I don’t know her name; she was a familiar site in front of “Dhandu
Mariamman Kovil”, in rags with untidy hair but bright large eyes in her
twenties or thirties, she can be easily distinguished from other beggars. She
stops me daily for that Rs.10/- which I assume must be her daily target as I
had often noticed her walking straight to a small “Tiffin stall” near the temple
for breakfast after getting money from me.
On some days she would have achieved her target and on those days she
never bothers me. The temple provides them with mid day meals and she didn’t
seem to have much greed nor need to have a saving.
On the other day, I noticed her with her back turned towards me,
her palms near her ears and in an animated conversation, probably on her mobile
phone. As I walked past she was talking aloud with one hand making some
gestures in the air. I must have walked
some ten feet; I heard that familiar sound, Papaa!! It was her with her palms
extended seeking her daily Rs.10/-
“Ha, I thought you were busy with someone on your mobile phone” I
remarked.
“Yes, I was talking to my mother” she replied.
“Where does your mother live?” I asked as I took out her Rs.10/-
from my purse.
“I have never seen her, she died as soon as she gave birth to me,
but I call her daily” she said in soft voice without much emotion”
“Show me the phone you were using to call her” I nearly shouted.
She just showed her empty palms and took it near her ears, “Hello,
See I can talk to anyone” she smiled as she tucked away the Rs.10/- note.
I walked away with a heavy heart, wondering if I was going to die
soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would I call and what
would I say? And why am I waiting?
Later that
day, I did make that phone call, to God himself and I have developed the habit
of calling him almost daily.
