The Beggar (Just a piece of it anyway)

It was a moment like no other. I must admit, I believe at that point and time, I must have just slipped into oblivion. The atmosphere was imbued with shades of gray. Though the air was crisp, I believed it to be the point when the world was finally ready to implode.

There I sat in my car half flipping through the pages of a novel, half looking out at the road in front of me. Suddenly, right before me, a beggar walked up to my car window. Now this is not an uncommon sight here in India, but the proceeding occurrence was. You see, for some strange reason, on this morning, I did remember to grab change off of my dresser so that I could have it to give to someone less fortunate than I; someone more desperate and in need of feeding than myself. For just one person, I have a lot. But for so many, these beggars often have so little.

The beggar knocked on my tinted window and I rolled it down. As is customary and often necessary, the beggar began to rattle something off in Hindi while holding a baby in one hand and pulling the other hand to her mouth denoting she would like money for food. As she looked me in the eyes and went into her speech, she stopped abruptly.

A sharp look of pain came over her face and she began to back peddle. In very poor English, she looked at me and said, "Sir you very poor!" She reached into her bucket and pulled out a 5 rupees piece and handed it to me. She then proceeded to back peddle again as she walked away from me. When she reached the front bumper of the car next to mine, she turned and rapidly weaved through the cars to get back to the sidewalk.

As my driver and I sat in traffic, from where she had reached the side of the road she was now standing there staring at me. I could not believe what had just happened to me. What did this lady mean by I was "very poor?" I wasn’t poor. Was it not her, barefoot with baby in tow whom walked up to my SUV begging for money? Were not my clothing pressed fresh from the cleaners and smelling nice and her clothes torn, tattered and dirty?

What was her basis for comparison here? How could she possibly say that I was poor? Finally, the light changed and our car pulled off. My driver sat there as if he didn’t take notice or understand the interchange that just took place. And I was comfortable with that, because though I wanted to ask him to explain what just happened, I don’t think I would have gotten a satisfactory answer.

The car rattled and lurched forward across the uneven terrain. There I sat. Semi-dazed, semi-composed, but only because I felt I had to be. I believed at that point in time, if I had succumbed to the feelings I wanted to feel after that interchange with the beggar, I would have crumbled on the spot. Rattle and lurch. The car began again and I could feel the car’s gears shift under my body. As we drove, I began to tilt my head toward the window to see us drive past life.

As I looked out of the window, I was in complete and utter awe by what I saw. Each building we drove past began to implode and crumble. Huh? What was happening? I leaned up to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a delusion caused by my head leaning against the headrest as the car rattled and lurched along. It was truly happening. At some point, my driver sped up to get around this rickety old auto-rickshaw. However, as he sped up, so did the implosions and crumbling. Destruction was following me.

We came to a light. I shifted my body in my seat so that I could look back at all the destruction we had passed. If at all possible, I was moreso in awe by what I saw next, than seeing each of the buildings crumbling next to me. As I looked back for the destruction, it was nowhere to be found. In its stead? I saw rows and rows of golden and brick palaces. The streets were now clean and paved evenly. What was happening here?

I looked to my immediate left. Right there, through my window, I could see it. I could see the divide between the destruction and the golden and brick palaces. It seems everything I would come to see, would be destroyed. And left behind were beautiful edifications concocted of gold and brick. The next thing I saw scared me. I blinked twice. With each successive blink, she was closer to my car. It was the beggar I had seen about 4 kilometers back. She walked up to the car again and said, "See? You are very poor. You have money. You have no faith. I see it."

What was this lady talking about? "She’s crazy," I thought.

"You speak of beauty, but do you see beauty." Do you wake up each day thinking you see beauty or ugly things here in India?"

Man, her English was a lot better than I thought.