“Grandma, were you ever lost?” Aarav asked.

She smiled. “Once. God helped me in a strange way that time.”

“Tell me,” he said, sitting closer.

“I had gone to Surat for work. By the time I finished, it was dark. I took a rickshaw toward my hotel.”

“What happened?”

“I’d forgotten the address.”

Aarav’s eyes went wide.

“The streets all looked the same. I walked and walked. Then I noticed the rickshaw driver was still there. Following me.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Very. I turned and asked him why.”

“What did he say?”

“‘You look lost, sister. I’ll stay close until you find your hotel.'”

Grandma paused, looking past Aarav for a moment, as if she could still see the street.

“I found it, finally. I thanked him. Offered him sweets from my bag.”

“Did he take them?”

“He did. Then he said something I never forgot.”

“What?”

“‘I have two daughters. One is your age. I couldn’t leave a woman alone at night.'”

Aarav went quiet.

“So… God sent him?”

Grandma touched his cheek gently.

“Maybe. Sometimes He doesn’t come with thunder or light, beta. Sometimes He comes wearing a driver’s faded shirt, asking nothing in return.”

Aarav looked down at his hands, thinking.

Outside, an auto rickshaw rattled past their gate, its small bell ringing once into the evening air.

Grandma didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to.