"Wow! Check it out!" Alfred exclaimed as he walked in front of his closely-knit group. Arthur, Francis, Ivan, and Matthew also admired the exotic scenery of Delhi. "Do you think there's a burger place around here?"
"I doubt it," Matthew said. "Looks like they're selling fritters over in that vendor. It smells good."
"Too spicy," Arthur said, throwing his hand in the air in disapproval. "I prefer tea. I bet there is a lot of tea here in India."
"I just remembered I lost my vodka when we fell from the plane," Ivan said, totally out of context.
"Eh, who needs it?" Alfred disagreed nonchalantly. "Hopefully there is a soda joint around here if there isn't a burger place! I'm starving!"
Meanwhile, the people in the streets looked at the strange, white men as they walked down the street. Arthur looked around rapidly until a well-dress man in a white suit caught his eye. The man was staring at Alfred, Arthur, Francis, Ivan, and Matthew with the same kind of awe as everyone else did. The man wore glasses that framed his black eyes, his hair was raven black, and skin was a warm, dark tan. His face was rather chiseled, and he had a bushy mustache to complete his old-fashioned look. Arthur was the first to notice the man approach him, and he was just another Indian who could speak English—unlike Bandhu's speech, his was clear and audible, and he spoke with an Indian accent with an English twang.
"Hello, strangers," he said, approaching the Englishman in particular. His lively green eyes stared at the well-dressed man indefinitely.
"Hello, fine sir," he replied as the man in white extended his hand cordially. Arthur shook it, hearing him introduce himself.
"I am Sadar Chowdry, Prime Minister and Advisor to His Royal Highness the Maharaja," he said in a friendly manner. "You seem lost, and it caught my attention just moments ago."
"Oh, I am Arthur Kirkland, college student from King's College in London," he replied. "We…were lost. We arrived here yesterday."
"London?" Sadar questioned, raising an eyebrow curiously. "I studied at Oxford. Are…your friends here from England as well?"
"No, in fact we were supposed to go to China to study the artifacts recently unearthed near the Yangtze River by Walter Meyer," Arthur said. "Instead, our plane ran out of gas and we crash-landed here. We escaped a plane on a lifeboat, and we were adrift on it with the rapids carrying us to a village."
"Really?" Sadar asked, his voice and facial expression full of concern. "My, that must explain why your clothes are so dirty. No offense."
"None taken," Alfred said, stepping forward to introduce himself. "I'm Alfred Jones. Great to meet you. I'm from GeorgeWashingtonUniversity in Washington, DC. That's in America, of course." He pulled Matthew by the collar and brought him forward, placing an arm around his shoulder. "This is my friend Matthew Williams, and he's from the same college as me."
"It's nice to meet all of you. Who are the other two?" Sadar questioned with a smile. Unlike Bandhu, Sadar had white, perfectly aligned teeth that shone whenever he bore a grin. Francis pushed through everybody and looked at Sadar, flaunting himself in an effeminate manner.
"I am Francis Bonnefoy, and I am from the University of Paris, monsieur," the Frenchman said, fluffing his shoulder-length blond hair and looking at him with an odd sense of seduction in his blue eyes.
"I am Ivan from St. PetersburgUniversity," the Russian said, walking behind Francis to introduce himself to the stranger. Sandar smiled at all of them and began walking in front of Alfred as if he were to lead them.
"Walk with me. I'll show you around Delhi," he offered. "Maybe later, you will dine in style with the Maharaja himself!"
They began their stroll, but nevertheless, people continued to stare at the group of men with the Prime Minister as they walked through the streets. Alfred, famished and deprived from his usual burger-fries-soda meal, needed to know where to get a fix.
"Hey, Prime Minister," he said, catching Sandar's attention. "Where can I get a burger or soda around here?" The man shook his head.
"No, not in this part of India," Sandar replied. "We are all Hindu here."
"What does that have to with enjoying a nice burger?" Alfred asked, confused by his statement.
"We do not eat meat here," the man said with a sigh.
"How come? Is it against your religion?" the American asked.
"Yes, it is," the Prime Minister replied as a few people with pushcarts dragged their good along. "In fact, the Maharaja banned meat from his palace here in Delhi."
"Really?" Arthur wondered, cutting in and walking beside him. "What particular belief prohibits the consumption of meat?"
"Reincarnation," Sadar said as they continued walking. "Souls can manifest in animals or people—it is very simple. A soul that has done bad in one lifetime will become an animal or insect in the next. However, if they do a lot of good, they will become something higher. A poor person who does good for his village will become a raja in his next life. It all ends once spiritual purity is reached, and the soul lives with the gods forever."
"What an abstract theory," Arthur said, drawn further into the conversation. "Say, tell us more about the Maharaja."
"He is a good man," Sadar said with a proud smile. "He's always very hospitable, treating guests as if they were in his class. He has done a lot of good for India, and he is, after all, the king of this land."
"Does he have a wife?" Ivan asked, joining the discussion.
"He did, but she died once the little rajkumari was born," Sadar said with a grave tone of voice.
"What is…that word you said?" Alfred asked, looking at him strangely as they approached the town center. Sadar sat down on a bench with the men standing around him. Arthur sat next to the prime minister, listening to him answer Alfred's question.
"Her Royal Highness Rajkumari Amisha Mani of Delhi," he said. "She is his daughter, the princess of India." Francis sighed in a romantic fashion and touched his forehead lightly.
"Ah. I bet she is trés belle!" the Frenchman said. Knowing exactly what he meant, Sadar smiled and leaned back on the bench, continuing to grin.
"You have no idea," he told the young men. "She is the apple of our eye. It's so hard to describe how…magnificent and regal she is."
"She is a princess, Prime Minister," Francis said. "She must be beautiful!"
"You will see her later," Sadar said, standing up from the bench to look at the men. "I invite you as guests to stay in the palace of Delhi, and to attend tonight's dinner party. The Maharaja will love to have unexpected guests. After all, he has over fifty servants in his palace."
"FIFTY?" Alfred exclaimed. "Really? How big is the palace? Is it huge?"
"Yes, it covers about an acre, but the Maharaja's property totals seven acres," Sadar said. "Will you all join us?"
"Will we?" Alfred said with excitement, taking his hand and shaking it rapidly. "Yeah! Hell yeah!"
"Well, for the time being, I will continue to stroll around Delhi to show you the sights, and maybe get you some new clothes for tonight's party," Sadar said, his tone turning more calmer and somewhat degrading as he spoke of their soiled clothing. "Let's go!"