Madam a Sandwich Please

“In this highly electronic and techno era, where fundamentals, manners and charisma are dwindling from the sector who claims as human beings; somewhere in a corner of the globe lived a child…….”

I was drained and exhausted this evening after work at the office. Yet I had to attend my accountancy class. I had a big green funny type of string bag which I put on my shoulder with my books and files. My office pals had named it “Daula.” I am still not aware of what it means. Yet, I appreciated the funny word, which never mattered to me. I laughed to myself…..

The class was cancelled because the yawning, soft-spoken Sir had met with a motor car accident!! As young children, we were naughty. Cheers! We shouted, not exactly rejoicing about the accident, but we were all bored with his lectures. All the students dispersed as fast as possible before another would take the class.

I wear a sari to the office. I distinctly remember I wore a woolly georgette sari with a design of a light mauve colour jacket. Fashion during the early nineties!

I was standing in the queue for the 174 bus. The queue wriggled like a long snake…..

The shouts of the bus conductors, the announcements of the lottery ticket man and odd music being played were irritating. Buses were very scarce and jam-packed during office hours.

Suddenly, I realised that a well-dressed young boy standing with a crutch was staring at me with a whimsical smile. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and wondered why?

He walked up to me. ‘Madam, a sandwich please’, he said.

I felt embarrassed because several people in the queue heard his plea.

I am not a rude person by nature but a bit reluctant to communicate with strangers.

‘I am sorry I don’t have one.’ I said. I thought this young man was hungry or was trying to get my attention, and anyway, why me when there were so many other men and women standing at the busy bus stop.

He didn’t move.

‘Why?’ I questioned.

He went on to speak more. ‘Can’t you remember me?’

‘Definitely no.’ I said and looked away.

‘Figure me out, the disabled beggar boy who came begging with a rusty tin in a pair of dirty shorts and a torn vest. You were a school girl then. You wore a clean white uniform with a blue tie.’ He spoke at length.

My heart missed a beat as I couldn’t recollect his face, but my memory flashed…his disabled leg dangling, limping, holding the rail of the bus stop, crying for coins and pleading for food. He was just tall enough to reach the railing and had matted curly hair around his barely washed face.

I stared at him in amazement!

He smiled back at me very humbly, raised his hands, and worshipped me, holding on to his crutch.

‘Please, no and why?’ I uttered, quite disturbed.

‘Madam, I always wished I would meet you one day. Today my dream has come true.’

‘One day when I was begging, people ignored me, cursed me and asked me to go away, mumbling disgusting words. I was very, very hungry. I had not had any food for the whole day. It was almost 2.30 pm in the afternoon. You took a sandwich from your tiffin box and offered it to me. I remember I sat on the cement floor and gobbled it down. You were like a goddess who waved a wand at me.’

Later in life, I guessed you were returning from school.

‘As soon as I saw you I used to come limping and you would give me a sandwich.’

‘You as a little school girl was extremely kind to save a sandwich for me.’

One day, you asked me ‘Oyata akuru kiyawanna puluwanda?’ (Can you read letters?)

I was about nine years old then. I remember giving the answer, ‘Yes.’

I edged out of the queue for the people to move forward.

He related his sad life story.

‘My mother in her school days became pregnant with me and was chased out of the house by her brothers. She was not from Colombo. She managed to come to Colombo. When she was sleeping at the Pettha bus stand, a woman noticed her, and took her to her house. After some months she delivered me. This woman wanted my mother to be a sex worker and earn money and had offered her contraceptives not to become pregnant again. She refused and managed to flee from her.’

‘I was born disabled. ‘He said.

Tears filled my eyes. I shuddered at what I was hearing. I was frightened to listen or comment. Is this a hoax…?

I remember the ‘sandwich’ incident and giving a beggar boy storybooks, colouring books, pencils and crayons.

I couldn’t recollect seeing him during my advanced level school days….

‘She worked in houses on some days or cleaned vegetables in the market. She taught me letters. She was adamant that I studied and did well in life. I didn’t go to school at that time and begged for my mother and me. Some days I collected twenty rupees. She too earned and we lived for the day.’

He never mentioned where they lived. I never asked him too. I didn’t have to.

‘Madam, you gave me the Sinhala story books “Handaya” and “Hath Pana” exercise books, crayons and pencils.’

When he mentioned the names of the books, I was sure it was he who was standing in front of me.

He continued, ‘The then government was hauling up all the beggar children and other beggars. I was lucky to be one of them. The social service took me and there were a lot more. I told them I want to attend school and learn to do a job and one day look after my mother.’

‘I studied; I am waiting for admission to the campus to do a degree in commerce. Presently, I am employed in a bank. My mother and I live in a small annex.’

I regularly come to this bus stand; I hope I will meet you to say “Thank you”. Your appearance has not changed; now, you are not in uniform but wear a sari. The sandwich helped me to survive. The books given by you gave me the courage to learn. You were my inspiration!

‘Madam, thank you for your kindness and I have no words to express my thoughts.’

I am happy; my dream came true.’

‘Ok, ok.’ I said.

Did I hear right?

I was embarrassed and surprised and tried to choose words that I couldn’t.

He raised his hands again.

‘No,’ I said.

‘I need to go home now. I am very happy for you. Be good in life and bless you with a bright future.’ I said with a heartfelt smile.

The evening was shocking and confusing.

Did I say enough, I wonder?

‘Please wait.’ He said

I stood in the middle of the bus stop staring at my own thoughts.

He vanished on the crutch and appeared with a bar of giant chocolate in his hand.

‘Madam, please accept this from me as a token of gratitude. It will make me happy for the rest of my life.’

I kept on looking at his outstretched arm. I visualised the little child who begged with the rusty tin, now a man capable of living in this fast-moving world.

‘Thank you.’ I said

He touched my heart as a young man with exquisite qualities to admire and as an example for the young and old.

‘Will anyone believe this story of him today?’

This is a true story and my experience in life. So he must be somewhere in this world doing well, happy and contented.