get into," Aditya said, sincerely returning the compliment.

"How did you know I go to UCLA?" Anjali asked, her eyes widening.

"I guessed. You said you were studying in the United States while we were chatting. I noticed half a copy of Time sticking out of your bag, and your English is so good. Add that accent, and it had to be either the East Coast or the West Coast."

Anjali's smile grew even brighter. "You're quite observant. I study in California, at UCLA. Computer science. I'm in my third year."

"Now that's genuinely impressive," Aditya said.

Anjali made no attempt at modesty. Pouting, she said, "It's all right! I argued with my dad for three years before I got to go. He said girls had no future studying computer science and that I'd be better off staying in Kerala to help him."

"What does your dad do?"

"He's a minor civil servant. Handles the chamber of commerce side of things," Anjali said casually.

Aditya knew she was not telling the truth. He did not want to ask more, either. He could guess that her family was no ordinary one.

A girl from southern India who dared to fly to Dubai alone and was not afraid to chat with strange men-that confidence was not something an ordinary family could provide.

"What are you going to Dubai for?" Anjali asked.

"A connecting flight. To Israel."

"Israel?" Anjali frowned slightly. "That place isn't exactly peaceful right now."

"I know. I have some personal business to take care of," Aditya said.

Anjali watched him as though waiting for him to say more. Aditya did not, and she did not press him. She merely said, "Oh," then lowered her head to drink from her already-open bottle of Coke.

Before long, the boarding announcement sounded. The two rose at the same time without planning to.

"You're on this flight too?" Anjali asked.

"Yes." Aditya nodded.

"So am I." She smiled. "Then maybe we'll even get to sit together and keep chatting on the plane."

"That would be absolutely wonderful. May God Shiva bless us," Aditya said in an exaggerated tone.

The smile on Anjali's face grew even brighter.