It was Sinhala/ Hindu
New Year's time, about 20 years ago. I was nine or ten years old. I still
remember his tear sodden eyes filled with sadness and the dirty handkerchief on
his trembling hands as I kept staring at him.
I ran to open the gate after several knocks since nobody was there to open it but me. I was a shy girl as a child and dreaded every time when I have to open the gate for visitors. As I opened it, I saw a stranger standing under the scorching heat of the sun. He was in his forties as far as I can remember. He was wearing a ragged cream coloured shirt and threadbare trousers which were so worn out that I can't tell exactly which color they were. His shoes were covered with dust. However, his shirt was tucked in and surprisingly, I saw a bit of neatness in his attire. He was holding a dirty handkerchief which he kept fumbling with his hands. Beads of sweat was running down the sides of his cheeks. He had a small beard and a mustache but the prominent feature on his face was his eyes. He had pleading eyes, clouded with exhaust and fatigue. His eyes were filled with tears. Maybe It was how I want to remember, at least.
"Is there anybody
else at your house?" He asked with trembling words.
"No". I lied,
my customary answer for these type of situations. Actually, my mother was in
the house, cleaning the kitchen.
"What do you want
?" I asked again.
"My dear, I'm sorry
to ask this from a small child like you. My old mother is dying and she needs a
surgery to save her heart. I need to find three lacks to do the operation. I
don't have enough money for that. I have nothing else to do but walk from door
to door to collect it. If you have anything, please help me".
I was speechless for a second. I wanted to believe that he was lying but I couldn't. I closed the gate and ran to the kitchen. My mother was mopping the kitchen floor. As I mentioned earlier, New Year festival was few days ahead.
"Who is it?" She asked.
"Someone is asking
for money" I told her.
"Just give him five
rupees from the drawer and send him off." She snapped.
Five rupees was not enough. But I didn't try to argue with her. You don't go and cross your mothers when they are on a cleaning spree of the house for the Sinhala New Year. Trust me I know how it goes. So I turned sheepishly and ran to my father's table and opened the first drawer which contained some notes and coins. I saw several five rupee coins, notes of tens and twenties. I closed the drawer and went to my closet. I opened my secret drawer where I keep my pocket money. I had two notes of fifty rupees and a hundred. I stared at the hundred note, grabbed it and ran again to the gate. Part of me prayed that he hadn't left yet.
He was still fumbling with his dirty handkerchief. I handed the hundred note over to him. He stared at it in disbelief and said, "God bless you my child. May you and your parents live a long life". He took an envelope from his trouser pockets and hid the note inside. For the last time, he looked at me with his tear sodden eyes and walked away. God bless you my child. The words kept ringing in my head. My little heart leaped with joy and I felt like a hero who fought against the great war of all times.
Up to this date, I have
no idea whether the man was a fraud or a drunkard, but only one thing was
certain. I did something good that I can treasure and cherish forever.
