Bummerman Take 2

A couple days after I wrote about this social Bummerman, I found that he was no longer under the bridge that I saw him until then. I guess the Clean Philadelphia program by Mr.Nutter is the mysterious hand behind this guy missing. I spoke to my colleagues a week later about him and they said they saw him a couple blocks south of our building. I never saw him myself.

I met him near the Von Colln Field close to the Art Museum area . I spoke to him bit hesitantly at first. It was not like I speak to homeless people daily. In fact it was the first time that had I made an initiative to speak to a member of this socially outcast members of our society.

He is from Baltimore and was also in minor league once. He had coached kids in the little league for a few years. The kids in the baseball park come to him for tips on their game. He also attended medical school for 3 years and dropped out as he did not like it. He taught at a school for a while.

I found that he is between jobs and has friends who drop on him once in a while. It looks like he did a lot of things before settling into his current status. There might be a lot other things that one does not and cannot disclose to a stranger on the first conversation. But I had no doubt in my mind while accepting his story. My friend called me naive when I told him that he was not on drugs. I do not mind being naive as against judging a person. I have done that mistake once but not anymore.

Now that I spoke to him, I have lot more questions. Is this his choice, is he happy, how about his heathcare, how about his food. He did answer to some of my questions, but it strikes a little difficult to be living as such voluntarily, especially for a guy who is educated and smart. One such question was where does he sleep now, as his home has been cleaned up by the city. He keeps walking around the city in the night and sleeps during the day because the city officials would not let them sleep in the night on the benches.

I recently read a book called Gang Leader for a Day: A Rogue Sociologist Takes to the Streets by Sudhir Venkatesh. That book has created an entry into the field of sociology in my mind. It's a coincidence that I met Mr.Bummerman and my interest to understand the sociological incentives have when people like Bummerman decide to stay in their current circumstances. The sad part is that I do not remember his name. I promise this to myself that the next time, I talk to him, I will know his name and will no longer address him as Bummerman.

Long Way From Home

'Long way from Home, Boy', I thought to myself several times the last couple of years. It has been 10 years since I left home and 9 years in USA. I have been to different places like a wandering Samurai - Baroda, Morgantown, Pittsburgh, Dallas, Philadelphia. But nothing has come close to home, never felt the same like h0me. Morgantown and then Philly come close but they are as close as horizon. There are several things I like about living in Philly, my lifestyle has improved since college and am in good place I think.

But there are certain things that I miss. I miss the cold ocean breeze and the hot summer days. I miss the convenience store whose owner is an obnoxious snob but lets stuff out on credit. I miss the gang of guys making passes at cute girls in the street corner. I miss the teeth bites while trying to mediate a silly dispute between two young girls. I miss being pulled out of line for a first day first show after waiting in line for 3 hours and buying the tickets in black for a farce in the name of movie called 'Kondapalli Raja'.

I miss waking up at 5:00 AM to be at the tuition center for IIT. Never been any close to getting into IIT. I miss being the scared kid on the first day at school(AUCE college). I miss the road side junk food at the beach. I miss the cricket at my friends backyard with shady rules like one bounce catch.

I miss the soothing shade under the coconut tree in front of my home. The coconut trees are no longer there, but their imagery is still intact. I miss the sweet smell of jasmines from the 8 ft long Jasmine plant in my backyard planted by Mom. They must have grown longer. I miss the sweet taste of guava from my backyard.

I miss the tender touch of my 12 lb and 1 year old niece who is 11 years now. I miss not seeing the reaction on my nephew's face when he puts on the Spiderman costume I sent him. Most of all I miss my family. I miss not being for them when they need me. I say to myself several times a year 'You are long way from Home, Boy'.

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Above is an expanded version of my prompt for 'You are long way from Home, Boy' at my writer's workshop.

Commodities in Coin

I have read this story a long time ago about the smuggling of coins made with silver in India to Bangladesh. It was fascinating to me because the story told me that the metal that these coins were made is worth more than the face value of these coins.

So why do I revisit this story after decade and half? I have a friend who is 76 and never fails to pick up a penny if he sees one on the street. He told me how he had collected coins like that and recieved $500 from the bank for the coins he picked off of the street. He questions 'How can a country not respect a value of its pennys? It is worth something'. It got me thinking why people do not value penny and what had happened the coins in India. They were smuggled and allowed to be smuggled because the people felt there have value to them as they 5, 10 and 25 paise.

I mentioned about the story of the low end coins from India that were once smuggled to Bangladesh. He was amazed to hear it and surprising there was show on TV called '60 minutes' which ran story recently after our conversation.

I wanted to see if I can find the story online somewhere that I read in a Telugu daily some 15 years ago.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6766563.stm
http://www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/archives/004528.html