Personal Essay
The Beggar Gave Away Something Priceless to Me
“Just as I took another bite, I heard a soft tap on my window.”
My hand goes out to stop the alarm as it almost starts to screech. I take a deep breath, my eyes still shut. My body not at all willing to make any movement as if moving the hand is good enough for now.
It is the same story each morning.
With a deep breath in and out I drag myself up and sit for some time. I feel as if the pillow is pulling my head back. I keep thinking about what will happen if I heed to the pillow’s cry. My eyes are still not open. But then, I see a crazier day ahead if I go back to sleep again. So, I slowly get out of bed as I tie up a messy bun.
Yawning, I walk into the kitchen like a pre-programmed robot. And just as if someone has pressed the fast-forward button, I start with my sequence of work starting with rearranging the dry dishes, putting water for rice, sorting the vegetables for the items that I have to cook, and on goes the list. All programmed.
The morning marathon begins and pans out as predictably as the rising sun.
The rush to pack three lunch boxes, waking my son, Rishi, and pushing him to get ready, urging my husband, Harish, to be ready so that Rishi reaches the bus stop on time, getting ready myself — all the while my eyes darting towards the clock with a frown as if it would take some pity and run a tad slower.
I finally step out of the house. 15 minutes late already. If only I would have got up when the alarm went off rather than thinking so much.
I wait for the lift and rush in as it comes, pressing the button to close. I shift restlessly as if that would speed up the lift. Finally, the lift reaches the destination. I walk to the parking lot and a wave of envy engulfs me as I look at the stay-at-home moms laughing and talking leisurely while some are doing their morning rounds. The luxury of time.
As I drive to my office, I think of my marriage, my job, husband, and future. One thought springs out from another as if they all have been stuffed into a jar and have bounced out the moment the lid opened. I feel a pang of guilt for being unable to do much for my parents, who are living alone. A sense of helplessness and guilt. My job is so demanding, it leaves me so little time to be with my son. His growing addiction towards gadgets and somewhat deteriorating grades worry me.
And the thing that troubles me a lot is the accusatory glances of Harish. I never understood the link. I did want to continue my job after Rishi but feel penalized for the same all the time. There is always an inherent undertone of explanation in my speech when something goes wrong in the house, which bothers me. Why? Would my staying at home magically solve everything or would it never happen in the first place?
And each time I expect some help from Harish or ask for it, there is usually an initial outburst of irritation before he does it ( or sometimes not ). That is more of a favor, reminded quite often in later times, than a responsibility to share.
A deep breath in and out. The thoughts are unending and recurrent.
I look ahead in the traffic, casually glancing at the long stretch of cars ahead. I approach the signal which takes so long to cross, I have named it my ‘breakfast signal’. I take out my wrap and have a bite. Munching thoughtfully, I look outside. As I see the people around I think of the different emotions each must be going through. Each face has a story behind it. Each fighting its own battle.
I take another bite as I remember of the upcoming Parent-Teacher meeting at school, which conspiringly coincides with a client meeting. As the traffic inches ahead, I struggle to decide which one to attend and which to reschedule. Can’t rely on Harish since he will be packing his bags anytime. He is as unpredictable as his tours.
But it was not so strained always. Life was so different in hindsight.
There was an abundance of love, laughter, and spontaneity. The wet towel on the bed looked so cute and the same towel shoots up my blood pressure now. The time I invested in searching for new recipes and experimenting each day just to see the surprise in his eyes, never comes now. Was it because I was not doing the job at that time? Should I quit?
Back to square one.
But what about the monthly installments for the houses and the exorbitant cricket coaching classes for Rishi. The exotic holidays and most importantly, my parents’ monthly medical bills.
Just as I take another bite I hear a soft tap on my window. I turn to see a short and old lady with tattered clothes and ruffled hair looking at me. She was pointing to something inside the car. I frown and look around to see what was on my seat. As I look back, the lady mimes eating. I look at my wrap, but it is already half-eaten. I possibly can’t give that. I was feeling bad. But something struck me and I quickly open my lunch box and take out two more wraps from it. I roll down my window and hand them over to the lady with a smile, deciding I would have my lunch in the canteen for one day.
The lady takes the wraps from my hand in a hurry. And as I look at her she gives me the most beaming smile I have ever seen on a human face! And then the old lady does something so sweet —
she blows me a flying kiss!
Very happy with what she got, she crosses over to the roadside and sits down to eat the wrap. Just as she takes the first bite, she looks at me again and gives me another of her beautiful smiles. I smile back and wave her bye.
But something has changed. I am smiling to myself. The lady’s smile has just stuck to my brain. I am unable to shake that happiness off.
I look back at the woman. She is happily eating the wrap. All consumed within it. She was right at the moment. Neither the heat nor the traffic noise nor the litter around troubled her.
The traffic starts moving and I start moving ahead. I give her one more glance at the lady, who is still eating.
As I drive away to my office, I still have the image of the smile and the flying kiss glued to my mind.
How could she be so happy with so little?
I pause to think of all that I have in my life. A husband, who is a good human being with strong ethics I respect, a healthy & loving child, loving & doting parents, a healthy self, a good job, own house, ability to do most of the things I can think of, being able to afford so many things — a life I mostly live my own way. There is so much in my life I should be thankful for. With all this and much more, all I can think of is my problems.
I feel as if suddenly a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My problems will never vanish, but I am filled with a great sense of gratitude for all that I have.
I will still have to figure out the solutions to the problems in my life but I will not be bogged down by them. I will fight one battle at a time while carrying the gratitude for all that I have.
I have reached the office by now, but not with the usual restlessness I feel. I was feeling so happy and light.
I see the frown on the face of my manager, but that does not bother me much today. I calmly go to my desk and sit down, a smile on my face.
I have found a gift in a place I least expected and from a person, I never thought had anything to give. The old lady has taught me to breathe and live in the present.
She was supposedly poor but she gave a priceless gift to me. The art of living.
