The Beggar Gang
It was a hot morning, and I was sitting with my small dog Afrika by an open-air chai station in the Calcutta Maidan. We had arrived ten days before, but five were spent in the room due to some contaminated food I ate on my first lunch. Everything still baffled us – people’s clothing, face markings and jewelry, shops and touts, wandering cows and their excrement, holy trees and ancient shrines, political and Bollywood posters, plus the beggars of course, pestering me every inch of the way.
Recent Comments