On the busy market road, on a stretch of almost 1 km, the hand cart fruit hawkers were lined up neck to neck. Mangoes and peaches were ruling the day. I was moving from one to another trying to buy the best at the lowest price. A good bargain, however small, moves the customer satisfaction and happiness index quite high. Tailing me was my kid engrossed chatting on his mobile. Wife was sitting in the car.
Almost out of nowhere I saw a frail shabby figure walking up the road. My eyes were just stuck on the man and something made me speechless. He was old, 70ish may be, carrying a large but apparently light cheap plastic bag on his week shoulders and he was walking with confident strides. There was something different about him. He was blind.
With the help of his stick he was walking so confidently as if he knew the road like the back of his hand and could walk the road blindly, literally. No pun intended at all.
Something about him wanted me to help him desperately. Usually I am not the one to give money to beggars but something about this one made me dip into my pocket immediately. I opened my purse and couldn’t find anything less than a 100 rupee note. My natural instinct was to pull out a note but the conditioned human in me stopped me; the same instinct that pushes me for small but feel good bargains with street hawkers.
I shouted to my kid to quickly run to the car and fetch a 10 or 20 Rupee note from his mom. I don’t know why I was panicking as the blind man moved closer to me. A sense of helplessness and a desire to help was creeping on me simultaneously. On the other hand my wife was struggling to find her purse, find money in that and eventually find me peace.
The blind man had crossed me by now and suddenly a middle aged guy on a scooter stopped in front of him. The scooter guy also dipped in his pocket. Something special about the blind man definitely.
I almost pulled the 100 rupee note out of my pocket when my kid shouted ‘mom’s found a 10 rupee note’. Bad luck. Mine or his, don’t know.
I asked my kid to run to the blind man, who had moved ahead of us by now, and ‘holding his hand with respect give him the money’. The scooter guy also got down from the scooter simultaneously and offered some money to the blind man with respect. My eyes were fixed on the blind man. Nothing else existed in that moment. There was something truly special about him. He didn’t come across as a beggar though by his attire he appeared to be one.
Suddenly I saw the blind man pushing away the hands of my kid and the scooter guy. He was literally throwing their hands away. He was furious. He was agitated. He was refusing to take money. He was refusing to be treated like a beggar.
In that mild skirmish he turned around for a moment and I could see immense hurt in his body language. His pride was badly hurt and despite being blind I could see that in his eyes. He didn’t like being taken as a beggar.
Despite his condition, despite his clearly visible need for help, he was no beggar. He was a man with the kind of self respect I had come across after a long long time. I was standing transfixed as my kid and the scooter guy returned quite amused by the incident themselves.
I have come across a lot of relatively well to do neighbourhood slum kids and families begging shamelessly. Yet here was a man who was challenged with sight but not with vision. I am sure a little money would have helped him but he would rather earn it.
I saw the blind man disappearing in the crowd with ever so confident strides; his stick being his best friend. I wanted to apologise to him for hurting his pride but I was so shaken with the incident that I couldn’t move. Gathering myself I got into the car and we all drove back home in silence.
I have been praying for him since then and asking for forgiveness. Even as I am penning this down I can see his body language, I can see into his eyes. They were hurt, badly hurt. What an eye opener a blind man turned out to be.
Almost out of nowhere I saw a frail shabby figure walking up the road. My eyes were just stuck on the man and something made me speechless. He was old, 70ish may be, carrying a large but apparently light cheap plastic bag on his week shoulders and he was walking with confident strides. There was something different about him. He was blind.
With the help of his stick he was walking so confidently as if he knew the road like the back of his hand and could walk the road blindly, literally. No pun intended at all.
Something about him wanted me to help him desperately. Usually I am not the one to give money to beggars but something about this one made me dip into my pocket immediately. I opened my purse and couldn’t find anything less than a 100 rupee note. My natural instinct was to pull out a note but the conditioned human in me stopped me; the same instinct that pushes me for small but feel good bargains with street hawkers.
I shouted to my kid to quickly run to the car and fetch a 10 or 20 Rupee note from his mom. I don’t know why I was panicking as the blind man moved closer to me. A sense of helplessness and a desire to help was creeping on me simultaneously. On the other hand my wife was struggling to find her purse, find money in that and eventually find me peace.
The blind man had crossed me by now and suddenly a middle aged guy on a scooter stopped in front of him. The scooter guy also dipped in his pocket. Something special about the blind man definitely.
I almost pulled the 100 rupee note out of my pocket when my kid shouted ‘mom’s found a 10 rupee note’. Bad luck. Mine or his, don’t know.
I asked my kid to run to the blind man, who had moved ahead of us by now, and ‘holding his hand with respect give him the money’. The scooter guy also got down from the scooter simultaneously and offered some money to the blind man with respect. My eyes were fixed on the blind man. Nothing else existed in that moment. There was something truly special about him. He didn’t come across as a beggar though by his attire he appeared to be one.
Suddenly I saw the blind man pushing away the hands of my kid and the scooter guy. He was literally throwing their hands away. He was furious. He was agitated. He was refusing to take money. He was refusing to be treated like a beggar.
In that mild skirmish he turned around for a moment and I could see immense hurt in his body language. His pride was badly hurt and despite being blind I could see that in his eyes. He didn’t like being taken as a beggar.
Despite his condition, despite his clearly visible need for help, he was no beggar. He was a man with the kind of self respect I had come across after a long long time. I was standing transfixed as my kid and the scooter guy returned quite amused by the incident themselves.
I have come across a lot of relatively well to do neighbourhood slum kids and families begging shamelessly. Yet here was a man who was challenged with sight but not with vision. I am sure a little money would have helped him but he would rather earn it.
I saw the blind man disappearing in the crowd with ever so confident strides; his stick being his best friend. I wanted to apologise to him for hurting his pride but I was so shaken with the incident that I couldn’t move. Gathering myself I got into the car and we all drove back home in silence.
I have been praying for him since then and asking for forgiveness. Even as I am penning this down I can see his body language, I can see into his eyes. They were hurt, badly hurt. What an eye opener a blind man turned out to be.
God bless him.
Amen.
