I was accosted by a whole crowd of Sikhs outside the temple who stood around giggling as a small boy, with arms much stronger than his skinny frame let on, tied my head scarf on so tight I worried I may have to surgically remove it after.
Gap-toothed rickshaw driver to the rescue! He lead us out into the street next to his chugging steed “No worry.” He told us through his festive grin. He motioned to the boys “You my brother. You my brother. You my brother.” Then with a pat on my shoulder “You my sister. Come. I find you room.”