Saying No to the Beggar Boy

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
A small scruffy boy
Couldn't be more than five years old
Tangled, dirt filled, unkempt hair
Shoeless, spilt cracked feet
Too small clothes in tatters
Dry, crusty, caked up runny nose

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
Gesturing hand to mouth, an act of proof
Needing money for food
Yet - lacking desperation
Holding no conviction
Playing out the scene by rote
I notice his burnt out left eye

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
This child from birth
Destined to beg
On the busy upmarket streets of Delhi
No self
For - his self was stolen
By the man who demands he dance the dance of a beggar boy
In askance of money
The same man who burnt out his eye those few years ago
Claiming himself as the owner of this boys self

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
His eyes, devoid of life
Repeating the same phrase thousands of times
Each day
White people give
For they are not used to seeing a boy with nothing - not even an eye
They still have compassion
They feel helpless in a situation such as this
For all his worldly street knowledge - this is the biggest fact he is wise to

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
I ask myself whose hand I am feeding
- If I so choose to donate funds
I ask myself what it takes to end the dreaded cycle
The enslavement of the destitute children of India
I ask myself why these children were born into an existence so harsh

"Rupee Madam, rupee"
"No" I say looking into his one good eye
Well trained he is relentless
"Rupee Madam, rupee"
Does he sense I am walking on
Wishing to help
Yet accepting this circumstance as what it is

Loosing myself in the thick Delhi crowd
I am forever left wondering
With unanswered questions
About the beggar boy with the burnt out eye

"Rupee Madam, rupee"

Reviews

[jeannemarie coulter]

very powerful vision of a very broken soul...a intelligent question posed...very well done

[Parimal Pratyush]

This is an apt scenario for me too. Sometimes I take my time and feed them myself with chips and stuff. But I restrain from the money game altogether because of the reason so beautifully described, the money goes elsewhere. Sometimes, it does feel hollow and I ask myself, is that all that I can do for them? But the reality is that these boys have been brainwashed so much you gotta throw all your potential to make them understand the importance of education. They only want money. Kailash Satyarthi, Nobel peace prize winner for saving kids from such circumstances says he needs a member from every household to completely tackle the issue. But in a country of over a billion people, that is a bleak possibility. As an Individual I teach poor kids on my free afternoons and love when they are willing to learn. I will definitely do more when I am a man of some worth. Poor boy. I hope you had a great trip, in exception to this experience.

[stansg]

I don't know where to start, this is such a big issue, human trafficking and slavery are grave issues that need to be combated urgently. The problem is that it is such a twisted and dangerous maze, they say that begging in India is a multi million dollar industry. I'm glad that you did not give alms to the beggar boy, i'm sure that it would have fed someone else altogether. It saddens me to admit it but this is the ground reality and you have captured it very well indeed.

[KWP]

thanks for reading stansg - I did notice that there were a lot less beggars this time than on my previous visit - especially in Mumbai XXX

[ANTO]

Oh dear God, what a heartbreaking 'forvever decision'! I was taken with how hard it must have been to say no. Not that it makes it less impactful but I hope this is not based on a true story. How harrowing for the speaker. The inhumanity of the lad's situation goes without saying and the evil people behind this scam too - treating children as nothing more than objects and visitors as cash cows. An image of a Hell on Earth. Well told with dignity Michelle.

[CC Faye]

This poem is beautiful and it reminded me the city of Manila. Like India, there are also beggars in the Philippines.
I know what you feel. Sometimes when I see beggar children knocking on the door windows asking for money, I keep wondering if I should give them money. Their money will not go to them, instead it will go to their parents, who are just lazying around their house, creating more children.
Yeah, I know. Pity, but to me you shouldn't give them money because it won't go to the children.

Beautiful poem. Made me cry. You have a talent for making hard poems such as these.

[Neville]

Been there, done that and wore the tee shirt out.

Wow, KWP you have so well captured a few moments of Delhi here, amazing how skillfully applied words can conjure up the kind of vivid images I have just been reminded of... thank you. All Good Things, N

[KWP]

Oh hey thank you for reading Neville and also hi nice to meet you - yeah I was just back there so all those good things and so much more came glooding back to slap me in the face and remind me of the simple simple acts of live and kindness in the world X

[Neville]

That's India for ya to be sure.. A ragged and real write my friend... All Good Things, N x

[cycy]

wow this is such a great poem and the story is sad yet it really gets you thinking and wondering especially when you consider that most of these beggar boys beg under the watchful eye of someone who takes whatever you give them and that itself forms a dilema whether to give them the money or just simply buy them food instead it is such a sad and tragic reality indeed well penned dear.

[KWP]

hey you - thanks so much for stopping by and reviewing all these poems :) yes - india is a constant source of inspiration and a definite reminder to live - just live and accept XX

[Ruth]

Heartbreaking and brings home painful decisions...people seldom look at the societal bigger picture, so very saddening to me...powerful piece xo

[emmajoy]

Has been like that for so many years.. endless years. It's more than a blot of civilisation.. and what can an individual do but turn to his or her own heart... then, reasoning. if the child is given money, he might eat today, if he's ignored, he might die, be beaten.. what does reason do then? Over there, life's lived or endured in palace or on street - depends on how that disgusting cliche falls, 'how the cookie crumbles''! Tis not Bollywood, tis life.

Your poem's heartbreaking, rooted deeply into fact and horror. Guess every stanza is like the demand he made/makes.. and yet another thought by the passer-by. More than fine writing.

[Chris]

You touched upon something we in our existence seldom if ever see - except in movies and yet we DO see panhandling and other "bits-of-desperation" as a background in our own existence. What is our collective conscience to do? And tomorrow all the faces return.