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can fit into the courtyard.”
    “Do Muslims really pray five times a day?” Ben asked.
    “Indeed, they do try wherever they are,” Padam answered. “But only men can go inside the mosque. See those women on the street wearing black robes? They are Muslim women. See how their heads and faces are covered? It is to be protecting the modesty of the Muslim women.”
    “I thought people in India were all Hindus,” Ben said.
    “Oh my no, we have a mixed curry of religions here in India! Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jews and Christians.” Padam’s grin was so wide that Ben discovered there were still three teeth left in his mouth.
    Huge mosques, muezzins calling five times a day, worshippers walking with elephants down the streets. Religion was everywhere in India.
    Madhu stopped the taxi beside a red stone wall. “We are here now at the Red Fort which is called ‘red’ because of the colour of the stone used to build it.”
    Along with a stream of tourists, the four of them went through the tall gate into a courtyard with a large lotus-shaped pool. “Come now,” Madhu said. “You must see where water used to flow in a river of marble past the private rooms of Emperor Shah Jahan’s wives.”
    “Did you say wives?” Gran asked.
    “Only four, Norah memsahib. Oo la la!” said Padam, his shoulders shaking with squeaky laughter.
    This made Gran and Madhu laugh. In spite of himself, Ben laughed too.
    Gran kept turning around to watch the Indian women walking beside them. “All those women in their colourful saris! They’re like brilliant butterflies weaving in and out of the crowd,” she said.
    “Hindu women look truly beautiful in their saris,” Madhu answered. “Come now and let me show you where the fort’s walls are covered in precious jewels in designs of birds and flowers.”
    Ben followed behind. Women like butterflies? Precious jewels? This was supposed to be a fort. Didn’t they fight battles in forts?
    “It’s so peaceful here. I could stay forever if it wasn’t so hot,” Gran said.
    Too peaceful. Too boring. Ben felt like telling his grandmother: You stay. I’m going back to Canada. The oohs and ahhs she kept making were what you’d expect travelling with an old lady in a droopy skirt and a hat with holes in it. If he could think of a way to dump her and go off on his own, he just might. Ben looked up to see Madhu signalling him.
    “Come with us now to the viewing balcony to see the magicians,” Madhu said, leading them up a short flight of stairs.
    Magicians. That was more like it. He’d stick around for a while.
    Tourists had gathered in the full sun on the low balcony to see the show. Below the balcony a man lay on the grass with the magician standing over him. Slowly, with each lift of the magician’s wand, the man began to rise off the grass. Higher and higher, as though on an invisible bed, he floated in the air. He wobbled a bit, and then, seemingly in a trance, steadied, suspended almost two metres off the ground.
    “Ohh,” breathed the crowd.
    That was a cool trick. Was the man held up with ropes or were mirrors hiding some kind of support? As if in answer to the questions in Ben’s head, the magician began to sweep the wand over, above and below the levitating man to show there were no ropes or trick boxes. Ben joined the crowd as it burst into applause. The magician bowed, waited for people to throw down coins, and then waved his wand to bring the man’s body slowly back down to the ground.
    The man sat up, shook himself as though coming out of a dream, then stood and began to pick up coins.
    “Can you believe what we just saw, Gran!” Ben said. “This is more like it. I was so amazed I forgot to take pictures.”
    “It’s got to be a trick, but a darn good one,” Gran said, handing Ben some coins to throw down.
    “Tut-tut. It was no trick, Norah memsahib,” interjected Padam. “Never must you be saying you don’t believe in magic.”
    Ben wondered. Something you’d