The homeless man who offered me money

India is not a good place to be homeless or mentally ill. Though there are Government and private organisations that offer food, shelter, medicines, and public bathrooms, these are few in number as compared to the thousands living on the streets. Indians generally refer to them as beggars, as most of them can usually be found begging for money at places where lots of people pass through, like railway or bus stations, supermarkets, etc.

Personally, I don’t like to give them money. One reason is I believe in that old saying, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." Secondly, there have been too many cases where criminals kidnap, maim and send out on to the streets such ‘beggars,’ while snatching away their earnings at the end of the day.

Not that these arguments will make much sense to a hungry man. So I usually quietly hand over that fish. Or fruit, to be precise, as I usually get cornered outside the supermarket where I shop. A fruit from my grocery bag is better than giving money that may go to some gangster’s pocket.

Anyway, there’s one such mentally ill, homeless man who I have seen for the last 3–4 years wandering around outside this supermarket. He’s always dressed in torn and dirty rags, and can be usually seen carrying a bag full of empty plastic bottles. I assume he collects them from garbage and sells them to earn a bit of money. What makes him a bit scary is he unexpectedly lets out short screams at the top of his voice, targeted at no one in particular.

This morning, he was as usual, shouting loudly and randomly at no one, when I dropped by at the supermarket. On coming out, he suddenly approached me, and thrust a handful of currency notes into my hand, while speaking in fluent English. A homeless man giving me money was surprising, and so was the fact that he was speaking in English as most homeless folk in India are uneducated and only speak their local language.

The man pushed around ₹80 ($1.25) into my hand, and asked me to get him a coffee, and some idlis and vadas (south Indian breakfast snacks). From what he said, it seems the restaurants wouldn’t serve him. Indians are generally tolerant so my guess is that he would have scared off the restaurant’s potential customers by his random screams and unkempt appearance. Maybe the restaurant had a point, but to me, it felt unfair to deny food to someone who was offering to pay for it.

Besides, I was taken aback as I had never ever been offered money by a homeless man. So I did as he asked. But a few minutes later, I was regretting having done so, as there was a long queue at the restaurant take-out counter. Finally after around 15 minutes, my number was called. I collected the parcel, and headed back around the corner of the building where the man waited out of sight of the restaurant

As I approached, I heard him suddenly yell wildly into the air. On seeing me, he turned around, accepted his food from me with a calm demeanour, and asked me to get him another coffee. I said the restaurant had initially refused as they required a flask, and I really had to persuade them to give it to me in a disposable cup. But he knew the game better. He said I just got to sit down in the restaurant, and walk out with the coffee as they serve all customers in disposable cups.

I was impressed by his street smartness, but I refused to go back for that coffee as I was late. Instead I gave him money for a second coffee. Seeing me turning to leave, he asked me my name, and I told him, though something told me that maybe I shouldn’t. Sure enough, as I walked away I heard heard calling out my name loudly, wanting to know where I worked. I kept going.

Of course, he’s going to waylay me again to get him breakfast the next time I visit that supermarket. Will I help him? Doubt if I will. Or maybe, yes, once in a long while. I don’t really have the patience to go stand in queues to get him his breakfast.

Besides, I’m not exactly a charitable sort. Not that it bothers me. For one, my wife more than makes up for the family with her unique brand of goofy generosity, but that’s another story. And secondly, I noticed the man has other people on his payroll. When I last looked over my shoulder, he was handing over money to another unsuspecting shopper.

Another cup of coffee, I guess.