Most of us walk a metaphorical tightrope in life, but this brave teenager, from the Nat tribe literally walks one high above Chandni Chowk risking her life to feed her family of six and support an alcoholic father. Below her, her mother operates a music system from a parked rickshaw with her head hung low, desperately holding out plates and even pushing a digital QR code toward smartphone users, yet hardly anyone stops to fling a few coins for her daughters’ daredevilry. “My daughter has fallen a couple of times and even broken a bone, but what to do,” the mother tells me. She is unhappy exposing her daughter and herself to ogling eyes. “My tribe has been doing this for ages. We eat here, rest and work her for over 10 hours with no access to a ladies’ toilet. At night we go to our shack near the railway station.” From the jhalliwallas to palledars, daily-wage laborers, helpers, runners, guards, acrobats and dozens of other menial workers throng this busy street, which has been bustling with activity for nearly 400 years now. <In Chandni Chowk, a week before> ‘पुरानी दिल्ली: साझा संस्कृति का सफ़र’ from @Leftword.com
Ankahi. Unsaid. 
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