The Begger

Since the alms, collected through conventional mode, became minimal and hardly enough for sustenance, the beggar started begging from passengers travelling in long distance trains, running between big cities and moving at high speed with limited stoppages.These are vestibuled trains through which many compartments can be covered (except the air conditioned ones) and thereby enhances the scope of collecting the materialistic form of compassion trickling from the tight-fisted hands of passengers. Some giving with utter disgust, just to get rid of the nagging or to show-off his class difference from the rest of the passengers of the cubicle. Some drop a coin in the begging bowl with an air and pang of parting with his Kohinoor and there are some who join their palms, after dropping a small piece of coin, as if to remind the almighty to register this accrued virtue against his/her name so that it may be taken into account at the time of final judgement. But most of them look at the begging bowl as the carrier of the germs of some deadly disease and become busy in shielding themselves, vehemently waving their hands and keeping their breathing process stopped, as long as possible. Rest of them will turn their faces towards the window and start criticising and blaming the Government for ignoring this disturbing phenomenon.

All these acts make no mark on the beggar--it is almost like the same script, shown at a Cinema Hall, in matinee, evening and night shows, days and nights. But, unlike the script in cinema it does not change after a few weeks. It goes on..the same script goes on and on..although the faces change,compartments change...trains change...as if to all the passengers,before en training, a crash course in acting is being meted to them.The beggar boards a train, crosses a couple of stations and when all the available compartments are explored and done with, there comes the time to detrain and catch a train in the opposite direction. In between these acts there lies the process of dodging and greasing the palms of the guardians of laws and rules....the people who generally leave certain aspects like compassion, morality and similar petty intricacies behind them, safely closed in a certain vault the nature of which are known only to those creatures.The booking of a ticket could never be there in the scheme of things of the beggar.

The uneventful, monotonous life of the beggar was going on except on one day a man in police uniform caught hold of the beggar in a station. All the common tricks of escape fell flat and the beggar was dragged to the office of the senior officer in-charge.The herded crowd in the room started thinning out,the cases disposed--either fined or taken to custody.The beggar was then pushed forward to face the menacing officer.Where from you are coming and where do you stay?No answer, Silence. Name? Silence. Nationality? Silence.Are you deaf and dumb? More silence.The officer stood up from his chair, roaring like a caged tiger. As he was about to give the order, he gave another look to that mute statue with tears rolling down the cheek. He paused for a moment, slid back on his chair and set aside his pen.The colour of his face changed. He asked the sentry to let the beggar go..unpunished.

After all some one who is already punished by God perhaps deserves some compassion, he argued with his conscience for a fleeting moment before moving to the next case.

The Beggar was an Androgyne.