homeless for the holidays

rafiq
wearing ragged, dirty clothes, sporting an unkempt beard
and motley, misshapen teeth, he walks slowly, struggling with crutches,
carrying a shoulder bag made of cloth and a small, metal pail.
on basant panchami, madam gave him a meal - water, four roti, a meagre portion
of dal in a tiny bowl she told him to keep.
she is ignorant of her own poverty, poor wretched soul.
he is only hungry and cold.
later madam will do puja and count the beads on her mala to cancel all her sins.
her fifty close family members will envy her good fortune and feel proud.
i wonder, does rafiq wish he were one of them?
where is he sleeping tonight? when he dreams, maybe he's loved,
maybe he can work for a living, walk, run and even fly.
but he'll wake up alone in the morning tomorrow,



basant panchami is a spring equinox or something like that I think-the idea is you will receive manifold blessings if you give to the poor on that day, espcially a meal. it's an old tradition, I guess left over from the days people were so hardhearted and hardheaded they wouldnt give anything to anyone unless there was something in it for them. what would be more persuading than being able to buy a ticket into heaven? even if you didnt believe there was one, just to be on the safe side, you know?


but today are they any more genuine? and who is it that benefits from charity, compassion, good deeds?


I wrote this making rafiq the hero and the donor the villain. but it isnt so easy...for anyone who is interested in the true story, I am doing a blog because it is too long to post here.