He followed me down one of the crowded streets of the Thamel district of Kathmandu. Like the half-dozen faux holy men who’d approached me earlier that day, he wanted to tuck marigold petals in my hat, maybe put a crimson painted tika on my forehead. If I let him do that, he would start asking me for rupees. I decided to turn the tables. I used my camera to hassle him, something I’d never, ever done before. Hmmm. The camera as a tool of retaliation. I followed him down the street, firing frame after frame with my soul-stealing black box, and he bolted away from me as if I was chasing him with a cattle prod. I guess it might sound like I was being mean, but right then I was just tired of constantly being asked for money.
