Millionaire beggar

Published in Dawn Magazine on July 14, 1998

He’d been there for many years, standing on one leg from morning till night, apparently blind and deaf, bowl outstretched, with a peaceful expression on his face. Whenever you passed by, you put a two-rupee note in the bowl and you felt very happy.

And then your peace was shattered when someone told you that the beggar was from your home-town in India, and for all you knew, he might well be a distant relative of yours. You were stunned.

You thought of all the good things in life that God has given you, and you resolved to do something for the poor man. You spoke to your relatives and friends, and those who were in the Association of families from your home-town. In a couple of days you had collected a few hundred rupees for him. You found out where he lived, and went to the place.

At first, you thought you had the wrong address. It didn’t look like a locality one would’ve expected a beggar to live in. But the people there knew him well. You climbed up a couple of flights, and knocked on the door. He opened the door, and you felt uneasy, for he appeared to be neither blind nor deaf.

You followed him in, and again you were surprised. Instead of the poverty one would’ve expected, the flat was carpeted and well-furnished with a TV, a refrigerator, a VCR, and all the other things that could be in a millionaire’s house.

You told him that you had been so much moved by his plight that you had decided to collect some money for him every month, and you handed him the amount you’d brought. He counted the notes, laughed heartily and gave them back to you. ‘You can keep the money; uncle,’ he said, ‘in fact, I’ll donate a couple thousand every month to your Association.’

After a few minutes of conversation, you found that he was richer than you and many men you knew. You walked out in a daze, wondering if you’d chosen the right profession.