By CK Chandramohan
It so happened that, many years ago, I was sitting on a bench at the Meerut Inter State Bus Stand waiting for a friend who was to arrive from Haridwar for a meeting. The bus was over three hours late on that hot summer afternoon of May. I was perspiring and bored to death sitting on the bench, staring at the crowd jostling to get into buses going to different destinations.
Suddenly, I saw an extremely poor family of six, a mother about 30 years old with sober mannerisms but robust look betraying the hard work she is exposed to in the fields, three lively daughters and two sons, all aged between three and 15 years. They were desperately looking for a bus going to their home station, Haridwar. The sons looked eager to protect their mother and sisters in the ‘foreign’ location where every stranger seemed to be in a hurry.
In the meanwhile, a churan wala came shouting, … “Churan le lo, – swadisht churan”. The six-year- old son immediately prodded his mother to get him some of the lip- smacking churan. “Ma, I want to eat churan, get me some please,” he said tugging at the kurta of his mother.
Caught unawares by the demand, the mother told him to wait as she had no extra money left but that she would get it from Chacha’s shop in the village. In India, villagers always address elders as uncles, aunties or grandfather rather than calling them by name.
“I have just Rs 30 left for the bus fare and another five for buying some food on the way. How can I buy churan here for the child,” the mother muttered to herself rather loudly, cursing her fate.
Realising her plight, the churan wala approached them and gave a spoonful of it to the kids and the mother. “But I have no money to pay you,” the mother apologetically told the churan wala. Taking pity over their plight, he said it was the duty of everyone to take care of each other as far as possible and leave the rest to God. They, the children, should enjoy the churan with gratitude and love for God, he said.
Delighted by the churan wala’s offer, the mother bestowed praises and blessings on him. “May you and your family prosper and become wealthy one day,” she said with gratitude writ all over her face.
Soon, the bus for Haridwar entered the station and the family got into it. The mother immediately purchased the tickets and the six proudly took their seats for the journey back home. Proud because they had purchased the tickets with their own money and did not have to depend on anyone else.
Though very poor, they enjoyed the privilege of being hard workers back home and were not beggars.
Sitting at the bus stand bench waiting for my guest to arrive, I was in a way perplexed to see the poor family proudly riding away in the bus towards their hometown. Jolted back to consciousness by a sudden horn, I approached the churan wala and asked if he knew the family. “No sahib, they were strangers but my brothers in poverty.” It was perhaps a natural instinct to help his brothers and sisters in poverty, I thought.
“May God give them enough to grow up as educated citizens able to earn more and contribute to their family and village economies in a small way,” the churan wala said, revealing that he too had a family of six in a nearby village.
This made me realise that nature had made an inbuilt mechanism where the poor take care of themselves through love and generosity rather than depending on doles from the rich or the Government.
The churan wala’s act is a great lesson in moral science: one should act as a noble soul trying to help others in need.
