The bohemian tourist sat down in one of the cafe’s perfectly-modern couches. Her hair was in a rubber-banded ponytail. Her maroon dress carried the subtle floral print of a fashionable traveler.

For the record, I would like to state the following: my decision to help her was unaffected by her elegant height or blonde Dutch hair.

She had just asked an attendant where the nearest metro station was. He didn’t know, so I pointed out the Central Secretariat stop on her map.

As we spoke briefly, she expressed surprise at how good my English was.

I guess I do look Indian. And I am in India. And many Indians don’t speak fluent English.

But still…