Once in India Thistle must find a way to contact Mr. Kadam. She knows that somewhere in the hectic city of Mumbai is a shop owner who is friends with the man. She had seen it. Of course, that particular event might not have happened yet. But she has to try.
She has a grand total of twenty dollars in her pocket. I'm screwed if I don't get a hold of him or one of my tigers soon, she thinks.
Thistle wanders the bustling streets of the city, seeking a small shop specializing in old texts. The city is strange and wonderful. The sights, the sounds, the smells, everything. The smell of curry permeates the air. All types of people in all kinds of dress swarm in the streets. She is used to the craziness of city life, but she has never seen anything like this before. If she can ever find the shop in this mess, she won't end up starving in an ally or something. That is, if she can convince the man to help her find Mr. Kadam.
Finally, hours later and just before closing, Thistle finds the shop. It's exactly like she saw in her vision. The shelves are packed with hundreds of old books, scrolls, anything with words on it. She turns the corner around one of the bookshelf and finds herself face-to-face with the shop owner.
"S-sir!" she stammers.
He adjusts his spectacles. "Yes?" His accent is strong, but his pronunciation is good.
"I need you to help me. I have to contact Mr. Kadam. Please, it is very, very, important." She hears the sound of the door opening as another person enters the shop.
"I can't," he says. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone anything about him. Sorry, sundara."
"Please, you can trust me! I can show you!" She reaches out and grabs one of his hands in both of hers. She closes her eyes and says "Your name is Dulal. Your mother loved old books. This used to be your fathers shop. They met here. But she died. A long time ago, when you were small."
She opens her eyes again and neither of them speaks for a moment. He slowly takes back his hand. "I am sorry. I still cannot tell you. I made a promise." He begins to walk away.
"Sir! Please! I have nothing. I need him." Her voice breaks at the end when she sees him solemnly shaking his head. She flees from the store. Outside she pushes against the dissipating crowds and sinks against a nearby wall. She holds her head in her hands and begins to sob.
"Excuse me," a man says. "But I'd like to offer you a job."