I look at the old woman with her bags, and the tattered sari drawn over her head, standing at the door of a shop.
I look with pity for a moment, before catching myself and looking away, lest she should see the pity in my eyes and come near.
I tell myself there are other claims on my purse. And feel slightly guilty.
She comes over eventually. I give her two stray coins lying before me. I try not to meet her eyes.
She touches her hand respectfully to her forehead before walking away.
And I wonder about the life of someone who feels grateful for two rupees.