A conversation with the beggar with no legs.

A conversation with the beggar with no legs.

He was struggling to get up and relax himself to the side wall. He asked for help and people thought it was money he was asking for. He had been struggling to speak and communicate from the first day of his life. Born with no legs, he was useless to the human society and was thrown out of the house which he had no remembrance of now. Rarely he had food as he couldn't crawl to the road side stalls because of his body being infected with severe malnutrition.

For the thirty minutes of my presence there, he didn't look into my eyes and was gazing at the food and clearing his teary eyes. I served him with whatever I had, food, money and help. He had no stick to support him, no utensils and almost no clothes. 

People give me money but I can't use it, as it's difficult to reach the nearest place to eat. Sometimes I just want people to help me get up and take place under shelter but rarely I get a response. The dogs out there are my friends, they have fed me more than my mother and other humans. They come at night and sit beside me and sometimes hold my hand with their paws. There is no use of my life and I wish I get killed soon as the pain is not bearable. 

"It was the crowd making mundane purchase for the festival and didn't bother to give a look to someone waiting to die. No one shared a piece from their plate to feed the needy and expected prosperity in life. "

It is easy to ignore and ridicule but the real pride and enjoyment is in helping others.

I am 76 and my fate tortured me to the limits.

I was the most loved one in the family, my parents went to every saint and seer in Lahore they heard from others and asked for blessings to get a child. It was after the wait of eight long years they heard the cry of a baby in the house, before me all were born dead. I brought good luck and fortune in the house and after me, the family was blessed with four more healthy kids.

I was the pride and honour of the family. There were very few girls in the town who went to the school and I was the one getting the best education. The illiteracy of my parents didn’t stop them from getting their children educated. My father was a gold merchant and one of the richest and respected in the city. I was always surrounded by books which helped me create a world of what I wanted. By the age of seven I had studied what people study in their twenties. The wisdom provided by the books is invaluable and most of the decisions I have taken is from the learning from books.

People in my family had sensed the bad omens and we left the country before the bloodshed started in 1947. There was enough money to start a new business and the financial acumen of my learned father helped him establish a well and growing business in India. I continued my studies and experiments with the life. I was eight when we escaped the war and at fourteen I was asked to marry. The illness of the father and the kind approach of Amma forced me to say yes. I never believed in fate before marriage but the life had to show me what power it holds over humans.

I didn’t know cooking and never thought of even trying it. My parents never asked me to clean the house even. I thought life would be same like it was before marriage, my decisions, my books, wisdom, learning but within few years the great business of my husband crashed and we were bankrupt. The big house was taken away by the money lenders and we moved to a small hermitage. The giant family living in a small space and quarreling every night over petty issues.

There were no nuts in the breakfast now, there was no meals for some days. My husband was taken aback facing the fall and all his efforts to restructure were succumbed. By some means we gathered money which helped in feeding ourselves. I decided to pursue nursing course to have a better future but I couldn’t bear the cutting and killing of animals and that one wrong decision resulted into a big failure. I started working as a maid, washing utensils and cleaning house. Every penny I earned was filled with my patience to bear the harsh and cuss words.

There is fate son, there are things out of our control, I am 76 now and I am still working for the betterment of the family. My siblings are rich and happy and I was the one most knowledgeable in the house. I have two sons but if I stop earning the family will fall. I faced domestic violence and still have the marks on the body.

Life never stops, we cannot escape, one can simply smile at every problem to make it powerless. Don’t let your wrong decisions power your fate. Correct soon and don’t wait but never say you have complete control over life. At least I cannot say this, my smile is a veil to the wounds in my heart.

Kaleidoscope wheel: Life of a child

Daily clashes at home had created an aversion in her mind. After two years she came back with a hope to rejuvenate the family but nothing  ever worked. A dominant brother, an orthodox father and a kind hearted mother, family values and love seemed like something that only existed in neighbors house. Last night her brother went berserk and the outcome of the clamor was tears in everyone’s eyes.

Next day, to break the silence in the house the family decided visit India Gate at 10 in the night. Some places are known for night fun for families. The green gardens were filled with groups of people chatting and laughing crazily. Some old people with a silent smile, observing the movements around. Children juggling from one stall to the other. The sounds of laughter was buzzing in the silence of her mind and pushing the muddled thoughts out. She felt relieved.

A kaleidoscope at the roadside was catching the attention of the kids and formed a flock of juniors around it. Children were looking from the small openings on the hexagonal sides of the instrument. The excitement was visible in the giggling sound but there was one face which was dull and lost. A small boy who was spinning the wheel of the kaleidoscope and sitting on the opposite side of the crowd. He was watching people moving in groups, enjoying the mouthwatering dishes and laughing freely. Children pushing their parents to play with them.

The stillness on his face had a story but there was no one to listen. She ruffled his hair and talked to him for sometime. Sharing the sad is a power in itself and everyone needs it.

Beta thodi help karoge

The divine and devil originates from a common root and the seeds of both are present in every form .Life is surrounded by so much of fascinating things and almost everything lures. Craving and aversions go on making life complex. Many face the bad but some face the worst of it.

The huge market decorated with beautiful lights was pulling people like a magnet, filling colours in the life of those who get less time to be together and enjoy. Couples holding hands and smiling with elation. Children jiggling to the sweets shop and pushing parents for chocolates and cakes.Every table of cafe was occupied and wait list was increasing in numbers.The soft music was creating a trance with the cool breeze. Every day was celebrated like a festival there, small gatherings, people discussing their life and watching others enjoy.

But parking lot had a different story to tell. As we were passing through the cars a meek sound came “Beta thodi help karoge”. An old lady with thick spectacles and wearing dull suit was sitting with a support of a car. She had a major infection in her leg and even the bone was clear to the eye. Flesh has been eaten by the worms which were visible  from a distance. She was a victim of societal ignorance. She didn’t look like a beggar, may be she was thrown out by her family or may be she had none.

People moving around were avoiding to look at her. Their smile was their own, a selfish one. Suddenly the market appeared so dark, lights were dull and the decorations were haunting. The love visible there before became hypocrisy.

We can celebrate even after seeing someone in pain, avoidance is so easy. Share and care is an obsolete phenomenon. Even a small part of what is spent for enjoyment can change the life of those who need help but breaking the devil is not easy.

A 100 Square Feet Room

Half of the bed was piled up with the books and the other half was occupied by three people. A Bengali lady was cooking for the family. She entered the room and in no time space was created to make her sit on the bed. Mesmerizing smiles were seen on every face. Kids were questioning her like an interview and after every answer they looked at each other started giggling. She was served tea and offered some food which was one of the best she ever had. In no time she was a part of the family who loved being with others, sharing whatever they had and caring for no reason. The family bid goodbye and asked her to visit more.

As she stepped out and a distance was covered, her eyes were wet. She never welcomed anyone with elation. Never served others keeping herself hungry. Was it about the bigger house she owns and sleeps there alone. The aesthetic platter she had in every meal and ate alone. The next morning was the new life as she smiled seeing everyone. Sharing the food she made. Holding the kids of her maid in arms and kissing them. A messy room decluttered her life and brought her to bac.k to humanity

Just 10 Bucks for Dinner

  

Their eyes were showing thirst for the green fountain juice being poured in the glasses. The couple was old and skinny, may be in sixties. The lady looked extremely tired and traumatized, her sunken face and dried lips showed as if she was hungry from days. Weak limbs and wrinkled skin, might be walking from ages. The man wearing the scars of hardship on body and a muddy, ragged white shirt over it. Both gazing at the people gulping the chilling liquid and putting the empty glasses on the counter. Holding whatever assets they have in their life, a blanket, some utensils and few clothes.

The old man checked his pockets and got ten bucks out from the treasure. The couple was talking through eyes and the lady broke the silence and said, "we need to have something for dinner". They looked around and decided to take few chapattis and that was all the food they will have. The lust for the cold liquid was compromised for money, they turned around and started moving, don’t know where. Heads fallen and lost in their path.

A Street Outside Hazrat Nizamuddin

After the holy chants of reviving the miracles and beauty of allah it was the time to let the seers rest and enjoy the night in the remembrance of divine and putting the requests of devotees upfront. Dressed in glittery sheets and images of makkah printed on it, surrounded by red roses and millions of devotional threads, hundreds praying at the feet, looks like the door of heaven has opened and there lies the King of happiness showering blessings. A man with white dress and grey waistcoat, nicely embroidered prayer cap on his head closed the heavily decorated wooden doors. A huge stand was laden with incense sticks and the ashes appeared like falling stars.People leaving with a smile on their face, some murmuring the ending prayers, some waiting for the last glimpse of the pir.

Doors closed and all started moving on the back way.The street outside the Dargah saw the breach in devotion. Disfigured creatures waiting outside for the people to show their crippled limbs. A small girl with half burnt face, boneless leg and twisted fingers blocked the way and asked for money. People who were lost inside gave her ruthless expression, covered their face with a cloth and moved. Some asked allah to have mercy on her as if they had nothing to give. She spoke nothing and tears came out of her eyes and she looked at the sky as if asking someone ‘Are you happy now’? Her tears were more powerful than the seers inside. It could break the heart of those who believe in Love as God. Was it really the door of heaven whose aura has boundaries, is he only interested in those who can walk and offer a sheet? Does karma really play or its a myth?

Too Old To Be Maid

She knocks the door three times and never rings the doorbell as she thinks the bell doesn’t work because seventeen years back it wasn’t. She keeps on looking from the space between the door and the wall to see whether someone is coming or not. As soon as the door is open she starts searching for the newspaper in the room. Her white messed up hair, dark complexion, old green suit and decade old slippers makes her look like the first woman on the earth still surviving. Her body is more of wrinkles and less of skin, ear lobes lengthened like buddha with the weight of heavy earrings. One of her eye has a dissolved pupil but still she can find things before anyone. After spending one hour with newspaper she gets up half bent and dragging herself towards the kitchen.

A big mug full of tea with extra sugar is placed in her hands and she sips it while washing the dishes. She describes her life as a war for independence, how she eloped from home to marry someone and there her in laws threatened her to death. Her eyes are blood red while describing the scene and then tears come out with pain. The electronic gadgets fascinates her and she asks to play some old songs on it and her eyes remain unmoved while watching the romantic videos and she smiles at the end of the song with her eyes closed, may be thinking about her old romantic lovemaking days. After the work she searches for her slippers in the whole house and laughs at herself saying I am old now.

A girl still in the Womb

It was late by an hour and I was impatiently moving in and out with my heavy bag, people fixed on the platform and no place to sit and relax. The announcement of getting more delayed and the screeching sound of the moving trunks putting the patience on the test. I thrashed my bag on the floor and sat on it, staring at the display board which moved the destination far.

I saw her looking at me, deep, penetrating eyes, expressionless, innocent face, like a devil veiled in face of an angel. She moved like furious winds shattering the silence around her, pushing away the people, eyes filled with rage and numbness. An old lady came running to her, grabbed her hand tightly and pushed her to sit on the ground and placed a milk bottle in her mouth.

I asked the lady about the girl, she took a deep breath and started the tale with her age. The girl was just three years old and born with some serious imbalance in brain. Her mother left her and eloped with a guy and father committed suicide. The old lady was her grandmother, who with little resources was taking utmost care of “Jeena” from her birth. The girl might never have a normal life, she had no senses of hunger, love and happiness. What she felt was fear, under the effect of which she moved furiously.

Isn’t it difficult to take care of her? You have no one with you to support and she is a big responsibility. She replied in a polite tone, what I do is nothing in comparison to what she does everyday. She could sense my tears flowing, my low mood, pain and loneliness and whenever it happens, she hugs me tightly and the moment she releases me, I am free. She is not a normal girl, I could see God in her. She can’t speak a word but we can sense each other through eyes and touch. She never cried but I can feel her caged inside wanting to come out and fly. My children left me in pain but she took it all without a word. She is the vision of my future.

The lady was an example of ineffable patience and love and girl a perfect human in herself. Sometimes silence is a big healer.

A Fig Tree who ate it all

Rooted in the most narrow lane and about hundred years old, the great fig tree which mesmerized even the animals to stay close to it, embracing a big area with its wide and open figure and giving shelter to thousands of birds. Considered as the most scared and home to seven figures Gods, not allowed to be planted in home and said to possess a divine power to make any wish come true, the tree was served like Buddha. The trunk of the mystical home was covered with red threads which holds the wishes of those who visited it and believed in its power. Everyday it hosted hundreds of devotes who surrendered themselves to the tree and placed eatables to charm the God which later was consumed by the stray dogs.

I went there with my wishes rolled in the red thread and a platter to lure the omniscient tree. Chanting the mantras to put more power in the thread and thoughts, I saw a small kid crying and staring at the food at the feet of fig. The boy lived in a hermitage close to the tree. I went down on my knees and asked him what he wanted, he pointed to the platter in my hand. I surrendered my wishes to the hunger of a child and fed him through my hands. His smile was much more than what I would have got through my wishes.

There is no other means of happiness in this cosmos than helping those in need. The tree didn’t demand anything, for it the platter was a big waste and the whole picture was a reason to change the thought pattern. Breaking the superstitious behavior and putting faith in humanity.  

A boy named “Ladka”

Searching for a corner to relax the mental chaos in that new city, filled with remorse and suppressed emotions, I reached till the end of the lane and took a seat for sipping tea. Still lost in my daily words and rewinding the past to uncover what went wrong, I saw a boy with a broad smile on the face standing near me holding a glass of tea and he placed it with a keen look into my eyes. His presence melted my remorseful thoughts and broke the picture of past to confront the present. Observing him move to every table and pouring the tea in empty glasses and sharing that splendid smile.

Everyone there was calling him ladka and his response to the word was surprising, as someone is called by the name. I sipped it all and went to the owner and asked for the name of the guy and if others were trying to tease with the name. In a polite manner he said, even if they do, the auspicious smile won’t go. On inquiring more about him, he responded with a story of how he found him.

It was zero degree days of harsh and dry winters when he saw a boy sleeping on his contour in ragged clothes. He pushed him to wake him up and asked what was he doing there alone with no warm stuff on his body, the boy was cold and numb. He was offered a blanket and a cup of tea to get the warmth. He didn't reply to any of the questions but just to the word which became his name later. He observed me serving tea to the guests, washing the cups and started doing the same. Saying no him might have been inhuman at that time. When he came back finishing all and saw me smiling, the boy gave a surprising smile which has never been lost till now.

He spoke less but embraced all, spreading smiles with never ending zeal. The grace in his eyes was infectious and I took it with elation. The chaos and suppression just needed a gentle divine smile to vaporize. Being in present and simple was enough to avoid the cultured depressive attitude. 

My Grandma's Walker

Like an old snow covered mountain, meditating in deep silence with utmost peace and calmness, seasons come and go enriching the wilderness and bewitching it more. I was there after months seeing her getting more wrinkled and beautiful, her smile was serene and hands shaking while imparting blessings. She looked like old Buddha whose presence was enough to bring a gentle and pleasant breeze running over the body. Her thoughts were strong and knees weak, she would get up and bring something to welcome the children she loved. Her face reflected the pain every step would cause.

This time her walker was a bit different, some changes were done to hold a tray onto it, as both hands were busy in holding the walker. Whatever the pain could be, the love she holds would give her the courage to smile and do more. She was observing my silence which was tensed and eyes fixed to her steps. She is a mother of two sons and still she holds iron to support her, her cries were answered only when they get unbearable. She lost the strongest man of her life year ago and her journey became more annoying and heart melting. Life is just a survival at this age and can be torcherous too, this is like lifeless childhood when you intentionally forget everything to get rid of pain and agony that ignorance causes, you are cared by none, spirits diminish and thoughts get entangled.

She could hear the conversation I was holding to myself. Sitting next to me and holding my hand she said, this walker is a bigger support than anything else could be. It is always nearby and never says no to hold me and it gives me more freedom than I expected from my blood. It takes me far away from the negativity which was bearing when it was not here, sometimes material can support you better. The pain I bear is an experience that I will take away with me and no freedom and change can come without pain, so I enjoy that too. Life is too short when you try to suppress it but way too long thrill when you free yourself. Old age is an indication of life getting free from limits and boundaries. Yes I cry when I can’t bear more but it’s a part of life and important too and when it goes beyond, I get into the old memories of being a child running inside the house and it helps me relieve. Don’t let life put bad impressions on the memory, be clear and happy.

Her ageless experience could make anyone listen to her like a child observing her mother and the conviction she holds is timeless. May be old age makes one perfect in being self dependent, may be material and self are more reliable, her reasoning brought back the smile on my face.

Just a Minute Turban Man

I was high on the wheels, swinging with the wind which was cold and numb, the fog was dense and atmosphere queer. I was racing to reach on time, shivering but stiff, quick but alert. The path was clear to the distance I could see, even animals were hidden, scared, huddling each other for the warmth. The vision was directed by the rays falling down and lighting the path to run more.

A glimpse of something scattered on the road, may be a bike. I by passed it, giving no attention to what was there. Thoughts holding me back to see what was that, may be an accident and someone hopelessly waiting for the help. I paced up but lost to the thoughts which were trying to figure out the foggy scene. Hands working involuntarily to slow down and look back.  A man sitting on the road side with bike lying next to him.

I got down and moved towards the turban man who looked tensed, holding his head on his palms. Are you fine? I asked him. The furious face was visible, red eyes, filled with tears and throwing away the help with his angry words, go away, I don’t need anything, I am fine. I was more cold now and moving back was heavy and dull. I reached half the way and a heavy voice hammered my ear drums. I looked back and the turban man with a polite smile on his face said Thank you boy, I needed it. I reciprocated with the smile and moved away.

A simple thought of helping and caring can change the whole scenario. The turban man was an example of depressed life and a word of help changed his way in a minute. Be Human and help.

The Story of Maternity Ward

The anxious faces, trembling hands, craving eyes, all gathered outside the closed doors, hearing the loud cries and waiting for a new life to be detached and placed in their hands. The excitement to be a father was a thrill and with a deep breath she took birth. Obstetrician came out running with the quiet girl in her hands, pushing the anxiousness away and alerting everyone with her red face. The father followed the lady, almost running with her, the ward boy pushing him out. He could see the angel being placed in an incubator, oxygen mask put on her face, doctor thumping her heart and injecting the lifesaving fluids in her Nano thick veins.

The nervousness was rushing all through the body and the mother kept on asking about the baby, she is fine, a bit ill, you will see her soon, that’s what she was told. The father didn't move an inch away from the door, gazing at his daughter, praying in a low tone and salt water rolling down. Just waiting to hear her cry, nothing more was needed, the whole world stopped at the very moment and the prayers were answered, she took a deep breath and called her mother with a cry. He was on his knees now, never felt that happiness can way a make a way through cries and beating the death in order to live.           

Doctor came out with a divine smile and nodded her head. After three days with all tests going well he was allowed to move inside, not allowed to touch but seeing her from a distance. She was not the only one there, many beautiful and divine souls sleeping in complete silence. Every God in a different pose, sometimes moving the hands so gently as if to bless someone. The aroma there was holy and by no means one could think of leaving the room. He was elated and the incident broke the pattern of life he believed in and showed him the power of faith. For him the maternity ward was more like a temple and a life session.