After my meeting with him, I was forced to turn to the almighty and ask, why people are born poor? What is his judgment on poverty? Why are not people rewarded solely on the hard work they put in and why do some enjoy the fruits of their guardians’ labour.
He looked at me with anticipation. Waited for me to come close by to him. As I was about to turn towards the way leading to my car, he put a step forward with his hands reaching out and said “Hum chai piyega”. (I will drink tea). Casually and not understanding what he meant to say, I said “toh piyo” (So drink tea). Having workload in my mind, I didn’t understand what the meaning was for him to tell me that he wants to drink tea. Without saying anything further, he made a gesture of eating food with his hand which later struck me that, he was begging. My initial reaction was no. I firmly believed handing over money to beggars would do them no good. No matter how much they earn through this way, they would still resort to begging. I looked at him with attitude from top to bottom and saw him to be a healthy man with ability to think, talk, use his hands, legs and body perfectly. But I what I failed to look into him was his luck.
I saw a plastic bag with aluminium cans inside it. I reached to my purse, handed him petty cash and while doing so I could not withhold the questions inside me. I asked him, what he did with the cans. He smiled, his front two teeth tainted. With excitement he spoke of his profession, “they pay me 15 dhs per kilo”. He did not feel ashamed neither he had any depression on his face. “Kilo means 100 cans. And till now I have collected only 35-40 cans. I wanted to have food, that’s why I am asking for money”. I further enquired him about his employment. I knew no one could enter the country without any company sponsoring them & their visa. I wanted to catch him lying and guilty. “I don’t have a visa. My visa has expired months ago. My employer does not care and my company disowned me. I stay in a room, without a job. Instead of sitting at my room and doing nothing I am here looking for Pepsi cans. I will then sell them in Sharjah industrial area where they will pay me money. Please give me any cleaning job you have at home. I will clean your house for any amount you give me”.
With no job to offer, I could not but feel pity on his condition. I said him why does he not return back to his home country? With regret, yet with a smiling face he replied “where do I go? I sold my house to come in here. I will not even get a job there. This is my life”, he said lifting the plastic bag. I didn’t know what to say or suggest. I reached for my purse again. Realizing I did not have much to give, I gave him the most expensive paper I had without thinking further and said apologies for not making his life better but I hope this would suffice for him to spent few days without having to work on empty stomach. He initially hesitated to take the money. He was trying to figure out what the amount was until it left my hands. His face grew dim and nervous and for the last time, he did not say a word. I told him to take care of himself and left without turning back. In some corner of my heart, I wished I had never met him. I wished I didn’t see him again. I wished poverty becomes a thing of the past. I left from there unable to bear the scorching heat. Yet again, I could not complain. There was him there in some dirt under the same heat searching for items which we people don’t even care to push in the bin. Today, the garbage we fling in air, is someone else’s living.
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