The Beggar and I

chillibreeze writer — Sharmila Sanjeev

Shooing away the beggar from my side was I,
My lofty nose shriveled with disgust, but why...
Warm, comforting shoulders held me up in despair,
But not a soul did see the miserable man cry...
Wait I do for every wonderful day to begin,
Prays he each moment that he die...!!!

Why, oh why is he so different from me,
Why is my life so comfortable, his so awry?
Nature, in its humanity for his status does not care,
The moon and stars that lull me to sleep,
Also soothe his wondering, aching eye...!!!

Shards of cloth barely covering his emaciated body…matted hair covered with dust…pleading eyes boring into one’s soul…the piteous figure gives birth to conflicting emotions in me. I am trapped between my desire to reach out to a fellow human in his hour of need, and my revulsion at a person who chose to beg rather than to eke out a living for himself.

Even as I find myself eyeing the latest mobile in the market or the most exquisite stole studded with Swarovski, there is a man scavenging at the garbage bin for a few measly morsels of stale food. The ruthless fetters of poverty bind him to a life of hopelessness and helplessness. Malnourishment and disease are his demanding chaperones for life. My destiny endowed me with the warm environs of a home, while his destiny relegated him to the cold, bleak cobblestones of a filthy footpath. With a misty eye my heart goes out to him, but what pulls back my outstretched hand?

Why do I find myself looking at the beggar with repugnance, when all he asks of me is some pity? Is it because begging is no longer a last resort for the destitute? Begging alas, is now in most cases, akin to a profession. Children snatched away from the loving arms of their parents, become the employees of the gangsters in this nauseating trade. Limbs are brutally broken, their innocent faces savagely mutilated and tongues loped off. All this, so that they earn the sympathy of the passersby on the streets and fill the coffers of their sadistic employers. Then, there are those, who egged on by their indolence, find begging an undemanding way of getting two square meals a day. Helping these strata of beggars then becomes a transgression I refuse to indulge in.

Discerning between the people who are in genuine need of help and those who make a mockery of our sympathy, becomes a Herculean task. The frontiers of humanity are invaded by these pirates of the modern day. Pirates, I say, because they have robbed me of my desire to express compassion towards those who are in desperate need of it. However, they have yet been unable to stop an occasional tear. A tear that often wonders why I am so privileged and the beggar so impoverished. A tear that at times wants to challenge the hand of fate by removing my stole to cover his trembling frame. A tear that often reminds me that I am still humane in this callous world.

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Chillibreeze's disclaimer: This is a contributed article and was published on Chillibreeze in July, 2010. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not reflect the views of Chillibreeze as a company. Chillibreeze has a strict anti-plagiarism policy. Please contact us to report any copyright issues related to this article. The relevance of the facts and figures cited (if any) could change after a period of time.

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—About our writer:

Being a person who trains MBA aspirants towards a bright and successful future in the business and corporate worlds, Sharmila Sanjeev finds herself able to relate to and reach out to the sensibilities of keen minds. Helping young minds to express their creative thoughts has also aided her to hone her own skills in the art of verbal communication. Teaching the finer nuances of writing argumentative and creative essays has enhanced her creativity and legibility.

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