I took a little walk outside the hotel while Dad was sleeping. There was plenty to see. I enjoyed the experience of being observed by people who – I know – assumed I was a typical tourist, gaping at INDIA. 

I was gaping, it’s true, but that has more to do with my perpetual astonishment at life in this country, with the contrasts and the busy-ness and the color and the courage (would you imagine it was 110 degrees out by looking at these people? A similar day in London or New York would show people looking faint and exhausted – here it’s just another day with all the same things to accomplish and nothing particularly relaxing – like a cold shower or an AC room – too look forward to at the end of it).

After several interesting conversations with people, including a grandmother and a bewitchingly beautiful child, I headed back to the hotel. Just outside the door, I met this group of young scamps and started chatting with them.

The doorman at the hotel was on the scene instantly, trying to shoo them away. I explained that we were talking, and he calmed down a little, but remained vigilant and disapproving. The boys, for their part, were astonished when I spoke to them in Hindi. One said to the other: “She speaks Hindi!” I asked him, “Is there some problem with that?” In perfect English, he answered :”No problem, Auntie! There is no problem!”

They told me about their school, which they attend from 1 to 6 PM. “So what do you do in the mornings?” I asked. “Tuitions!” they chorused. “And when do you have fun?”

“At night! Till midnight!”

As they began to tell me about all they did for fun in the late hours in Paharganj, they grew more and more animated and unrestrained. Suddenly, in a swoop of authority and power, the doorman, assisted by two other men from the hotel, stepped down into the street and sent them off in no uncertain terms.

“They are Danger Boys,” he told me firmly. “They will steal from you and then where will we be?”