Arjun got down from the auto-rickshaw in the narrow pink lanes of Jaipur’s old city. The sun had just set, and the famous Hawa Mahal glowed with golden lights in the distance. The warm evening air carried the sweet smell of jasmine flowers. Arjun was 24 years old, tall and handsome, but still shy when it came to women. He had come to Jaipur for a short solo trip to escape his boring life in Mumbai.

The haveli guesthouse was beautiful — an old heritage building with cool marble floors and traditional carvings. As soon as he entered, his eyes fell on a woman standing on the rooftop terrace above. She was arranging fresh white jasmine flowers in small pots.