Read Follow the Elephant for Free Online Page A

seen with your own eyes had to be real. But how could a man levitate in the air with no wires or tricks?
    Ben looked at his grandmother. Despite the holes in her hat, perspiration was glistening on her cheeks and around her neck. Her lipstick had melted and was running into the lines around her mouth. Sweat stung his own eyes. He checked the thermometer that he had put on his daypack. Forty-one degrees! They were all cooking.
    Madhu said, “Next you must be watching one of our cobra charmers.”
    Cobras! Ben forgot the heat. This place was unreal.
    A man wearing a high turban and ballooning striped pants took his place just a few metres below them. He carried a short flute and a large woven basket. The man placed the basket on the ground, opened the lid and began to play a reedy tune, dipping the flute toward the open basket, then swirling it up to the sky. Slowly, a large black and yellow cobra with a frilled hood emerged from the basket. The snake wove higher and higher, rising closer to the flute. The crowd gasped and when the cobra struck out at the flute player Gran shrieked and clutched Ben.
    She was breathing fast and her face was ashen. “I can’t stay. Take me away.”
    “Do not worry,” said Madhu. “We are safe up here, Norah memsahib. Hold my arm.”
    Ben couldn’t move his eyes from the scene below. Weaving in time to the music, the snake twisted and lunged toward the crowd. They were close enough for Ben to see the flick of its forked tongue, and this time he remembered to take a photograph.
    Gran screamed. “
Get me away from here. Please!
” She turned her face and drooped against Madhu’s arm.
    “He’s not finished yet, he’s doing more. Let’s stay,” Ben whispered.
    “We must be taking your grandmother out of the heat. Come.” Madhu and Padam stood on either side of Gran, each of them holding an arm, and almost hoisted her down the stairs.
    Ben desperately wanted to see the rest of the act. He’d only ever seen snakes in zoos, where they just lay around in a display case without moving. But it
was
hot. His hair was dripping wet under his cap and his legs were sweating in his jeans. His mother had been right when she told him he should buy shorts. He’d noticed that most Indian men, including Padam and Madhu, wore cotton shorts. Reluctantly, he followed to join the others in the shade by a stone fountain.
    Gran was sitting down, mopping her face. “I’m sorry I made a fuss,” she said. “Snakes are the one thing I’m deathly scared of.”
    Madhu said, “You must not worry. We are all different. I can see that Norah memsahib loves marble and precious stones and Ben sahib prefers the cleverness of our magicians and our snake charmers.”
    Ben stood by himself, trying to understand what he’d seen. There was an expression, “seeing is believing.” He knew what he’d seen with his own eyes. Did that mean he believed a man could levitate and a snake could be made to dance to music? In Canada people would laugh at these things. But this was India, and he was no longer sure what to believe.
    After a cold drink Gran said she felt better and would like to explore the market across the street.
    “This is called the Chandni Chowk,” Madhu told them. “It is said that anything stolen in New Delhi turns up here within twenty-four hours.”
    Padam rushed to explain. “You must not think ill of our country. Not everything is stolen.” He waved his hands in the air. “My goody-goodness it is not.”
    Ben had never seen such a crush of humanity in his life. Streams of men and women brushed past them on the road in both directions. On either side, stalls were piled with radios, television sets, carpets and leather suitcases. Counters were laden with gold jewellery, stone pots, brass statues; further along were rows of coloured powders and sacks of chilies and lentils. The air smelled of a confusing blend of sharp spices, cooked food and body sweat, his own included.
    Then, without warning,