The Indian Gauntlet
Arriving at my hotel I swore I would never venture back out onto the streets. Obviously, my wish was not someone else’s command, and venture out I did. It may have been safer inside but the excitement was outside and you couldn’t help but find the whole experience exhilarating. First you have to convince the gauntlet of rickshaw drivers that you really are equipped with the necessary appendages to walk to your destination. Then you are met with a chorus of “yes madames?” and “excuse me excuse mes” as people try to tempt you into their shop. The thing is that you cannot resist turning round even though you know better, heads are on some kind of swivel radar reaction, and you have to be iron willed and minus all reflexes to make it through the gauntlet without being snared. And then there is the begging which is everywhere. Little children pulling at your clothes calling “rupee, rupee”, rubbing their stomachs eyes as round as chapatis. Dirt smeared party dress clad little barefoot girls calling out “Hello chocolate”, “hello chewing gum”, as you become sweetness personified in a nice white wrapper. It’s such a guilt trip, but what can you do, the whole idea is not to encourage dependence upon the tourist, not to encourage begging and yet you’re weighed down by plastic bags full of carpets and pashminas and expensive jewellery. Sometimes it’s hard to even feel anything at all. You temporarily mislay your sense of humanity, and the sympathy vote is lost when the cute little child trails you for half a mile wrapped around your ankles, pulling on you clothes, calling out relentlessly, till the aggression in your voice begins to scare you and you force yourself to blink rapidly and remember this annoyance is actually a hungry child.
Tags: begging, Travel
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