On the way back from a breakfast trip today, we found ourselves stopped at a stop light patrolled by some beggar children. A pathetic-looking child came down our aisle and Sanju’s roommate, whose car we were in, flagged him down and started searching through her car. She always keeps a pack of biscuits (cookies, stateside) handy for the kids. If you give them change, it’ll wind up in the hands of their handlers, but they can eat the biscuits themselves.
Once, walking out of Morry’s Deli in Hyde Park, I had some fries left over. The middle aged, portly gentleman in front asked for change, and I offered the fries. He muttered something about how he couldn’t eat them, and I walked off. We have beggars in the states, and I thought that would prepare me to just steel myself when they came by, but I must say, the begging here is another ballgame entirely.
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