Suman K. Sharma
As you drive from the city towards the Tawi Bridge, it is most likely that you will be importuned by a devi for alms just a few meters this side of the statue of the last ruler of Jammu and Kashmir, Maharaja Hari Singh. No, not a goddess she is in this City of Temples nestling under the shade of the serene abode of Mata Vaishno Devi; but a filthy girl of seven-eight years, masquerading as a devi. Her matted, unruly hair is covered by a gaudy red chunri, her eyes are accentuated by artfully applied kohl, her lips are red with cheap lipstick and her face has a coating of some coarse powder intended to give a sheen to her dark complexion. She scans you searchingly in a manner that is not exactly child-like and you dig your hand into your pocket to take out a coin or two to offer her.
This particular spot in the city of Jammu is dense with traffic all times of the day, with all sorts of cars and bikes, trucks and buses, bikes and pedestrians; not to say the ubiquitous Matadors vying with each other for the right of passage. You get concerned about the child as she goes away in search of her next bhakta, her next target. She could be crushed under the speeding wheels. You think of the havoc that the air thick with the fumes and emissions can wreak upon her fragile system. You are left to wonder what the little devi is doing at this busy traffic junction when she should have been learning the three Rs in a primary, class or playing with her peers.
The answer would not be hard to find. Stationed not far from her would be someone keeping a close watch on every move of hers and toting up her takings at the end of the day. The one or two-rupee coins that persons like you and me place in the little one’s hands might end up in some adult’s hand to meet his or her demands of debauchery. That unseen person provides the child with the props of the trade, trains her how to put her made-up persona to the best use and ensures that she does not have any competitors in the vicinity. The devi-child is just a pawn in the hands of the begging mafia.
Begging is bad; organized begging is downright criminal. It is a multi-million racket. Children are kidnapped, mutilated and coerced into begging. India and other developing countries are not the only ones accursed with the malady, begging is also prevalent in developing countries such as England, where Romani beggars are a common sight outside any place of worship. Even China – the last bastion of Communism – is not free from the scourge of begging.
But why do we give in to a beggar’s stratagems and feed the greed of the begging mafia? That’s the question. The religious-minded do it because every religion counts charity among the highest virtues. The agnostics and atheists among of us may be doing it simply to shake off a pestering cadger or to rid themselves of a feeling of guilt of living in comfort while a fellow human being is so pathetically down at heels.
Giving away one or two coins to a street beggar certainly is no charity. The difference lies in the end-result. Would your offering fulfil a genuine need of the receiver? Make his or her life any better? If not, then you would be better off keeping that odd coin in your own pocket rather than giving it to a beggar.
If you are competent enough and feel an urge to be generous and help the needy, look around yourself. Surely, there would be someone in your circle of friends and acquaintances in need of help. Go and help that person with money or whichever way you can. The proximity of the receiver would give you satisfaction that your hard earned money has not gone to waste, but on the contrary, it has pulled out an acquaintance from the morass of penury.
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