  The begging child
by Ashani Jayasundara
It was a meritorious day. The
long slanting rays of the sun with its brilliant hues fell like rain
through the cluster of branches of the cool treetops. It was the
fullmoon poyaday! The tranquility of the whole surroundings puzzled
every animal except the white crane, who was ready to observe sil at any
time.
The sil observers walked quietly on the road as the clouds float.
Everybody listens to the sacred Daham and clears their hectic mind. It
was the Vesak Full Moon Day in which everybody recalled the amazing
events of Lord Buddha’s life.
I too was at home listening to Bana Desum of Venerable bhikkhus. Then
mother decided to worship the sacred Kirivehera. So in the evening we
left Moneragala.
The dusk crept in slowly when we reached Kataragama.
My sister and father then suggested to visit Tissamaharama. There
were so many pilgrims who visited these two sacred lands.
The moon had appeared in the sky. There far out appeared a very large
pagoda of milky white.
After parking our vehicle we walked for some distance. Then we left
our sandals aside and entered the temple. It was crowded with a large
number of people. I bowed there for a while.
Suddenly my eyes caught the sight of a small child. I looked at him
thrice, but nobody cared to notice him. So I drew the attention of my
sister.
“Nona...mahattya, give me some money! Please give me some! Don’t
anybody feel sorry for this unfortunate child?... Have pity on me. Have
sympathy on me.
You may get so much merit by giving me!” The little boy yelled at the
people as he wept.
 He was six-year-old boy seated on a heap of block stones.
A dog lays beside him as he had realised the child’s sorrow. But the
child wept on with no emotions.
In such a crowded place he was left alone at all. “How can he be here
alone? He must have been brought here by someone else”, my mother said.
We trod all around the temple and worshipped for a long time. But I
could not concentrate my mind as I remembered the begging child from
time to time. I was puzzled with hundreds of questions which arose in
me. We sat on the concrete floor. I could recite only the five stanzas.
That was all.
Nor further I could worship as I heard his miserable voice over and
over again at the doorstep of the temple. I was filled with emotion. As
we redied get back, I heard the still lamenting child’s loud voice.
“Si....r, mad...am, nona...m..a..hatt...aya, even ten rupee, even
five rupee” Again and again he spoke in his grief-stricken voice.
“Please put even one rupee for me. Pl..ea..ea se!” At the same time he
shook his tin with plenty of money “Tuck, tuck, tun, tun”. He was even
unable to pronounce a few words. He was too small. This time I was
shocked.
“Why does he need money? No shelter, nor food, neither even a mother?
How can it be? Nobody can be born to this world without a mother”.
As my father gave me a 20 rupee note, I kept it on his palm. The most
wonderful thing is the way how he paid his gratitude to me. With an
innocent smile he said. “May you gain so much merit, madam!”/
The next question that haunted in my mind was how can such a little
boy know about merit and how can he give merit to others by receiving
others’ money? “However, I was satisfied as I could console him a
little. But at the sametime he showed that he was not content from the
money he got.
However, the people gathered all around him. Nor one rupee he could
gain, but twenty, ten, fifty, fifty, twenty and again twenty. They must
have felt pity on him.
 One or two people and the village men and women came near him and
wondered by watching the boy as they were watching a film by saying “Oh!
anei! apoi!”. But nobody hesitated to and seek for his parents.
Everybody left him alone at that lonely darkness where only the moon
took notice of him.
In a trice my father showed us a lady, fair in appearance, but too
old in a dignified distance to the child. So we all looked at her.
I had no idea until my father said that she must be the child’s
mother. But my mother and sister disagreed at once.
However, we could not believe the reality I told the father “How can
I believe that a mother uses her own child to earn money?”
“What? How can I believe that a child’s mother uses her own child to
earn money? You know the world is becoming worse by the day! Realise it!
You know, she is the child’s mother, not someone else” My father
replied.
At that time I hung on to my sister’s hand and wanted to vanish and
erase the child’s sight out of my eyes and mind at the same time! |
