We met in Paris of all places. It was an unlikely location for such an encounter. My wife and I had spent the day at the small chateau which had belonged to Napoleon’s empress Josephine, at Reuilly-Malmaison outside Paris, and were traveling back by public bus to our hotel in the centre of the city. The bus was crowded with tired commuters, browsing desultorily through creased newspapers or dozing uneasily. At one of the stops, a young man, obviously from the subcontinent, climbed in at the far end. He spotted us, and his eyes brightened with recognition. Within seconds he jostled his way through the packed strap-hanging passengers until he reached us.