“Give me your wallet, bro” he said in his heavy accent while holding a gun to my forehead. It seems, out of pure curiosity, I have walked into this shady neighborhood of San Francisco. “Pull out your wallet,” he shouted, “and count the cash,” this time bringing my full attention to him. I pulled out my wallet, carefully counted all the nickels, pennies and dimes and said, “13 dollars, 59 cents, and one Indian Rupee”. “That’s it,” he blustered at the peak of his voice while I stood sweating profusely on a chilly night. He was not amused and pulled the trigger.

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

I woke up in the middle of the wintry night with the vivid memory of the dream I had. While stabilizing my heartbeat, out of sheer inquisitiveness, I reached out for my wallet and counted the cash; it had 13 dollars, 59 cents, and 1 Indian Rupee.