A Beggar Asked Me for Money And Changed The Way I Look at Life

This also taught me where to find real power.

It was the spring of 2005. I was returning from work. I was in a cab. The cab stopped on a red signal. It wasn’t very sultry that day surprisingly, perhaps there was a cool breeze, I don’t remember.

And here comes a beggar. A damn beggar — I thought to myself.

He kept on asking for money but I turned away avoiding any eye contact. This was normal at crossings. Usually, the beggars would come and keep on asking for money until either you give them something or the signal turns green.

Sometimes if you gave them something, the next group would immediately come to you and start harassing you.

Why I say harassing is because some of them were really nasty, they would try to touch you if the windows were open or they would curse you if you didn’t give them money.

Once some children (yes they even teach children to beg) cursed me that I would surely fail my exams. Another time a woman threatened me my husband would abandon me soon and I would be in her situation.

I was pissed off and tired of this nuisance and wondered why they couldn’t find work instead of begging.

Besides, I wasn’t in their situation, I had work, I had a comfortable home, I had money, I could afford a taxi after work. I felt proud of myself and my situation. I had the bragging right — or so I thought.

Now, I wasn’t super-rich, I wasn’t even rich. But I definitely lead a comfortable life. And I was in a way better situation than most people around me, especially if you consider financial freedom as a tool to measure success or power.

I had tasted success and the flavor of corporate culture too early in my life. And that wasn’t because I pulled a few strings or I had contacts. On the contrary, I had to overcome tons of challenges and worked pretty damn hard to reach where I was already.

My roots were very humble. My father was an immigrant. He became an immigrant in his own country. Weird! Hah?

When the British rule came to an end, undivided India was divided into India and Pakistan based on religion. The Muslims went to Pakistan and the Hindus went to India.

My father was just about two when he moved to India with his widowed mother, an elder sister, and a younger brother along with an aunt because the part where they lived went to East Pakistan (and now Bangladesh), which was geographically nowhere near Pakistan!

All of them had a lot of struggles to do to be where they were at that time. But by the time I was born, most of that struggle was gone. We lived in a comfortable home.

My father and both his siblings were doing financially well, my father was with the Indian navy, my uncle with the merchant navy, and my aunt worked at the marine engineering college.

Despite all these, we had a simple life, we didn’t have an abundance of gifts or expensive stuff. My father and his siblings never forgot their humble origins and struggles.

My father often told me stories of how he went to school (they were extremely challenging) or how he got an education. My aunt used to tell me her life stories too, how she escaped rape or murder so many times in her life.

So even though I never faced that poverty or struggle, I remembered the past and paid respect to hard work.

Perhaps that’s why I detested begging.

And it’s not that I was oblivious to the condition of the people with financial (and other) challenges or that I didn’t care.

I remember the time when I had just started to work, there was a very elderly lady who used to sell some stuff on the footpath. I don’t remember what she sold but definitely, that wasn’t enough to even let her buy food daily.

I felt sad that at this age she had to work so hard to just survive while she actually should be retired and enjoy the rest of her life. I used to chat with her every time I saw her while coming back home.

And every time I just gave her way more than she ever asked for. Her smile after she saw the note was priceless. I wondered what I could do to help her. And then one day I didn’t see her anymore. I kept returning to that place but never saw her after that.

It pained me to think that I didn’t do anything. I wondered and thought a lot about how I can contribute to social changes, how poverty can be eradicated. I even wondered if I could join an NGO (non-governmental organization) and do something, however insignificant that might be.

Having said all these things, I definitely did feel a hint of pride over the years when I saw I was doing better than many other people around me. This was more prevalent as I climbed the corporate ladder and saw only the sky as the limit.

I would look down upon those mothers who used to sit outside their childrens’ schools and just chat or knit. I thought what a wastage of time and life. I would look down upon those women ‘who lunch’ or spend time in kitty parties.

I sympathized with them and felt better about my situation.

I wanted to travel, I wanted to see the world, I wanted to earn a lot of money so that I could enjoy life’s luxuries.

I knew money has power. I wanted that power. Financial freedom also elevated my deflated self-worth. Working for an MNC increased your worth in the eyes of others.

Some of my classmates in the University who didn’t give a shit about me, started calling me or contacting me for a referral after they came to know I was working for one of the top tier companies.

I felt good. And probably that made me a snob.

So here I was on that crossing on the road while avoiding the beggar and literally praying that the signal will turn green soon.

I wasted my prayers as such small things I realized.

At that very moment, the signal turned green, as if God just listened to my prayer. I was dreading the curse which would come any moment now that the taxi driver started his engine.

And just before the taxi driver pulled away, the beggar spoke softly but clearly — God bless you, my child!

I was just stunned. I didn’t expect this. I turned around but there were already so many cars behind I couldn’t see him anymore. I wanted to get down but the taxi had crossed the signal and it wasn’t possible to pull over just like that.

Tears rolled down my eyes. Shame and guilt tormented me.

But more importantly, I wondered how that ‘damn beggar’ could show that amount of compassion towards me who ignored his pleas completely and didn’t even look at him.

All these years, I thought of myself as a kind and compassionate person — but not anymore.

Had I been in his place, I surely would have cursed him just like all those other beggars. Now I got why all those people cursed me. They were frustrated and that was completely normal.

But how come a person with no money, no home, and no hope can be so forgiving as if he had attained enlightenment.

That was real power, not my fake pride or salary.

That incident changed me and my life entirely. I realized real power lies in my heart.

Thank you for reading.

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