CATCH-22 

I was travelling from my home town to some other station by train. My friend was with me. It was a late night journey and we were sleeping face to face on the upper births in a second class compartment. A group of eunuchs entered the train. They disbursed themselves in the carriage, went from person to person, clapped twice loudly in their own style and begged for a note of rupees ten from every passenger in the carriage. The ever worship-able face of my mother lighted bright in front of my eyes. She told me that these people are bad at doing shameful acts in public. If you refuse to their demands, they can undress before the public and can do anything even with you. I felt a shivering. I decided to pose as if I were sleeping like a donkey, but in vain. The eunuch approached me and my flabby friend and clapped. My friend was fearless and knew how to deal with such things. He got up, turned to the eunuch and asked smiling in his own unique tone, “Kya maamla hai?” The eunuch, to my surprise, went away. I thanked my friend. A week later, I had to face the same situation but I was alone this time. The eunuch came to me and asked to give him rupees ten. I reached to my pocket and handed him a note of rupees ten.

I do not remember the name of the person but all of us know him very well. He was the one who received us from the station and accompanied us throughout our Hyderabad tour. Let us call him Mr A. It was our DANCE ON THE CRUISE evening in Hyderabad. All were dancing but I was not as I do not know how to. I was holding my friend’s camera in my hand and taking pictures and shooting videos of the dancing stars. All danced very well. There was kind of a shop at the cruise, one that served cold drinks and other beverages. My friend came to me and I asked him if he would take a break and drink something cold. He agreed. I bought two Frooty, one for each of us. Mr A was looking at us. Both of us started drinking Frooty. He came to me and he said something that shook me. His words were, “Sir, when you have taken the half of it, please leave the rest half for me.” I was dumbfounded. I bought a fresh one for him. Mr A drank it cheerfully and thanked me.

It was 02.10 on a Friday afternoon at New Delhi Railway Station. I was waiting for a train to my hometown. A woman in tattered rags with a shabby child in her lap approached me and begged for money, stating that the child was sick and needed medical treatment. Generally I am never in mood of giving even a single hard earned penny to someone without a reason, not to ask of beggars. The child was sleeping quietly and its quietness reminded me of what I had read weeks ago on social site Facebook that children in the arms of such beggars are generally given liquor or some other sedatives so that they do not become hindrance in the functioning by crying owing to hunger or any other ailments. These children even die of overdose of sedatives as their delicate organs find it unable to bear these things. I gave her nothing and moved aside.

Today I finished my lunch and went for an ice-cream, my favorite Matka Kulfi. I bought one for rupees ten. I gave the seller the amount and took an ice-cream wrapped in a tissue paper. Standing there, I started licking it, chewing it and eating it. A grown up man, probably over 40 years of age, came singing an old Hindi movie song loudly and cheerfully. He seemed unaware of all the problems of life, he was merry. He had a small Coke (300 ml bottle) in his hand. He was unshaved, dressed in rags, but healthy and cheerful. He staggered and it gave me a feeling that he was drunk. There was a joy in his eyes. He was not mad. Then I saw him coming to me. He stood in front of me and said, “Babuji, ek ice-cream khila do.” I was unmoved and in a catch-22 situation. I wanted to let him have an ice-cream, but something within stopped me from doing so. Deep inside, the question arose “why?” But he requested again. This time, I looked at the seller who was looking at both of us, silently and smilingly. I reached for my wallet, took out a ten rupee note, handed it to the ice-cream seller and asked him to fulfill his wish. He took the ice-cream, thanked me loudly and went away singing.

Maybe all of us face these real time situations at times. My response in all the above mentioned situations has been different. Once I was forced to give. The next time, he was not a beggar at all, though he begged something in a manner that suits beggar more. The man had served us day and night, and it was my pleasure that I could quench his thirst; I could let him have a smile on his face when all my friends were breaking the dance floor. Then the lady with the child in her arms became a prey to my knowledge that may be or even may not be true. I am still unsure whether my act of not helping her could be justified or not. And the last one. Well, it’s something that has just happened. I’ll have to think over it to decide whether my stand could be justified or not. What do you say?