I was walking. It was a busy night ahead, I said to myself. I can't remember now if my foot hurt at that time. But still, I must have been tired. I had to meet two individuals that night and discuss important issues. I usually don't spend my time after evening chitchatting.
So as I was walking towards Nurjahan Road to meet Mehdi, a friend of mine, I stopped as I met Sakib on the way in front if Shia Mosque. Sakib and I used to hang out a couple of years ago, when I was still in college. I was really not interested in stopping to talk with him, but seriously, who am I to break a social norm?
We were talking some things like "whazzup" and taking updates about information we did not really care much about. Coming to think of it now, it all seems so pointless. But then a girl approached us, probably eight years of age, wearing old rugged frock and unattended hair. She was begging. The usual gesture, with one arm stretched half way in front, indicating the palm as a donation spot.
Sakib and I were in no mood of charity. And Sakib seemed to know her by face as she lived in a nearby slum. He started interrogating her in an aggressive tone as to why she was begging while her parents were both working. She was not keen in answering. As soon as her hopes to get any money from the two of us evaporated, she disappeared.
I bid Sakib farewell a little later and continued to my destination. When I was returning that night, I was really surprised at what I saw. I saw that same girl, the one who was begging an hour or two before, putting money into a mosque's donation box. It puzzled me quite a bit to see someone listening to so much queries just to earn a little bit of money and then giving it away. Was she giving all of it? I had no way of knowing. As I did not care enough at that time to stop and ask her. It would have been strange if I did so. While it is perfectly normal for me to ponder about how much she could possibly have given that night. What can I do about it?
That was a unique piece if generosity. It started with someone's charity and was completed by a young heart's spirituality. I was so moved by what I saw that night that I am writing it today, more than a year after the incident took place.
14 February 2011
So as I was walking towards Nurjahan Road to meet Mehdi, a friend of mine, I stopped as I met Sakib on the way in front if Shia Mosque. Sakib and I used to hang out a couple of years ago, when I was still in college. I was really not interested in stopping to talk with him, but seriously, who am I to break a social norm?
We were talking some things like "whazzup" and taking updates about information we did not really care much about. Coming to think of it now, it all seems so pointless. But then a girl approached us, probably eight years of age, wearing old rugged frock and unattended hair. She was begging. The usual gesture, with one arm stretched half way in front, indicating the palm as a donation spot.
Sakib and I were in no mood of charity. And Sakib seemed to know her by face as she lived in a nearby slum. He started interrogating her in an aggressive tone as to why she was begging while her parents were both working. She was not keen in answering. As soon as her hopes to get any money from the two of us evaporated, she disappeared.
I bid Sakib farewell a little later and continued to my destination. When I was returning that night, I was really surprised at what I saw. I saw that same girl, the one who was begging an hour or two before, putting money into a mosque's donation box. It puzzled me quite a bit to see someone listening to so much queries just to earn a little bit of money and then giving it away. Was she giving all of it? I had no way of knowing. As I did not care enough at that time to stop and ask her. It would have been strange if I did so. While it is perfectly normal for me to ponder about how much she could possibly have given that night. What can I do about it?
That was a unique piece if generosity. It started with someone's charity and was completed by a young heart's spirituality. I was so moved by what I saw that night that I am writing it today, more than a year after the incident took place.
14 February 2011