Living in Delhi can be quite an eye opener.
We were walking home from IIT today talking about the injustice we had just been subjected to.
“Complete idiots!”, ranted Jacob.
“mmm”, I agreed.
In short, it isn’t easy getting things done here if you don’t go about it the right way. At the moment we’re trying to register ourselves with the FRRO (foreign regional registration office), about 6 weeks too late. So for each day we have to pay a fine of 30 rupees. We have to bring them documents from IIT saying that we live there (even thought we don’t), obviously this has proven problematic. Yet, I think we might have stumbled upon the right person to help us.
So we descend the stairs to the under road tunnel that leads to our local market. We’re still discussing what had just happened, I catch the eye of a woman sitting at the end of the stairs. She reaches high with her hands ands starts reciting basic foods… “chapati, dhaal, aloo..” she goes.
I lose my trail of thought, and apparently so does J. Her hollering behind us makes me feel awful, I try to think of something to say to J, to get the conversation going again. But all I can hear is her chapati chant.
I’ve been told many times to never give money, but sometimes I really do wonder if it would be so awful.