I was just a small kid, when my mother used to drop me to the nearby school, and on her way back, attacked by the beggars in the streets who wouldn't let her go without serving them anything.
It was what they daily did, during traffic jams, they would clean other's cars, beg to buy something from them, and when some good person would want to throw something to eat to one of them, the whole flock would come, asking for much more.
It had become a difficult task to even think something good for them- let alone give them a few pennies or notes or food to fill up their stomachs. The poverty-stricken public in contrast to the surrounding rich residential area of Dwarka city was quite a depressing scenery. We felt bad, people around us felt bad, while some didn't have feelings at all.
Some were generous enough to give a coin to them while some would shoo them mercilessly.
Mother once pitied on a blind couple, the man holding a stick and the woman in tattered clothes holding him to feel the way to go on her way back home, as she began searching her purse to find a few notes to give them.
Her friend forbid her.
"Don't give them anything, you just don't know them."
Mom felt a ibt annoyed. They were poor and the needy. Why?
She didn't know. Yet she helped them out by offering the money in the "Katori" they had in their hands.
"Now that you have given them, just wait and watch what happens when the bus arrives." Her friend laughed and advised her.
My mother waited, as the bus arrived.
Who was just few moments ago blind? They ran in the direction of the bus without holding each other, just like normal people like you and me, and drove away somewhere, removing their make-up.
