Wealth by the Dumpster
It was weird. Waiting to interview a rag picker. Usually my guests were well suited and often had a couple of degrees next to their name. But this one, didn’t even have a last name. Rustam, they called him. A 63-year-old man who talked to people half his age by titling them, ‘Sir’. Unfortunately, respect in this country came with money; not age. Being a reporter, this was my first opportunity to talk to someone who was not throwing money at a problem. “Chacha. Main Shyaam. Mere senior ne baat ki hogi aapse. Interview ke baare mein.” “Of course beta. If you don’t mind, can you conduct the interview while I go through this garbage? I have to clean this mess up as early as possible.” Stunned is an overreaction. Pleasantly surprised, yes, at the extent of English this man spoke. “Uh… Sir didn’t expect you to…” “Speak English?”, he replied. “Don’t blame you.” “Kachre ke saath angrezi kuch jhachti nahi.”, he said grinning. As impressed as I was, I still had a job to do. “It says here in my n...