The begging child

It was a meritorious day. The long slanting rays of the sun with their brilliant hue fell like rainfall through the cluster of the branches of the cool tree tops.

It was a full moon Poya day! The tranquillity of the surrounding puzzled every animal except the white crane, who was already ready to observe sil.

The sil observers walked quietly on the road just as the snowy clouds drift. Everybody listened to the Dhamma Desana to clear their hectic mind. It was Vesak Full Moon Poya day on which every Buddhist recalled the amazing events in the Buddha’s life.

I too was at home listening to Bana. Then my mother suggested that we should worship at the sacred Kirivehera in Kataragama, a few kilometres away from Moneragala town. In the evening we managed to go when my father was free.

Dusk was slowly creeping when we reached Kataragama. As my sister requested we next visited the Tissamaharama sacred temple. Oh! It was crowded with pilgrims.

The moon had risen from the black carpet and unfurled its light in the sky. Far out there appeared a large pagoda of milky colour.

After parking our vehicle we walked for some distance. Then we left our sandals aside and entered the temple. It was crowded with thousands of pilgrims.

I bowed for a while reciting religious verses. Suddenly my eyes caught sight of a small child. I watched him on three occasions, but nobody else seemed to notice him at all!

The words he spoke astonished me. I couldn’t believe the words he was uttering and I stood still for a while. As I tried to draw my sister’s attention to show him, she asked me to worship with a concentrated mind. ‘‘What nonsense! “she said. Once again I pointed my forefinger towards him. Then only she saw him. Then she nodded saying, “A small boy begging!” and went on worshipping again.

“Nona, Mahattaya, give me some money! Please give me some! Have pity on me! Have sympathy for me. You may get so many merits by giving me a coin or even a note.” The little boy bleaded to the people passing by, but there were no tears in his eyes, nor did he weep. I saw him like a teddy bear or a speaking doll repeating the same words again and again.

He was about six years old and was seated on a heap of black stones. A stray dog was perched beside him as he had realized the child’ sorrow. Though the boy ‘wept’ with his voice with continuous repetitions, he was just like a machine with no emotion.

In such a crowded place, he was left all alone. “How can he be here alone? He must have been brought here by somebody, I thought.” My mother replied as she observed the boy with a certain amount of kindness.

Then we went all over the temple and worshipped for a long time. But I could not concentrate as I recalled the begging child, from time to time.I was cross and puzzled with hundreds of questions arising in my mind. Though we sat on the concrete floor to worship, I could not concentrate.

I could not worship any more as I heard the begging child’s voice echoing. I was emotional thinking of this little boy.

As we got up to get back, I stared at the child in a sad tone. “Nona, mahattaya! please give me even ten rupees or five!” Again and again he spoke in his grief-stricken voice. “Please put even a rupee.” At the same time, he shook a tin with his right hand.

He was even unable to pronounce some words. He was too small. This also shocked me. “Why does he need money? Has he no shelter, food or even a mother? How can it be? Nobody is born to this world without a mother.”

As my father gave him a Ru.20 note, I kept it on his palm knowing he would be happy. The most wonderful thing won how he paid his gratitude. He was thanking me. “Nona, you may get so many merits”, he said.The next question that haunted my mind was how can such a little boy know about merit and how can he give merit to others. Anyway, I was content with what I did to console him. But he seemed as if he was not satisfied with it.

The people gathered around him and he got a lot of money.

One or two people and village men and women came near him and were watching the boy as if they were watching an interesting movie, by saying “Oh! Aney! Apoi!”. But nobody asked him about his parents.

Everyone left him alone in that lonely darkness where only the moon took notice of him.

In a trice, my father pointed out a woman fair in appearance, but quite old who was at a distance from the child. I had no idea until my father said that she must be the child’s mother.

But I disagreed at once. “How can a mother use her own child to beg?” However, we could not confirm the truth until my father succeeded to do so. “This is the reality”, my father explained to me.

At that time I caught my sister’s hand tightly and wanted to vanish and erase the pitiful sight out of my mind!

Ashani Erandika Jayaundara
Royal National College,
Moneragala.