Sufi Headquarters
We are standing, once again at the end of the rose-scented lane, near the entrance to the dargah. Karen has decided to do something to help alleviate the misery of the beggars who are gathered at the gates, palms outstretched and beseeching. She buys about twenty nans from a baker in an open stall, in full view of the beggars. Then with an air of great determination she begins handing out nans.
There seems to be a moment of awkward hesitation, as though no one can really believe what they are seeing. Then, there is a sudden rush of bodies, the outstretching of thin, claw like fingers, pushing, shoving and shouts of protest. In seconds Karen is stripped of all the nans and is being confronted by more angry faced beggars who felt they have been cheated out of their share. Suddenly, she is shaking, not believing what she has just witnessed.
I am immediately reminded of our confrontation with the angry monkeys at Elephanta when Karen and the children had tried to feed them. Poverty here is a real issue.