Two hundred rupees. I had it. But to offer it, I would have to enter their conversation. I would have to stop being the observer and become the participant. I would have to speak their Hindi — not the textbook Hindi of Mera naam hai , not the Bollywood Hindi of Main tumse pyar karta hoon , but the gutter Hindi of negotiation, of mercy, of the street.

Five minutes. I could do five minutes.

And then the driver turned to me. His eyes were not pleading. They were simply asking . The way a child asks for water. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence between us was louder than the traffic.