A story about two boys who meet at a traffic signal in Mumbai

Mohan had been begging on the streets ever since he could remember in his eight years of life. He lived the same sparkless life daily, full of hunger, begging, sometimes stealing, roaming aimlessly in the dirt, tolerating harsh weather conditions, and despising the rich.

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The same dirty white t-shirt and shorts were worn by him on a daily basis. His white t-shirt had now been dyed black by the roadside dust and smoke, and he wore ripped white shoes which he had stolen from the scrap collector’s shop. He always felt bad for the loss suffered by the shopkeeper or scrap dealer, hence he rarely did steal anything, and did steal only when he had been forced to due to harsh circumstances. His body was covered with millennium layers of black dirt, so you can imagine how much people hated him at first sight and insulted him by shooing him away when he tried to come near them to beg for some food or money. He was alone in the busy streets of Mumbai, the City of Dreams of India, the city that was the home of 21 million. Once in a while a wandering street dog, as hopeless as he was, would come sit by him to give him some love – the emotion that existed for everyone except him.

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He always dreamed of his mother, who most of the time stayed hungry and fed him as much as she could, as he never had enough to eat and would have to sleep hungry daily, ever since his parents went away. The last sweet memory that he could recall of anybody feeding him was some years ago, when his mother fed him stale bread, dipping that hard bread in water so that it would not injure his food pipe. That same evening, she along with his father had gone out to bring some food, and he never saw them again. He waited for them to come, but they never came back, and he had to start begging, to free himself from hunger and thirst. He never knew they had died in an accident. His heart wept for them, yet he could not understand why they had left him. His yearning for a full meal and a roof over his head seemed too modest a ransom for the Almighty to deny; yet, in stark contrast, there were those who lived in opulence, their every wish fulfilled. He could never fathom this inscrutable game of fortune. What does a helpless 8-year-old know about how treacherous destiny is? 

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Adam lived a life which millions of people can only dream of. He lived in a spacious and luxurious 4 bedroom apartment, went to the best school of Mumbai, enjoyed foreign trips, shopping expensive brands, dining in costly restaurants and not knowing not wasting food.

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Every night, after laying on his cozy bed, Adam would dream of new holiday places to visit, and new stuff to buy. Every night, after laying on the hard and dusty footpath all alone, teary-eyed Mohan would think of the awaiting begging, hunger, thirst and venomous insults of the people he begged in front of. These abuses echoed in his pure and sensitive soul always. He cried daily, but who cared for the tears of these poor people who were unimportant and useless in this busy and self-centred city?

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One fine day, when it seemed impossible for one to step outside, Mohan had been splashing in a dirty stream loaded with trash to give him some respite from the unforgiving hot sun during those dog days of summer. He had not eaten a single grain since last noon. Wherever he went to beg, luck did not favour him at all, and he received no money, nothing to eat anywhere. When the traffic signal flashed red, all the car and bike riders who stopped were way too irritated with the oppressive heat. Rivers of sweat flowed down their bodies; hence, they were too annoyed to bear a gross beggar enveloped in dirt and germs touching them and begging for some money or food. They were in a terrible mood, and all they did was shoo him away with derision. 

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He went where a signal stopped the honking automobiles. Mohan came to a big and glossy jet-black car, which shone bright under the sun. He knocked on the window a bit too loudly perhaps, and this irritated Adam, who was boring his eyes into his iPad watching a series. He lowered the window glass and made a face full of disgust for the filthy beggar.

“Please give me money; I’m hungry,” the beggar Mohan said, his moist eyes pleading desperately in front of Adam. The beggar boy was stinking horribly as if he had come out of a gutter. His body, enveloped in layers of dirt, was leaning against the spick-and-span car.

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“Get lost! Just go away!” said Adam, turning his nose up. His face expressed how disgusted he was when the beggar was about to touch him. He started to close the window. Mohan grabbed it, trying to stop it from closing, and begged for some money.

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“Get lost, you fellow. Don’t you touch this car with those awful hands of yours, go away,” he yelled rather way too loudly in an offensive tone at the ugly beggar boy, his hands shooing him away. He slammed the window shut. Adam’s parents said nothing as if their rude son had done nothing bad. They were rich people, yet they were poor at heart. Adam had no right to insult anyone, especially a poor fellow who had made no mistake; his parents never taught him this.

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The signal flashed green, and Adam's car went away. Mohan went away with disappointment and a stomach that could no longer bear to be hungry. He was becoming weaker and weaker, struggling to walk. He had no other option except facing these hardships at this tender age. Luckily, he had found a bottle of water with some water in it, around two gulps. He gratefully drank it, and his joy knew no bounds when he found it. He sat in the shade of a tree, tears rolling down his cheeks. All he wanted was food. He had had enough now and found his miseries unbearable.

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Adam’s driver pulled into the parking lot of the city’s biggest mall. After spending time there, he came out with a big sandwich of which he had taken only two bites and didn’t like it. He came out of the mall and threw the sandwich in a large dustbin nearby, which had flies roaming all over it and stank badly as it was coated with layers of black dirt and soot inside. He could not stand that gross smell and went away quickly after throwing it in the bin and went to a café nearby.

He sat down at a table at the window side while he waited for his order to be ready. His eyes immediately caught the attention of the same beggar boy whom he had met earlier. That beggar boy had probably watched him throw that sandwich in a box because what he did next shook Adam. That beggar boy had leaned over and jumped into that horribly rotting, stinking, and unhygienic dustbin and had immediately taken out that sandwich from the bin.

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That beggar sat down on the ground next and started to gobble it all at once, hardly chewing it before swallowing and taking another bite as if he might never eat anything again. His happy smile, tears of joy and his desperate gobbling opened Adam’s eyes.

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“Here’s some hot Frappuccino with chocolate pastry,” said Adam’s father. But Adam was glued to the scene and could not pull away his wide and shocked eyes from the beggar boy. All he could see was that boy jumping into and retrieving that sandwich from the horrible dustbin he could not even bear standing near. He glanced over his favourite food kept on the table but sat frozen, his dismissive words to the beggar echoing in his ears, his chest heavy with guilt, and his throat choked with a lump of shame. He realised that day the difference between a rich person and a rich human, and he was certainly not the latter. Adam recognised on that fateful day that he and not the beggar boy was poor at heart.