The chic beggar has dark streaks in her hair. The exact shade is hard to ascertain but I would go with a mix between mocha and mud red. The hair is held back with a fraying red ribbon; a more laid-back version of the kind that is wrapped around cheery gifts. Her face is expressionless, but her eyes leak condescension – it runs down her face is a gummy mess.

Her skirt has little bells at the hem, but they don’t make any sounds. Her shirt is tied in a loose knot at her midriff, it’s all very casual. Silver bangles snake around her dry arms. When she raises her hand to beg, the bangles all fall to her elbow in a cowering heap. She says something under her breath but I don’t hear it. Finally, she points to her feet. Her left foot is covered in a yellowing bandage.

I don’t see the wound though and either way I am sure it’s fake. What I do see is the tattoo above the bandage. It’s a fish jumping towards her knee. It’s jumping towards another fish which is half hidden under the edge of her skirt. I look back at her and she smirks.

I remove a five rupee coin to hand to her but she walks away, brushing me off like I am a pesky kid. I sit back, still holding the damp coin, unsure what I feel about the whole thing.