With a wisdom that is frightening in a seven-year-old, Narayan is your guide... to a world built on the foundation of hash, marijuana and illicit liquor. A world of dopey men and squalid jhuggis, bound together by their profession and their Tamil ancestry.

``We sell good quality hash, grass and liquor. All the stuff is good and that is why people come from all across the city to shop here. Once you try our stuff, you will never go anywhere else,'' promises Narayan, delivering you to your destination -- the Jalvihar jhuggi cluster in Jangpura Extension.

Firing instructions at men three times his age and size, the boy disappears into one of the jhuggis and the men take over. ``Kitne ki charas chahiye?'' oneof them questions, and it is only after you dish out a 50-rupee note that the questioning man is satisfied. A slight nod of his head and someone goes scurrying into a little jhuggi, somewhere towards the end of the row, and emerges within seconds. A little packet, wrapped in a polythene, changes hands (the men don't move, they just pass on the little parcel) and you have your stuff.

However, leaving the place is not as easy as getting in. Drug-addicts dog you all the way, begging for money, hash... anything. ``Please help me. I have no money to buy smack. Give me twenty rupees, okay ten, anything. Please, I have to buy some smack,'' one of them pleads, hanging on to your car door.

Just as you are helplessly digging into your wallet, Narayan once again comes to your rescue and with a colourful, but succinct vocabulary, threatens the addict with dire consequences. ``Police ko bata doonga. Hat yahan se?'' standing vigil till you move away.

You drive a little distance and then turn back,gesturing to the addict, who come running. ``Where can I buy some smack?'' you question, making a pretense of digging into my wallet. ``It is pretty close -- less than three kms away -- under the Nizamuddin flyover. You want to go, I can take you there,'' he offers, as do the rickshaw-pullers standing nearby.