Beggar at the Railway Gate

The Beggar at the Railway Gate

Glimmer of hope in sunken eyes
Palms extended
A prayer on parched lips
The body racked by coughs
As the beggar waited
For alms
Alms from a generous palm
From a kindly heart

As the sun rose to its zenith
He returned to the shadows
A torn ragged cloth his bed
A bundle of odds his pillow
As sleep dulled his eyes
A smile settled on his lips
And memories crept in…..

The orphanage, its dark hallways
Dark hallways and darker people
The harsh discipline and squalid food
The freedom of release, the strange world
Kicks and blows, curses and commands,
Of polishing boots and washing dishes,
The few tips got and money stolen
The first woman and regular whore
The first puff of ganja and the regular licqour
Luggages carried and money extorted
Ogling the memsahibs and their sahibs
Fist fights fought and nights in jail

But hope still fought a loosing battle
and saw him through………
An old dissipated bag of bones
The old beggar near the railway gate

By
Vinod Natesan

31st October 2000

To,
The Afternoon Despatch and Courier
Mumbai


Attn: The Editor

Dear Sir,

I am attaching herewith a poem that was written more than a decade back.

More than a decade back, as a student, I guess I still had a sense of compassion and time to see the life around me and the little, little, things that lend life its colour and charm.

There used to be a beggar at the railway station gate who used to ‘hustle’ us students as we returned home every weekend. We used to tease him at times, joke with him ,as we made merry, a weekend at home clearly the source of joy.
One day we found him covered with a piece of cloth with coins strewn around. He had died and to send the body to the mortuary people were collecting coins…

Recently, I chanced upon this poem that I had written then and my colleagues felt that I should get it published. I thought of your publication because in some sense it captures the spirit in which this poem was written.

Regards,


Vinod Natesan