He was a beggar, a wretched man in his late 20s wearing shaggy clothes. His fate had been merciless to him. His parents died in a road accident when he had just entered his adolescence. His cruel uncle had left no stone unturned to get his parents’ property registered by his own name. No sooner did his uncle became successful in his plans than he was kicked out of the house and left to beg. It took him months to adjust to the new phase his life had compelled him to enter. He learnt the art of begging. Yes, begging is an art and is not as easy as people generally think. The capability of making sorrowful faces with shining eyes, the act of convincing people and having patience till you actually get a penny out of the pocket of the bypasser requires a lot of time and practice. He had become quite good in all these. Gathering money to get bread for at least one time a day, dealing with the stray dogs & policemen and arranging a shelter for the night became his daily schedule. Monotonous, yet challenging!
One fine day, he was sitting on a roadside against a wall, with his legs folded & knees up. He had kept his bowl on his knees and put his head down. Suddenly, he heard a coin striking the others inside the bowl. As he returned from his subconscious state, he sensed a pleasing aroma, which he never had smelled before; one which seemed to have cast a magical spell on him. As he gently looked up, he found a girl passing by him. He couldn’t see her complete face, but whatever fraction he saw, that was beautiful! That not-so-fair face, that shining earring and that birthmark on her cheek took his heart away. He fell in love with the most beautiful girl he ever saw, though maybe not-so-beautiful for the world. She walked straight, without looking back. Quite obvious, why would she? And of course, love knows no boundaries. It breaks all the barriers of religion, race & class and connects two people by their hearts, that’s the same in everyone. Within few seconds, life revealed to him some of the hidden colours of joy. He felt as if he had entered into some other dimensions for those few seconds.
After that, his life never remained the same. He started living more joyfully. He would remember her face and smile like an idiot. He would remain satisfied with whatever pennies he could collect and whatever food he could buy. But he would never spend the penny given by her for It was very close to her heart. For him, that was the token of his love. After all, that coin must have been in her hands or between her fingers at least once, rather, twice. He would keep that coin between his hands and imagine her hand. The coin still had that magical aroma that could only be sensed by him and not even by a trained dog. He had no expectations with his love. He never waited for her or thought of having her. He would never like to ruin her life because of poverty. He could always feel her through that coin and that was enough for him.
Days passed. Tough times came when he was devoid of food still he didn’t spend that coin. He started feeling weak. His body showed some abnormal symptoms. The symptoms were similar to the numerous patients in the hospitals those days who had been tested positively for dengue. He didn’t know what it was but he realised that his end was near. He started becoming careless. He would skip meals, lie under the rains or bright sunlight and do nothing, just stare at the coin and get lost in the world of fantasy.
One day he felt something peculiar, unpleasant. A negative intuition came to him which he didn’t ignore. He lay down at a corner and started introspecting. He asked himself why life had been so cruel to him and what all did he gain in the world. After all the questions and answers, he closed his eyes. He had clinched the coin in his fist. As he lay there still, he could feel energy gradually venting out of his body. He waited for his death. But then, all of a sudden, a certain sweet, known fragrance struck his senses as someone passed by. He smiled. He smiled at himself and at his fate. Life had been cruel to him, but death, perhaps, was going to be kind. With a faint smile conquering his face, he took a deep breath and with the leaving breath, everything gradually became quiet. He died with his token of love held in his hand so tight that it could never be snatched off him.
He knew the true meaning of love. He loved without expectations. He loved without wishes. He made love his strength and died without losing faith. He lived with her in his thoughts and died in presence of her, actually. He understood love better than most of the people out there who boast of knowing love and cry out the faults or joy of being in a relationship. Death was beautiful to him, much more than what he had thought of, even in his last moment. Same date, same month, same place, just a year later. He had started a new life breathing a special aroma and ended up exhaling the same. Death was kind to him, indeed!
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