unique or memorable beggars or handouts

cedar

I'm just curious about the experiences of other trvelers to India. Does it stick in your mind the first time someone hit on you or was there a particularly striking person or group or circumstances? Did you go through some mental or ethical gyrations at the time or later?

First time someone asked me for baksheesh was outside the ashram of Sai Baba. It was a group of 3 or 4. I was totally unprepared, but the driver was ready. I learned from him to carry some 5 or 10 rupee notes in my shirt pocket after that. Of course it became a common occurence, but something I've often thought about since. Share your thoughts/experiences?

thnx - cedar

jjwoodee

The most vivid image in my mind is awaiting a train from Bombay to Delhi. I had been in India for quite some time, so I was getting used to all the dirtiness, grime, and begging in public areas. However, a small boy wearing only shorts and shirtless, worn flip flops for shoes, walked up to me silently. The boy was gripping the handle of a steel bucket bucket between his teeth, I'm sure with the after taste of the bucket's metal in his mouth. What was so unusual is that he had no arms--I was so dumbfounded. I wanted to take his photo but the boy pressed on, not wanting to wait for me to gather my thoughts and dig for my camera.

Sometimes you miss the best moments to take a telling photograph.

GreenWitch

When we went to the Taj Mahal there were a group of young boys selling Taj Mahal snowstorm keyrings (what an odd thing to even manufacture). We really didn't want any for a number of reasons but chatted and laughed with the boys (ranging from approx 3 - 10 years old) as we walked the last kilometer to the entrance gates. The boys introduced themselves with their 'English' names and told us they'd wait until we came out, just in case we wanted to buy keyrings.

We spent a few hours looking around the buildings and gardens and then emerged to find that the boys were still waiting. They walked with us back to the car park, still chatting and laughing. I decided that despite not wanting any keyrings, the kids really ought to be rewarded for being such NICE and not pushy human beings. They didn't ask for money or food even once.

I didn't have any small change with me (I think I needed something like 120 rupees for what I had decided to buy), I only had a 500 rupee note. The oldest boy assured me that he could find another trader to change it (hubby by this time was practically kicking me and telling me not to be stupid...but as I said to him...what's 500 rupees to me? If he never comes back then I'll have lost less than I would worry about losing down the back of a chair). Something about the boy made me sure that he WOULD come back....so I waited.

Sure enough, 10 minutes passed and the boy came running back with a huge smile on his face. Instead of handing me my change from what I had bought from him he handed me the whole 500 rupees in smaller notes and coins and told me that I could pay him now.

I gave him 450 rupees, somehow it seemed rude to allow him to go and get change and then give him all of the money....rather a waste of his time.

Yes there are points against buying from these child traders (these ones openly told us that their parents dropped them off there in the morning and picked them up at night) BUT in my opinion, good old fashioned HONESTY should ALWAYS be rewarded.

A trick employed by beggars/traders to encourage being rewarded...maybe, but a good lesson all the same.

Aishah

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"Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards."

Nick-H

Five and a half years dormant thread!

Yes, there are one or two that I won't forget, this one especially...

Actually, she wasn't a beggar; at least she never asked me for money, not at all. She was not dressed in any typically Tamil way, and wore jewellery that would have been unusual for a Tamil girl. It was, for want of a better word, more ethnic, of copper or brass. I knew a lot less then than the small amount I know about such things now, but she might have been tribal, perhaps belonging to one of the families that come to Chennai to sell stuff on the street.

I saw her three times, and the first time, she rushed up to me and complimented me on my local dress. After the second time we had chatted, I rather hoped I might come across her again, and wondered about giving her money. She was obviously poor, but not so poor she could not wear some ornaments, and I dreaded hurting her dignity.

The third time I met her, she still did not ask for any money --- she asked for chocolate. So I asked if I could give her money to buy chocolate for herself, and she said, "Yes, please!". She spoke English pretty well.

I was already aware of the going rate for beggars (Rs5 or so). I never regarded this girl as a beggar, and had determined that, if she gave me the opportunity, I would give something that might make a difference; at least buy some new clothes or something.

I gave her Rs500. She threw her arms around me and kissed me. I explained that I had to go, and her eyes filled with tears.

I never saw her again --- but have often wondered.

Looking back now, I should have been more practical; found out more about her, her education, if she would have gone to college if the money was available, whatever. Heck... maybe I should have married her! Maybe I should have kissed her: it was, after all, in a manner of speaking, our third date!

I hope that somewhere, she is well and happy.

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karuna

After reading your story Nick I think something must have got in my eye. The screen has gone all blurry.

Mine I've written about before, somewhere else on the interweb. It was a boy of about 9 or 10 in Pushkar selling tin anklets. After me repeatedly saying no and getting quite exasperated, he introduced himself and sat down with us for a chat. He asked me what year in school I was and I said I was too old for school. He asked me how much it costs to fly to India from the UK and when I told him his eyes nearly exploded out of his face. A nearby tourist piped up something about how "they" just "don't get it, do they? You spend all your money getting here, you don't have anything for their stupid trinkets, we just want to be left alone" or something like that.

I asked the boy where his mother was and he said at home, he was alone. Then I asked him what he wanted to do when he grew up. He didn't know, and I said maybe he could come to England to sell his anklets and be a businessman. He looked at the floor and said he didn't think he would ever come to England. I said don't you like selling the jewellery?, and he said no.

I never did buy anything from him, and after some distraction or other I noticed him speaking with another couple some way away, and I had not even noticed he had gone. He wasn't even particularly poor looking- very neat hair and reasonable clothes- but I still feel uncomfortable thinking about it.

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Nick-H

Poor kid. Child labour really, and we see so much of it, with families selling stuff.

skk

I was on the overpass in Mahalaxmi, Mumbai overlooking the Dhobi Ghat and videotaping the clothes washing scene below when I heard a female voice in a totally British accent say: "Would you like to buy some postcards, sir?"

It totally threw me so I turned round and it was a young Indian woman, clearly Indian by features and skin tone and really very very good looking.

I was speechless for a moment as I tried to grok the accent, the fluency in English, the economic circumstance, features combination and would have loved to have talked more, but my wife was there and even more important so was my sis, so I bought a couple of cards ( no recollection of what I paid ) and, as they say in the Brit tabloids, made my excuses and left.

-skk

Kingstonian

It's six months since my brief visit to India, and a lot of memories have inevitably faded, but Greenwitch's story reminds me of a similar experience in Sarnath, over a couple of small Buddhas for my neices.

But the one who's face is still in my memory is the little girl turning cartwheels in the Delhi traffic, looked about 4, moved like a 6 year old, with the dead eyes.

Hal

It was my first evening in India, and I was trying to find my way back to my hotel from Paradise in Hyderabad. I was quite obviously lost in some back streets, looking at the map in Lonely Planet, which didn't really show the sort of detail I needed.

Two boys, about 12 years old approached and gave me directions. We chatted for a bit and they asked me about my home country and my job and told me about their school and families. I walked on. Things started to look familiar and I knew I was on the right track. A few minutes later a moped pulled up beside me - it was the two boys again.

"Hop on!" they said, and throwing caution to the wind, I did. We went back to my hotel and kept on going, along the road around Hussain Sagar lake while the boys called out the local sights and monuments.

Back at the hotel some time later I offered them Rs 100 for their impromptu tour. They refused with a smile, waved and rode off into the night.

edwardseco

Hello hippie brother, I am in genuine and contrite need.

The only English the 90 year old woman in Rishikish knew. I thought it worthwhile..

PeakXV

The uncanny ability of a leper to scan, spot & then maneuver (usually lobster/chimp-like)across the polluted road towards a preferred & potential donor - all within the time a traffic light takes to change colors can be heart-wrenching, shocking & very sobering to the unsuspecting passenger daydreaming in the back of a taxi .... and that's just one of many obligatory daily encounters that add to the awe & bewilderment of the Indian experience.

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What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us.
~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

Don't go to India ~ Pre-trip Warnings & Misconceptions?

edwardseco

My wife boils over it but when you see such professionalism even in begging you have to reward it. I have been told a story for an hour that my rational mind knew was manufactured. But, it had such a romantic atmosphere to it that it was worth paying for..

wonderwomanusa

In 1989, I was in a small mountain town, just standing in the middle of the market trying to decide what to do next, when I was approached by an old man in rags that had once been a military uniform.

"Memsahib," he said (getting my attention, because by then every other Indian in the country had called me "madam"), I was a solder and have such a little pension; can you help me.

He was so polite and respectful and dignified about it that I didn't hesitate to hand him 20 rupees, which was a lot more than it is now (and was what was in my pocket).

I had, in the 70s, met many old soldiers and had heard some wonderful stories from them, so I hope the rupees I gave him were adequate payment for them.

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The map is not the territory. --Alfred Korzybski