Change

Sir, empty your pockets and step away from the cash register...

Change.

This time I'm not talking about some metaphor like it's a simile wrapped in an innuendo, covered with vague, and sprinkled with dogmatic bon mots. No. This time I speak of the cold, hard, tangible reality; that emblem of a civilized commercial society that has gone on, as the locals put it, "since time immemorial"... cash. 

The deal in India with money is interesting and complex. It is highly regarded as a gift from the gods themselves and is often treated as such when it is not treated like the rest of the highway it rides. Blessings are made over each transaction in shops that display Ganesh, Lakshmi, or other deity of choice. Great care is taken by many to keep money in order and clean. If I were to present a ripped or holed bill, it may be refused. Yeah, just like that. And after I hand it with my right hand and everything. It doesn't matter that I didn't burn it, THEY just don't want the negativity from me. I have displayed out-of-circulation bills at the studio. They are cute and rarely seen. Nowadays, all the money has Gandhi on it. Oh, the irony. There are several languages on each bill, several watermarks and anti-counterfit strips that the clerks love to check, and all the money is differently colored and sized. For the blind and illiterate it would come easier than dealing with our cash. The lowest denomination is a five-rupee note, about 10 cents worth. It is also illegal to leave the country with Indian money. I found this out after my first trip. Oops. 

Despite the color, size, and alpha-numeric differences displayed in their varietous plumage, there isn't enough of it. Apparently anywhere. They will 'sell' it at the airport for a charge, also inside temples one can get a stack of coins at a mark up to give back to the stalls inside. But if you ask for any, nobody has it. Rickshaw drivers will NEVER have change, so don't ask. Mom & pop stores (about 80% of small businesses) will rifle through a tin, then say no. Newspapers often cost in rupee and 'paise' or half-rupee, which they will never, ever seem to find. They will always ask you the consumer whose job it is to provide exact change at all times. When you don't, you will get a look back home seen only by the greatest 13-year-old girls, the dreaded 'stink-eye.' They will roll their eyes, sigh, then really, really, slowly count back your change. It's as if they personally had to give me their 7 rupees. Often (usually) they won't have change, and will instead give me candy. Actually, by doing this, they are making me BUY a piece of candy for the remaining 2 or 3 rupees we are talking about. And it's usually something I can't eat. They told me at the pharmacy that they were giving me chocolate, and I smiled like I was admitting that it was my fault we were even having this discussion. As I left, I saw it wasn't chocolate. They were cough drops.

Now I feel sick.

aeryk