Begging, an unconventional way of life, establishes its presence with an unwavering grip on temples, railway stations, bus stands, and other bustling hubs of human activity. In these domains, a distinct breed of beggars emerges, often characterized by intelligence and professionalism, strategically targeting running trains and thriving amidst the urban hustle. The management of begging in metropolitan areas and on trains typically falls under the control of formidable muscle mafias, extending their influence even to the subways of New York.
Reflecting on my college days, a unique encounter with the world of beggars unfolded during the extended stoppage of my college bus near the renowned Kali temple in the city. This pause offered passengers ample time to visit the temple for prayers, a ritual I too observed during examination days. Positioned at the temple's entrance were beggars seeking alms, and among them, one individual captured the devout attention of worshippers.
This man, aged around 60, bore the effects of polio, rendering his legs impaired. Moving with difficulty, he relied on his chappal-strapped hands to propel himself forward. Despite his physical challenges, he exuded a generous spirit. Whenever students like me expressed inability to offer alms, he responded with a smile, blessing us for success in our examinations. On one early morning return from a tour, I witnessed him arriving by rickshaw to his usual spot near the temple gate.
As life unfolded, post-graduation led me to a different town, and a few years later, a nostalgic visit to my old habitat prompted a return to the temple. However, the beggar who had once left an indelible impression was conspicuously absent. Inquiring with a nearby shopkeeper, I discovered the beggar's demise. To my surprise, further conversations unveiled an astonishing revelation – he had departed this world as a millionaire. The once-lame beggar now owned 20 rickshaws, operated in the city. His assets included three significant buildings in both the city and its suburbs, securing a comfortable future for his well-placed children.
My new residence was not immune to the presence of beggars, and among them, a towering, robust figure stood out. Cloaked in minimal attire with a bag slung over his shoulders; this black beggar made early-morning visits to our home. His voice, resonating in his native dialect, echoed through the air, imploring, "O Malik maai, Bhikha milok nee (O master! O mother! Give me alms)." This ritual unfolded with a two-minute interval, punctuated by his persistent calls. If his initial plea went unanswered, it transformed into a commanding request by the third call. After that, he would start muttering and move to the next residence. The shrillness of his voice ensured that someone among us would rise from bed, attempting to pacify him before the inevitable third call.
The frequency of his visits lacked a set pattern, occurring sporadically – at times daily, sometimes weekly, and occasionally after a month. His chosen recipients were selective, and once he secured what he sought, he would conclude his visit and retreat to his designated spot. Observing his behaviour, it became evident that he was not of the hoarding type, merely seeking what he needed before moving on. Few months later, he faded into oblivion.
When my children moved to the most sought-out education hub in Pune, I had to frequent Pune to meet them occasionally. I had to change my train at Rourkela station. While going, the changeover took two hours at night. While returning, it sometimes extended to three hours in the early morning because the detached bogies waited for being attached to the incoming master train.
I will never forget two things about those days' journey. There was a beggar. He was a tall, black, not-so-handsome young man walking with a crutch to balance his lame leg. He also wore dark glasses; perhaps he had some ailment in the eyes. He was not blind. He wore a long, smelly Kabuli kurta (shirt), enough to cover his entire body. His only good leg was visible. This beggar entered the bogie as soon as the train stopped. He started yelling in full volume some godly bhajans. The voice was so hoarse and unmusical that passengers had to yield from their deep slumber and gave him some alms. He moved ahead with the same jarring voice.
Synchronizing with the beggar’s departure, the tea vendor made his entry. A well-dressed, lean and thin young man had a strange vocabulary to promote his tea. He used to yell, ”Kharaab chai, Kharaab Chai (Bad tea, bad tea)!” His tea used to be very good; hot, little sugar, and sprinkled with cardamom. Passengers already aroused by the beggar songs eagerly bought tea from the vendor.
I had to frequent this return train journey 5 to 6 times in a span of 3 years. I became accustomed to these two regular visitors. Early morning did not allow probing further about them. One thing became clear. They were doing their business in tandem.
On one such journey, when the train stopped for two hours for marshalling of bogies in early morning I felt an urge to smoke a cigarette. I got down from my bogie and moved towards a park laid down between the platforms. The park had two or three benches sprawled amongst full-grown bushes and trees. I settled down on the nearest bench available and lit my cigarettes. I began surveying the Park. The ambience was heart-warming. At a distance, a young man in his shorts was doing yoga. I was impressed. His Surya-namaskaar” was worth watchable. The man finished his yoga. After a while, he walked passed me like a man in a hurry looking straight ahead. But to my dismay, he was on crutches. He had only one good leg. He was wearing the same long Kabuli kurta. I was dumbfounded. Later, in the train, he was doing his business as usual. This joker must have some good reason for wearing such masks. I left the matter open for my future journey.
In the grand tapestry of life, where destinies are woven by circumstance and choice, these beggars, with their resilience and unexpected trajectories, challenge
the notion that one's station in life is predetermined. Technology has transformed begging, offering new avenue of opportunities. They can now reach out to potential donors through social media, messaging apps, and online platforms. Online crowdfunding platforms allow beggars to share their stories and seek financial assistance directly from a global audience. Beggars can now accept digital payments via mobile wallets, making transactions more convenient for donors. Fortunes may change, and beggars can indeed be choosers too.
