The Test of Human Worth

Is money a global form of communication? I asked myself that while waiting for the driver, in his native Tamil, to negotiate a price, on my behalf, with a tour guide in Mamallapuram, India. The tour guide needed my money, and I needed his knowledge. Intricately clad figures in striking, interactive poses carved within the monuments were aesthetically satisfying, but they were voiceless to my ear. The tour guide, a thin man in free-flowing garb, summoned from the stone art the stories of Hindu gods and goddesses. He used my disposable camera to snap the same photo of me smiling and squinting next to each piece of important Indian history.

Finally, we came upon the gift shop with handcrafted memories. The tour guide spoke extensively of the Kama Sutra-themed souvenirs, from the round marble statue to the bamboo wall hanging. He seemed excited, or perhaps he was trying to make me excited, about the lascivious side of his culture. I declined to make any purchases.

Throughout the tour, the driver, a heavyset man often out of breath (a feature the tour guide mocked), lagged behind us. When it came time for compensation, the tour guide escorted me to an open space, insisting that others, minus the driver, were nearby. I hesitated. He articulated his case for more money than what he and the driver discussed. First, he touted his touring abilities—his illumination of India for the ignorant. Then, he described the stark reality of a tour guide’s life—it’s seasonal and sporadic. I fixated on the original amount but agreed he was a gifted guide. He gazed at the unwilling bills I pulled from my wallet, preferring dollars to rupees. I gave him the rupees, a few hundred more than intended. I knew from his tone it was not what he wanted, but to a traveler on a tight budget it was something. I thanked him and walked back to the driver, worrying and wondering what he would have done had he received a tour from me in the United States. Did the sum of my money determine his worth?