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How Upasni Maharaj and The Burger King Special
Helped Get “Red” Off The Streets.

In 2004,I was in India in the “Spiritual Academy”, the staff reading room of Meher Baba’s ashram , looking thru the bookshelves and spied an old friend there. The Talks of Shri Sadguru Upasni Maharaj.
I opened one of the books of the 6 volume set and sat down with my cornbread and tea to enjoy a morning’s relaxation before starting to work on a website for a film recently released entitled God in Human Form, The Life and Work of Avatar Meher Baba.
As I starting reading the talks of Upasni Maharaj, I became drawn into them. This was not the first time I read the Talks. I had been reading them on and off for years, but it had been a while since I read them. As I was reading them the thought struck me. ‘I should make a film about these.’ Knowing that a play was to be preformed in 3 months time on the life of Upasni Maharaj, I thought it might be nice to present a film of his talks and the dramatization of his life together in the same week. So ,I set myself the task of making a film on his Talks. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would get absorbed into this project and it would end up taking me 18 more months to complete.
The first task in making the film was to read all 6 volumes of the Talks which I called the Discourses, and select which ones would play well in a film. One particular Discourse caught my eye. It was about how one should not mind the pain of loss, because after all, Upasni stated, God is the real owner of all that you have, and if he chooses to take away some or even all of it, how can you prevent him.
In this Discourse he mentioned his favorite mantra “ Be As It May.” This was to be my title, I would title the film Be As It May, The Discourses of Upasni Maharaj.
It took all of the next three months simply to select the Discourses I would use in the film, then it took more time to find and record the narrator. But on the above mentioned discourse, I knew that I wanted to use images of the homeless; both the homeless in India, and the homeless in America, in particular, Chicago , my home town, where I worked with homeless people for 5 years. I was scheduled to leave India soon and return to America. But before I left, I needed to find and film a suitable homeless person in India.
I got on a bus, traveled 3 hours to Poona, India, a fairly large city, and began to look on the streets. It is not a difficult task to find the homeless in India. There are innumerable homeless in India and they often congregate near the train stations, so I went to the train stations, filmed some there, but I wasn’t satisfied. I continued to search, filmed some more, again was unsatisfied, and continued.
Finally, I gave up, decided that I would go about my other business of that day and if I happened to come across a homeless soul, I would film them. This strategy turned out to be the best. Within a few minutes, I saw her, a beautiful homeless Indian women about 40 years old, on the side of the road , in rags barely covering her. The entire scene; her, her rags, the ground she was sitting on , were all brown, a golden brown, she blended into India, she was the dirt of India itself, she was India, completely of the earth, and yet also of the sky for in her hair were streaks of silver. She was magnificent in her helplessness. She was mother India, I set up my camera and began filming.
When I returned to Chicago, I went back to work at an old art supply store where I used to work and whose better days were behind it. Near the intersection of the highway and the street the store was located , I saw a homeless man, about 50 years old, with a sign in his hand which read,‘ homeless, hungry, please help’.
I had my camera, and I approached him and offered him 20 dollars to film him. He looked at me askance, others had offered this too, he stated, but never paid him after they took his picture. I didn’t have the cash on me, so I told him to wait, went to a cash machine and withdrew the 20 dollars needed to pay him. I returned with the twenty and with some food I bought, and the filming began. One dollar a minute, I told him, I was hiring him at 60 dollars an hour. His name was Darrel Chambers, but he was known in the neighborhood as “Red”, because of his red hair , red face and red complexion as though he were both terribly cold and wind burnt.
After just a few minutes of filming Red he began to collect a few donations, he turned to me and stated that I was good for business. It seemed that the people in cars didn’t want to be filmed being stingy and uncaring so they were winding down their windows and handing Red dollar bills. Unfortunately very shortly it began to rain, and the filming had to stop. Red went for shelter under the viaduct where he lived, and I returned to the store.
With this footage I had now shot in India and Chicago, I was ready to edit the piece, placing the narration over music I created, and laying in the images. It turned out to be one of the strongest parts of the film and I was grateful that I found two “actors” for the parts.
In the interim, I saw Red a few more times, on the streets, he as hobbling worse, and I stopped to see how he was and ask him his story.
He was born in Nebraska, moved to Portland Oregon when he was in his twenties and worked there as a dry-waller in the construction trade. 2 years back he needed work and a friend told him that he had a job for them in Chicago. The two traveled to Chicago, but when he arrived the job was cancelled. His friend found other work in Ohio, and Red was on the streets. He tried various shelters but they were mean places, he preferred the streets. Under the freeway, he had a small community of homeless there, and they helped each other. Once the city brought their garbage trucks, loaded in all of the homeless’s possessions ,constructed a chain link fence under the bridge and declared that anyone entering it would be arrested for trespassing. Most of his community moved on, but Red shifted across the street, in a more secluded spot where he spent the entire year, sleeping outdoors even in winter. He explained to me that he was illiterate and without an address, found it impossible to obtain work, receive benefits, and collect his Social Security. He was entitled to 520 dollars a month, but needed a payee, someone to receive his check for him. It was all too difficult, impossible without help and so he remained where he was, hungry and homeless and on the streets.
Fast forward a year and there I was, walking to the art supply store, my film completed, when I saw Red. He was walking toward me, we met in front of a Burger King, which featured two sausage croissants for 3 dollars. It was quite a special. I was hungry and I assume Red was, and so I asked him to join me to the sausage croissants. He accepted, and when we entered two middle age women were in front of us in line. I seldom frequent Burger King or McDonalds, because the atmosphere is rather low. Too many people down on their luck, lining up for their cheap meals. I do, however, respect the fast food chains, because they feed the poor. Not for free, but for very cheap. It is a hunger filler the poor can afford.
The two ladies received their order and sat down. Red and I received our order and sat down. We started talking, I asked Red if he drank, not much he said, but yes, he drank when he could afford it. I asked him if he wish to try a shelter I knew of. Just then one of the ladies got up, came over and sat down at our table. We were startled. Did I hear you taking about recovery, she asked. Yeah, we said, wondering why she was sitting next to us now. I’m Silvia, she said, I work at Gateway, and can help you overcome your addiction. We just looked at her. Where did she come from? I was familiar with Gateway, I had been there in my work with the homeless. I found it to be the cleanest, most well organized recovery program I had seen.” Do you wish to go”? she asked Red. Red was startled, he wanted to get help, but wasn’t ready, and this just came out of nowhere. “I, I, I want to, “he said.” But, I have to collect my mail from a friends house and get my stuff, and, and.” Red was taken back, so, I intervened and asked Silvia .” How about tomorrow. we can all meet here tomorrow at nine. 9am at Burger King?” “ Fine”, she said, and then to Red, “can you wash? put on cleaner clothes, do you have a place to wash?, and then she complimented Red, she said, that he was so handsome that just a little washing was all needed. When she complimented Red, Red smiled such a smile and I knew it was the perfect thing for Silvia to say. Silvia hit the spot. She was good. Somehow, she touched Red and then we all left, promising to meet again the next morning, 9am at Burger King.
The next morning, I rode my bike to Burger King, Red was sitting outside, with a big black plastic bag, all his possessions were inside, and he looked good, he had found a place to wash and put on a better shirt. He was excited; he was looking forward to receiving help, and especially getting a payee for his social security. We went inside, and ordered the sausage croissants special, and sat down, it was 3 minutes to nine. We ate, we waited, mostly in silence. Red finished his sandwich and looked at me and commented. “Other people also tell me there going to show up, but don’t. It always happens”. I looked at him.” Silvia will show up”, I said, “she is a sincere person. “”I hope so,” he muttered. We waited, 18 minutes after nine.” Well, I know where she works, and can call her if she doesn’t come. “I stated. Red just looked at me, then went outside for a cigarette. He returned, he sat down, then a white car pulled into the lot. Silvia entered into the Burger King and gave Red a hug, placing her face against his hair. I noticed she had no hesitation to touch and hug a homeless man, even thought there may be lice in that red hair.She was special. “ Let’s go,” she said, and Red climbed into her white car, and I waved them goodbye .
The next day, I looked for Red where he lived, under the freeway. He wasn’t there. The day after, I looked again. Again he wasn’t there, and neither the next day.

I am going back to India. I have just a day left, I need to go back to the store to clean my desk. I am driving a co-worker. On the way down, I curse. There is Red sitting on a bus stop bench, if he was accepted at Gateway, he would not have been there.
I have no time to stop, I ponder, I wonder, I am disappointed, I think to myself, it was all for nothing, then …I think to myself, Be As It May.

9 Months later
I returned from India 9 months later in May 2006. I didn’t see Red anywhere. I went to work often, passing the place where I saw Red last. But no Red. What happened to Red?
Months went by until July10th, the day that followers of Meher Baba keep silent to remember Baba’s Silence . Of course that day, I saw Red. But I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t say hi, couldn’t say bye, but there he was on the streets holding his sign looking for a buck to “help the homeless”. He saw me, came over to me and started talking.
Immediately he started launching into his story. “That lady ain’t no good” he said. “She was a liar.” All I could do was to smile and nod my head and smile and nod my head then I waved, gestured that I wasn’t talking and rode off.
A week later, now in a talking mood, I ran into him again. He has been admitted into Gateway rehab Clinic from the afternoon that I saw him last until Christmas eve. On Christmas eve they threw him out on the streets with no money,no place to go, no referrals , nothing.
I looked at him, it didn’t seem possible, no social service agency could do that. You can’t let someone out without a referral in the middle of winter. But he swore it was true, and on top of that, the lady used to bring booze into the rehabilitation center to make friends with the clinics there. Now his story was really going too far. But he swore to it.
Ok, I said, allright, She’s no good, but you want off the streets,I’ll see what I can do.
Yeah, he said, I trust you but not that lady, see if you can help.
Something inside me sort of died that day. The desire to help Red off the streets became somehow too heavy and impossible to live forever. So, I buried it, and went on.
But every now and then, I would see Red and a prick of conscience alerted me that I had buried a living man. But I went on, forgetting him quickly enough. But again and again, I saw him and buried my conscience. Then one day, I saw him, took a deep breath and said. Ok, today will be the day , went to work, immediately dialed the number to my old agency whose sole job was to help people off the streets and talked to them. The department that went directly onto the streets for assessments wasn’t in, but I got an 800 number that Red could call anytime he wants to talk to someone about housing. I scribbled it down and then out the door, on my bike and off to Burger King.
I bought two sausage croissants, and headed to where I saw Red last. But damn it, he wasn’t there. I walked around, waited, no Red. No Red, no White, no Blue. No one at all. Dejected I sat down to eat the two sausage croissants, and lo and behold there was Red, coming out of a store. I waved to him, he came over, we sat in a parking lotand talked and ate our sausage croissants, I explained about our agency and I gave him the 800 number and two bucks…..that was the last I saw of Red, maybe he called the number or maybe he hasn’t, or maybe he did and he didn’t choose their services.But at least I didn’t bury a living man. He is a tough one, Red. He has lived 3 years outside in a Chicago winter. King of Austerities, Upasni Maharaj, please help him.

Be As It May