Staying away from home, I usually have my dinner in one of the stalls across the road. They reassure something that I have always believed in; the roads are a sad place.
Every evening, I see a lot of beggars asking for money, while a lot of people and I just ignore them or feel sorry for them and continue eating and filling our stomachs in front of someone who might not be able to eat anything at all. I ofcourse feel sorry for them and feel ugly about myself, but, reality's reality. It's often that in these cases, you don't think beyond your own needs. There are two specific persons who come to that area to ask for money. One of them is a young girl and the other looks like her father, blind and perhaps, mentally challenged. The father walks as if he walks and his head is tilted towards the sky. He constantly keeps nodding it from side to side and his eyes are white. They go around, like every other economically devastated person in hope of getting something to sustain on.
One particular day, while I sorrily denied them any money while eating my food, again, they went to a man to ask for some money. The man was extremely tall and well-built. He was half-bald and looked like someone I knew (He wasn't that person). He had just lit a cigarette and was smoking it like a professional. While his other companions and friends had denied them money, he stopped them. He literally blocked the way they were taking to go to another place. This caught my attention. I stopped eating and looked at what he was going to do. He lifted his hand to his face and shot up three fingers. Logic dictates, as it was true, that he had asked the father, "How much is this?" It did not look like the father replied. The daughter tried to escape, but, he blocked their way, again. It made me angry and question his actions. All this time, he had a one-sided smile on his face. It ticked me off further. But, well, what could I do? I was just another person with a mind to prevent such humiliation and no body to do it. The man asked the father, again, "How many fingers am I holding up?" It was almost as if he was doing it for his own entertainment. The daughter replied something that I could not understand. The man spoke with the daughter for some more time, asking her questions. I tried to place myself in their shoes and think of how devastating it would be, for someone to doubt my disabilities and plight. I wouldn't have cared, after living in such conditions, about what other people thought when they had heard me. I would just feel devastated about someone questioning my disability just for their entertainment. I do not think that the father even replied to any of these questions. Maybe, he wasn't able to. I was watching this scene and I felt really bad. But, then, something magical happened.
The man who seemed to be taking fun out of their plight was not some bully I had thought him to be. He was being a kind man. The man did not intend to add salt to a wound, he sought to add medicine by sharing the pain and knowing their story. He was making conversation with someone no one would. He was being friendly. I know this, how? Soon after the daughter and the man finished talking, he pulled out a fifty-rupee note and gave it to the daughter. The daughter took it and went away. I don't know if she showed any expression of gratitude. I don't know if the man felt good about it; maybe he did. I would've. He calmly walked to his group of friends and smoked his cigarette, nodding to some chat his friend was having about office.
This scene made me smile. A moment ago, I felt like thrashing the man and a moment later, I felt like felicitating him with the highest humanitarian award that there is. I'm thankful that I had waited that moment, because, it gave me a gem of a memory that I will cherish for a long time.
Every evening, I see a lot of beggars asking for money, while a lot of people and I just ignore them or feel sorry for them and continue eating and filling our stomachs in front of someone who might not be able to eat anything at all. I ofcourse feel sorry for them and feel ugly about myself, but, reality's reality. It's often that in these cases, you don't think beyond your own needs. There are two specific persons who come to that area to ask for money. One of them is a young girl and the other looks like her father, blind and perhaps, mentally challenged. The father walks as if he walks and his head is tilted towards the sky. He constantly keeps nodding it from side to side and his eyes are white. They go around, like every other economically devastated person in hope of getting something to sustain on.
One particular day, while I sorrily denied them any money while eating my food, again, they went to a man to ask for some money. The man was extremely tall and well-built. He was half-bald and looked like someone I knew (He wasn't that person). He had just lit a cigarette and was smoking it like a professional. While his other companions and friends had denied them money, he stopped them. He literally blocked the way they were taking to go to another place. This caught my attention. I stopped eating and looked at what he was going to do. He lifted his hand to his face and shot up three fingers. Logic dictates, as it was true, that he had asked the father, "How much is this?" It did not look like the father replied. The daughter tried to escape, but, he blocked their way, again. It made me angry and question his actions. All this time, he had a one-sided smile on his face. It ticked me off further. But, well, what could I do? I was just another person with a mind to prevent such humiliation and no body to do it. The man asked the father, again, "How many fingers am I holding up?" It was almost as if he was doing it for his own entertainment. The daughter replied something that I could not understand. The man spoke with the daughter for some more time, asking her questions. I tried to place myself in their shoes and think of how devastating it would be, for someone to doubt my disabilities and plight. I wouldn't have cared, after living in such conditions, about what other people thought when they had heard me. I would just feel devastated about someone questioning my disability just for their entertainment. I do not think that the father even replied to any of these questions. Maybe, he wasn't able to. I was watching this scene and I felt really bad. But, then, something magical happened.
The man who seemed to be taking fun out of their plight was not some bully I had thought him to be. He was being a kind man. The man did not intend to add salt to a wound, he sought to add medicine by sharing the pain and knowing their story. He was making conversation with someone no one would. He was being friendly. I know this, how? Soon after the daughter and the man finished talking, he pulled out a fifty-rupee note and gave it to the daughter. The daughter took it and went away. I don't know if she showed any expression of gratitude. I don't know if the man felt good about it; maybe he did. I would've. He calmly walked to his group of friends and smoked his cigarette, nodding to some chat his friend was having about office.
This scene made me smile. A moment ago, I felt like thrashing the man and a moment later, I felt like felicitating him with the highest humanitarian award that there is. I'm thankful that I had waited that moment, because, it gave me a gem of a memory that I will cherish for a long time.
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