In the spice market at Shahjahanabad, I found this frail lady sitting guard over some baskets and small metal stools.
I think she was selling them. I hesitated, torn between the photo opportunity she presented, and the desire to strike up a conversation.
She looked so fragile that I felt embarassed, hesitant. I was afraid that with my Westernised haircut and very 'modern' appearance, if I talked to her, she would think of me as someone alien, a city memsahib, blind to the realities of her life.
So I turned away, to explore the spice shop near her.
And the opportunity was lost.
I think she was selling them. I hesitated, torn between the photo opportunity she presented, and the desire to strike up a conversation.
She looked so fragile that I felt embarassed, hesitant. I was afraid that with my Westernised haircut and very 'modern' appearance, if I talked to her, she would think of me as someone alien, a city memsahib, blind to the realities of her life.
So I turned away, to explore the spice shop near her.
And the opportunity was lost.