More Calcutta

A bike coming down the road--dozens of white chickens hanging upside down off the handlebars. Men sit in closet-sized spaces high off the ground selling cigarettes, water and paan--banana leaves stacked, small metal pots lined up with tiny spoons, chopped betel nut. There are English magazines and books for sale on the sidewalks. When K and I step inside a hole-in-the-wall that sells pens and notebooks to use the STD phone, the owner is drinking tea from a thimble sized clay cup. When done, he throws it in the street where it smashes, asks if I want some. I say no thanks but he thinks I say yes. He calls into the street and a young boy comes over with a teakettle and two tiny cups. I say, "Oh, no thanks. It will keep me awake..." "But it's just tea!" the man exclaims, he seems disappointed and tells the boy to go away.