My
True Tale
Essay
By Sat Mandir Singh Khalsa
The
Beggar Boy
A
few weeks ago, during a so-far uneventful G.T. (Golden Temple)
trip, I was walking along, minding my own business, when I suddenly
felt a tug on the side of my chola. I looked down and saw a scrappy-looking
beggar boy about seven or eight years old staring up at me, hand
outstretched. He looked pitiful. He had long, greasy hair that
was draped sloppily over his face and almost concealed his big,
round eyes, which portrayed an emotion of deep sorrow. A tattered
hemp shirt that was much too small for him was pulled as far as
it would go over a cavity of a stomach, which indented his skeletal
frame. Covering his twig-like legs was a pair of old, hand-me-down
trousers that were torn and faded from generations of use. His
feet were shoeless and calloused from many years of walking barefoot
through the rough streets of Amritsar. From head to toe, he was
covered in a thick coat of dirt and grime that darkened and splotched
his skin.
He was repulsive, and he’d touched me! I felt contaminated.
I quickly turned and hurried back up the street. Pausing at a
nearby shop, I bought an ice cream, thinking it might help purge
my mind of the dirty little boy. It didn’t. I kept thinking
about those big, sad eyes staring up at me. Why did he make me
feel so guilty? I wasn’t responsible for putting him on
the street, for forcing him to beg. I hadn’t hurt him…
but I hadn’t helped him either. He was in need, but instead
of feeling sympathy for him, I felt disgust, as if he didn’t
have feelings, as if he weren’t human. I was angry with
myself. How could I have brushed him off so easily, without a
second thought, as if he were some insect crawling up my leg?
I finished the ice cream bar, bought a second for later, and continued
on up the street. About a hundred feet away, I came to a second
shop. The storefront was packed with MPA students, all matching
in their blue cholas with miniature adi shaktis patched onto the
sides. Each one had a five or a ten or a twenty rupee note in
his or her hand and was jabbing it at the men behind the counter,
hoping to catch their attention so that THEY would be first to
be served. I realized how awfully rude this was and made a mental
note to myself to be a little more respectful in the future.
I turned away from the shop and continued on my journey up the
street. I heard someone call out my name. Still walking, I looked
back over my shoulder to see what he wanted. I never found out.
Just after I had turned around, my legs hit into something and
I had to stumble forward to prevent myself from falling. Startled,
I looked down and standing there before me was the little beggar
boy, in exactly the same position with his arm outstretched, palm
cupped, staring.
My first thoughts were similar to the ones I had had during our
previous encounter, but I soon silenced my mind and took control.
Remembering the ice cream bar in my pocket, I took it out and
handed it to him. His eyes instantly illuminated, and he smiled
so widely that I could see tops of his gums. In the blink of an
eye he had the ice cream out of its wrapper and into his mouth.
A few seconds later, I was surrounded by an entire posse of children,
all looking at me hopefully. I turned back to the shop, ordered
ten more ice creams, and began handing them out. The rest of the
children’s reactions were similar to that of the first.
One by one they took their treat gratefully, being extremely careful
not to drop it. Then they slowly licked away, savoring every moment.
When they finished they skipped away, rejuvenated and content.
As I watched them go, I realized how such a small sacrifice on
my part could make such a large impact on others less fortunate.
--
Miri
Piri Academy
More
Miri Piri Academy
A
True Tale by Siri Atma Kaur
