THE LIFE OF A BEGGAR
Not being accepted even in a slum a beggar leads his life on the foot path. He is embedded to a place six feet by two feet a few yards before the road signal. In his tattered clothes he is a symbol of utter poverty in the country. He may be seen in a bush shirt too — all decorated with patches. The pyjama too competes with the upper dress. The more the patches the bigger a beggar is.
The poor beggar has no relatives. He has none to depend upon and none to show his affection upon. He is a human being just in name. His only companion is a dog who is faithful to him and receives his affection. It guards him and his meager belongings when he goes for his morning calls or to fetch food with the money that he collects. The dog shares food with him.
The signal is red. There is a line of cars on the road. It will take those two minutes to get the green. It’s the opportune moment for the beggar. Within these two precious minutes he will tackle five to six cars. Too many whisk him away. But the lady in a glamorous dress won’t. He knows her weakness. Moreover the road leads to an important historical monument. Many cars have foreigners. The lady and the foreigner throw to him whatever they find in their pockets—from a rupee to a ten rupee note— sometimes— cakes and sandwiches too.
Begging is his profession. He has to be a professionalist. He has to grease the palm of all those who help him in begging. Otherwise begging is a crime and he may be behind the bars. The policeman collects a five rupee note from him every night. So does a man from the corporation.
Lo! The beggar is found dead one night. The policeman leaves him there and reports at the police station. A few passersby surround him. The Sub Inspector arrives. The articles are sorted out. The poor beggar with tattered clothes had only a thousand in his pillow together with Indira Vikas Patra worth Rs. 50,000. The poor beggar!
