The other people

One day while waiting for Pulkit with Jai in front of Flinder Street Railway Station, a rough guy came and asked us for one fu(dg)ing dollar since he wanted to have dinner. He said he could smell money on us. I was wondering what stance should I take. If he was alone I could be pretty rough as well, but he had comrades around, and so I decided to straight ignore him and gradually move away. Pulkit came up at that moment, and as he too refused him any buck, he had to hear the parting words which strangely were in Hindi, “Ra***, ch*****” albeit in an Aussie tone.

There are beggars too, but they play real good music, many of them. In fact I should not be calling them beggars. They would sit with their guitars, or trumpet, or xylophone on bridges and stations and some streets and play music. They keep an open case (mostly of some instrument) where the public put in money. They would not ask for it. One innovative guy also set up loudspeakers for his music to attract passer-bys. And there was an old pianist who had a list of old songs divided into 2 categories, “before I was born” and “after I was born” and the junta could request him to play one of them. (pic below)