Iam sitting under a tree in this hot sun, waiting for someone to drop a coin. Yes, I am a beggar. Not a born beggar, but a brought-up beggar. Looking back to where I started. My dad was working in a rice mill in that arid village, where the mill owner is everything for everyone there. Dad died after inhaling husk in the mill for several years. He died young, though. Mom was given a job there until she quit, to escape from the mill owner’s harassment. To get away from mill owner’s hunger, we had to live with our own hunger. Well, yeah I had no chance for schooling as I was condemned as an evil son who caused father’s early death.


To save my mom from chronic coughing, I tried a job in the only thatched restaurant in our village. I was a table cleaner along with another kid whose mom was a “friend” of the owner. He cost me my job by stealing from owner’s cash box. The blame came on me as his mom told the owner “my son is as clean (!) as me”. I had no choice than to get beaten up and thrown out of the village. My mom had no strength to defend me and I still remember the looks in her face that day. Her face was begging me to run away from that village and find a fortune. Atleast, that’s what I assumed from her looks and that’s what I did. I ran away to the town to find my fortune there. I walked around looking for some fortune. The town amazed me. The cars, buildings, people and everything. What keeps them so busy? What makes so many vehicles to ply around? I passed through so many shops, restaurants, houses and offices where no one even noticed me. I was wondering if anyone would know that I didn’t eat for days, that I didn’t bathe for days. I was longing for love and care more than food. As I passed through some houses, I saw that even pet dogs have the love and care from their owners. What happened to a human being like me? I felt like crying. I did. I cried sitting under a tree. I cried until I felt weak and dry. I could see many passers-by. No one cares I am crying. No one cares if I am weak. Why should they? I am nobody for anyone.

Then, I heard a fling of a coin. A coin dropped near my feet. I looked up and saw an old man passing by, even without looking at me. I wondered if he dropped that coin. I guess, he did. Hey, what is he doing? Why? I wondered, why? It took time to realize. My god, did he think I am a beggar. Yes, he did. I wanted to call him and tell that I am not a beggar. That I am not sitting here for money. But, I was so weak and couldn’t raise my voice. I looked at him like he hit my dignity. He was gone through the crowd, out of my site. His coin was there, lying next to me. I was looking at the coin. My mind was empty, my head was empty. Above all my tummy was empty. What do I do now? Am I a beggar? Do I look like a beggar? Did I come for this to the town? Is it what my mom wanted me to do here? Is it what is called a fortune? YES, was the only answer that flashed through mind for all my own questions.

I had no choice. With tears filled in my eyes, I picked up the coin. I felt the coin was so heavy as my heart. I did thank the old man for offering me a new career, unknowingly. My parents couldn’t give me food, clothes, education and a place to live in. This man has given my a career. I am happy that I am one of those beggars “Made in India”.

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