The Art of Happiness

urban predator dedicated to the Street Swindle.Walking the scorching Delhi streets, a Westerner,a Foreigner, a Target, approached by a halfdozenhustlers per block, it felt as if I had“CHUMP” tattooed on my forehead. It wasdemoralizing.That morning, I fell for a common two-manstreet scam. One partner splattered a splotch ofred paint on my shoes while I wasn’t looking.Down the block, his confederate, an innocentlooking shoeshine boy, brought the paint to myattention and offered to shine my shoes at theusual going rate. He deftly shined the shoes withinminutes. When finished, he calmly demanded ahuge sum—two months wages for many in Delhi.When I balked, he claimed that that was theprice he had quoted me. I objected again, andthe boy began to bellow, drawing a crowd,