Puffing at his cigarette, he said, 'I could have easily got thirty per cent from someone else, but since you're a Bengali, I'll settle for twenty-five,' and then proceeded to take the entire amount, after which he mourned the fact that our race possessed no semblance of honesty. 'You've become quite a pro, claiming you don't make more than one-and-a-half rupees from six baskets. Think we're wet behind the cars?' Too nonplussed to say anything, I left silently, wondering again at this strange world. Amazing! Wasn't it the same world where I had once discovered beauty, respected people, even believed that God is to be found in man? Now I felt like an ass. Not even life's blows had bestowed wisdom upon me—would I never learn? This wouldn't do. I had to become cannier. And I did. I raised the price of a basket from one rupee to one-and-a-quarter, and unhesitatingly gave away one anna to any buyer who demanded his cut. I would even keep a straight face as I said, “I make nothing out of it, sir, it's a very competitive market. I'm selling without a margin to survive.'