Was cleaning my room yesterday, and found this sheet of paper, mostly from last year- around the same time. A small experience- worth sharing, I think. Have a look.
"I got my salary, dad."
"That’s nice... what are you planning to do?
"Dinner, as of now...”
"No, I'm asking what will you do with your salary."
I knew where was this heading.
"Look, dad, not one of your temple things. Have told you a million times, I don't like your gods."
If I can be adamant, imagine what my father would be. I had to relent.
There was still time; I approached the temple with some apprehension. After all, I don't like the idea of someone else controlling our life. There was a long queue, everyone waiting to get a glimpse. Joined the line reluctantly.
15-20 minutes pass, and no visible movement. And I was feeling a bit sleepy; happens when people around you keep chatting in some language you don't understand.
Then I heard the cries. Five-six children, all below ten years, were begging. I thought about the money I was going to donate to the God. Looked as if he would be fine without my hundred bucks. I walked out of the line.
Went to a nearby Thela, and called those kids. They came running- asking for money.
"No money", I said. "Eat what you want."
"!@#%^#!@$", the thela owner shouted, trying to scare the kids off.
"ruko bhaiyya", I offered some explanation. "They’re with me, give them what they want. I'll pay."
He didn't understand.
I mean, he didn't get why was I doing this.
After a few more rounds of explanations- the plates began to appear. One kid, the smallest of the lot- around 4, I think, stood by my side and passed the plates to others.
He looked really cute.
"Nice boy", I thought.
When I handed the last plate to him, he shook his head, as if he didn't need it. "Parcel", he said.
I didn't get it. He hardly spoke his mother tongue clearly. After a few minutes of wasted attempts, I asked the shopkeeper for help.
"uska ma ghar mein hai, us ke liye khana le jaana hai."
The kid opened his mouth again: "please."
"You eat this, I'll get another for your mother", I conveyed, with the shopkeeper's assistance.
He shook his head again.
the shopkeeper translated his explanation: "maa not well- uss ko khana khilana hai."
Before I could say anything, the shopkeeper put two parcels in his hands.
"ye mere taraf se saab", he offered.
There were a few hundred rupees left in my pocket. I kept what was required to get back to my room, and gave the rest to the kid.
The look of astonishment, and the smile afterwards, were one the best expressions I've seen till date.