An American Beggar
An American Beggar
made my evening walk the other day full of new experiences. On the way from Wal-Mart to hotel, I saw someone standing with a sign board hanging around neck; face down and covered with a typical American-hip-hop-cap! Unable to bear curiosity, I went nearer when I could read:
“No Home; No Food; No Money!
Help needed! Be a God, & bless me!”
What a shame to George W. Bush I thought; went further to hand over a ten dollar note. He said…
“Yo Yo…Thanks Man…Yo’ really’re a man-f-heart!”
As his face was covered with a scarf, I couldn’t see his face…but he surely was a black man; must be in mid 30’s.
I asked his name? He said “George” and removed the scarf! Seconds of silence and he started:
“Yo man…I am not used to be what I am today! I am a war veteran. I gave everything to this country, but in return Katrina washed out every bit of me; I am what I am today-Begging here for a pack of cigarettes & a glass of drinks!!!!!!” Again Silence!
I could figure out two drops of tears at some corners of his dry eyes but they would never drop!
I continued his conversation saying, “you are a tough man, you can easily earn much more by not doing what you are doing here standing in skin deep cold.”
He laughed; stared into my eyes in puzzle but didn’t speak a single word. Again silence would stand between us.
But then, a Mercedes stops. A white lady’s hand out of dark window pane throws a dollar note towards me and says “God Bless You”!
What a shame, I would stumble on my miserable existence at a traffic signal! How could she think of me as a beggar…! George would burst in jest and fume, “Look at my fellow @#*&! ^% American Citizens. They just made my Honorable God a beggar!”
Embarrassment is like a slow poison and I didn’t wish to die so early! Handed over the one dollar note to him and with discomfort smile, I was about to walk away, he asked my name.
His face was of a Philosopher’s and murmured, “I didn’t intend to insult you though! Do you still wanna know why I am begging?” I didn’t answer. He continued, “Ask each mothers from Vietnam, Afghanistan & Iraq. The Ghosts of their sons ‘Man…the ghosts of their daughters!!!”
I increased my speed and started running fast till I could merely hear his voice! Within minutes, I was in my room and stared at the bright fields of snow scattered all over!
Dignity, freedom of speech, anger, shamelessness, laziness, addiction…all seems to unify much of what an Indian beggar does on streets in comparison with its American counterpart.
Precisely, it is perhaps the style of begging where different approaches to social obligations take priority.
Nevertheless, Poverty remains the same!!!
The American beggar trembles under an open winter sky waiting for merciful strangers as they stop by the Traffic Signal. The Indian beggar kneels, rolls, and beats himself in rain & sun whispering prayers, begging mercy, offering 1 rupee worth blessings to strangers! It's as if the American beggar, although he has fallen to the bottom of society, still lays claim to the American ethos of social equality, which says that any person has the right to speak to anyone else wherever and whenever he wants. He must beg for cigarettes & wine!!! He must respect ghosts…
Many a times, my friends from all over world complain about Beggars in India. This is a wired way of insulting a prosperous India! The India we live in! I crumble at their underestimation of our social heritage with such isolated examples! Laugh at the rush of political propagandas for American Presidency or Billion promises of our own Indian Netas’!
What’s the difference? What’s the point in blaming systems!
What’s the difference between an American Beggar’s pain that of its Indian counterpart's?
What’s the benefit in listening a beggar’s story or rather sharing with you???
What’s the harm otherwise in raising dry emotions that would run deeper within and force two drops of beggar’s tears to fall on our cheeks and further flow down in everyone's ignorance???
made my evening walk the other day full of new experiences. On the way from Wal-Mart to hotel, I saw someone standing with a sign board hanging around neck; face down and covered with a typical American-hip-hop-cap! Unable to bear curiosity, I went nearer when I could read:“No Home; No Food; No Money!
Help needed! Be a God, & bless me!”
What a shame to George W. Bush I thought; went further to hand over a ten dollar note. He said…
“Yo Yo…Thanks Man…Yo’ really’re a man-f-heart!”
As his face was covered with a scarf, I couldn’t see his face…but he surely was a black man; must be in mid 30’s.
I asked his name? He said “George” and removed the scarf! Seconds of silence and he started:
“Yo man…I am not used to be what I am today! I am a war veteran. I gave everything to this country, but in return Katrina washed out every bit of me; I am what I am today-Begging here for a pack of cigarettes & a glass of drinks!!!!!!” Again Silence!
I could figure out two drops of tears at some corners of his dry eyes but they would never drop!
I continued his conversation saying, “you are a tough man, you can easily earn much more by not doing what you are doing here standing in skin deep cold.”
He laughed; stared into my eyes in puzzle but didn’t speak a single word. Again silence would stand between us.
But then, a Mercedes stops. A white lady’s hand out of dark window pane throws a dollar note towards me and says “God Bless You”!
What a shame, I would stumble on my miserable existence at a traffic signal! How could she think of me as a beggar…! George would burst in jest and fume, “Look at my fellow @#*&! ^% American Citizens. They just made my Honorable God a beggar!”
Embarrassment is like a slow poison and I didn’t wish to die so early! Handed over the one dollar note to him and with discomfort smile, I was about to walk away, he asked my name.
His face was of a Philosopher’s and murmured, “I didn’t intend to insult you though! Do you still wanna know why I am begging?” I didn’t answer. He continued, “Ask each mothers from Vietnam, Afghanistan & Iraq. The Ghosts of their sons ‘Man…the ghosts of their daughters!!!”
I increased my speed and started running fast till I could merely hear his voice! Within minutes, I was in my room and stared at the bright fields of snow scattered all over!
Dignity, freedom of speech, anger, shamelessness, laziness, addiction…all seems to unify much of what an Indian beggar does on streets in comparison with its American counterpart.
Precisely, it is perhaps the style of begging where different approaches to social obligations take priority.
Nevertheless, Poverty remains the same!!!
The American beggar trembles under an open winter sky waiting for merciful strangers as they stop by the Traffic Signal. The Indian beggar kneels, rolls, and beats himself in rain & sun whispering prayers, begging mercy, offering 1 rupee worth blessings to strangers! It's as if the American beggar, although he has fallen to the bottom of society, still lays claim to the American ethos of social equality, which says that any person has the right to speak to anyone else wherever and whenever he wants. He must beg for cigarettes & wine!!! He must respect ghosts…
Many a times, my friends from all over world complain about Beggars in India. This is a wired way of insulting a prosperous India! The India we live in! I crumble at their underestimation of our social heritage with such isolated examples! Laugh at the rush of political propagandas for American Presidency or Billion promises of our own Indian Netas’!
What’s the difference? What’s the point in blaming systems!
What’s the difference between an American Beggar’s pain that of its Indian counterpart's?
What’s the benefit in listening a beggar’s story or rather sharing with you???
What’s the harm otherwise in raising dry emotions that would run deeper within and force two drops of beggar’s tears to fall on our cheeks and further flow down in everyone's ignorance???
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