Ticket to India by N. H. Senzai Page A

be here,” she muttered. She glanced at her memory map, looking confused.
    Maya wondered uncomfortably how accurate Naniamma ’s memory map was, plus how much had changed in the decades since her grandmother had been gone.
    â€œExcuse me,” said Zara, taking charge as she called out to a man exiting a television repair shop. “Can you tell us where the old Victorian fountain is?”
    â€œIt was torn down years ago, miss,” said the man. “They built that hotel over it.”
    â€œUh, thanks,” said Zara. The man nodded and walked on.
    â€œOh, no,” muttered Maya, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She looked at her grandmother, who was staring from the hotel down to her map, looking lost. We need to help, she thought. We promised to find the chest for her, to get the ring for Nanabba . Even Zara looked at a loss for words. Without thinking twice, Maya reached into her backpack and pulled out the guidebook. “ Naniamma ,” she said, “how about we try to match the landmarks in your memory map to a more current map of the area?”
    Zara gave Maya a rare appreciative smile. “That’s an awesome idea.”
    â€œYes,” said Naniamma , the lines around her mouth easing. “That would be very helpful, jaan .”
    Zara reached for the guidebook, but Maya’s finger tightened around its edges. “No,” said Maya, surprising them both. “I’ll navigate.”
    Zara paused, about to say something, but stopped. She stared at Maya, as if seeing her for the first time. “Okay, find Lahore Gate; that’s where we came in.”
    Maya grabbed a colored pencil, forest green, symbolizing good luck, and flipped to a map of Old Delhi. The trio bent over the book, poring over the streets and alleys until Maya pointed out the gate’s location and circled it.
    â€œWhere did you say your uncle’s house was?” asked Zara.
    â€œBehind Sunehri Masjid,” replied her grandmother.
    Maya examined the map key. “Sunehri Mosque is number seven on the map.”
    â€œThere,” Zara pointed out a second later. Maya ­circled it. “But the old Victorian fountain isn’t on the map,” Zara added with a frown.
    â€œIt’s okay.” Maya grinned with growing confidence. “We just need to find another landmark to orient ourselves. We can trace a route to the mosque from there.”
    â€œWe’ll need to backtrack a bit,” said Zara, turning them around toward the gate.
    â€œI remember this temple,” said Naniamma excitedly, after they had walked a few blocks. She paused within a cloud of smoky-sweet incense wafting from the doorway of a Hindu temple.
    Maya stared into the vast courtyard, where half a dozen statues stood, dressed in silks and draped with garlands of marigold and jasmine. A bright blue figure at the center caught her attention. “Which god is that?”
    â€œLord Rama,” said Naniamma . “Beside him is his wife Sita, who was kidnapped by a demon king.”
    â€œAnd that one?” said Maya, pointing at a statue that was part man, part ape.
    â€œHmmm,” mused Naniamma , peering past the priests in loincloths chanting over worshippers. “Yes, yes, that’s Lord Hanuman—he helped free Sita.”
    â€œThis is Ram Temple,” said Zara, reading the sign hanging farther down.
    â€œIt’s here,” said Maya, pointing to where the temple was listed on the map. She drew a strong green line from the temple to Sunehri Mosque.
    â€œGood job, girls,” said Naniamma . “I don’t know how I would have done this without you.”
    The girls glanced at each other, momentarily taken aback. Realization dawned that somehow, it seemed predestined that they come together. Each had a role to play in finding Naniamma ’s treasure.
    â€œLet’s go,” said Zara, giving Maya the nod to navigate.
    Through a maze of narrow, congested