The author - Anant Utkarsh, shares his real-life experience about giving hope to someone when he most needs it.
I was waiting outside Cinemax for its cash counter to open up. I knew I was going to see some really seducing curves on Katrina's body, still I could not resist myself from seeing those I found on hot girls standing outside. Believe me, Nagpur is no less than Delhi,Mumbai and Pune when it comes to charisma that girls have.
Suddenly a shaggy figure loomed out of that happening crowd. I could make out that he was older than me but still quite young, may be in 30’s and he looked physically alright.
‘Saheb! Kuch hai kya dene ko?’ He said.
My friends were late. It is really tough on your part to pay for ten people when each ticket costs 120 bucks, no matter how well you know that each one of them will pay their share afterwards. We hostelers, do not believe even in down payments, we strongly believe in debts and hate being on the wrong side. I was not in my best mood.
‘I have but I won’t give you.’ I said.
‘Why?’ He asked.
‘Why should I and who the hell are you to ask me why?’ I said disgustedly.
‘Am I a fool? Do you think you can put on torn filthy clothes, with bare foot, a bit of dust on hair and a bent back can help you beg. You are bloody young. Why don’t you find a job for yourself?’ I screamed at him.
I saw his eyes moistened while my face turned red. He took his eyes off me. I saw his tears getting dense.
‘Nahi milta saheb, kya karu?’ He said. I was angry and helpless - angry with this man, for he was not poor but still begging. I was willing to help him but not the way he demanded for. I was angry with my country – India. I was angry with myself, not for making him cry but for seeing him beg. Perhaps, I was angry with God. I tell you, perfect blend of such feelings can burst your nerves like anything.
I took a deep breath and said, ‘Bhaiya! Do you know who is a poor man?’
‘One who has no money.’ He replied.
‘No. Poor is one who is not loved. You are not poor. I love you.’ I said.
I placed a fifty rupee note in his hand and said, ‘Please do not beg. It hurts.’
He took it with a gentle smile. Rubbing his eyes, he walked away swiftly. I was again busy with my curve tracing. After a few steps he stopped, returned and gave back my fifty rupees.
‘Aap bahot ache hain.’ He said.
‘You love me. I am not poor even. See, I am as good as you.’ I said happily.
‘Do you know what is one’s biggest wealth?’ I asked.
‘Love’ He replied.
‘No. It is hope. And no one can steal it from you.’ I said.
He hugged me and said, ‘I won’t beg anymore.’
People say affluence creates poverty.I think it is not affluence but paucity of hope that causes poverty.
Yes, I call this story ‘Mutual Induction’. It induced hope both in him and in me. In him, a hope to earn his living with respect and rise of this hope induced back in me, a hope to see my country free from poverty, where everyone lives happily with dignity. That day, I swore I would never give money to a beggar. Rather, I would give him ‘his hope’.
Two days later I saw him working at a refuelling station in Shankar Nagar Square. I looked up and thanked god. I don’t know whether god will forgive me for the tears I gave him.
P.S-I was never good in physics practicals,but this time I did well.
P.S– He had nice triceps. I envy him.
P.S– Curve tracing has always been my favourite topic both in books and outside them.
Written By : Anant Utkarsh
