Breaking your pride

Photo by VanveenJF on Unsplash

An interesting thing happened to me a few minutes ago. A guy came to the Center. He said his son was paralyzed, and in physiotherapy. His son was also getting treatment from a buddhist monk. I've heard this kind of sob story before, and I usually just ignore it. It is a preface to a request for money. Many beggars have the story down so pat that they say it with a certain rhythm that comes from saying it so many times. So I said I didn't have any change. I do that a lot. and so do you. But then he told me something that made it all different. He was on a hingaman baaraya - a vow where he goes begging from house to house. He's hitting 7 houses in 21 villages as the vow. He would take any amount of cash, it doesn't matter what. He spoke pretty decent English too. So I gave him two bucks lying in the desk at the Center.

Then I sat down to think. We all have pride. We have pride in our work, pride in our lives, pride in the things we do. But no pride is greater than our pride in our pride. I will not beg, we say, no matter what happens. We would rather work for a meal doing the shittiest job rather than beg someone for a meal or money. Seeing someone beg for their lives, their virtue or something disturbs us. Even if we see it in a movie. Beggars disturb us not because they beg, but because they show us what could happen if we weren't so lucky to be born into the privileged position we have.

And this guy is out begging.

The Mad Monk, goes begging too. He takes his paaththaraya and goes begging for food. Then he sits and eats that unholy looking mess. Monks are supposed to beg. At least that was what the original plan was. Unlike some of the begging types in India who enter your house and take some food from the dishes (gowkari they call it), in dotelkay, they travel with the begging bowl and hope someone donates. Sometimes he comes back with a begging bowl full of soap, or sugar, or tea leaves. Those days, he doesn't eat. Not even when I go get food for him.

But back to begging. I take a certain perverse pride in my lack of care. I go around barefoot, I wear raggedy jeans and t-shirts in basic black. But I pride myself in not begging. I'm too proud to beg, I say. I prefer to starve rather than beg for food. Not that i have to starve too often. There's always a friend or auntie willing to drop off some food for me. But I ain't begging, oh no. Not me

Then I meet this guy. Who comes to me at 0800 and asks me for any money I have, no matter what the amount, so that he can fulfill his vow of begging. Why would someone make a vow like that? Would it really matter? Would his son be cured if he begged? Would I beg a hundred and twenty six people for the offchance that my kid would walk? How proud am I really?

This hingaman baaraya is about that. About leaving your pride behind. About showing that there are levels that you would go down to for the sake of someone you love. Would you beg your girlfriend to come back to you? Or maybe take you back? I've done it. Most of us have. Would you beg a school principal to take your kid into a school? Or a minister to get you a job? We usually prefer to bribe them, money costs less than our pride, and they can't sell your pride in the market.

But could I, you, anyone you know, walk up to complete strangers and ask them for money? Or for food? Or for your son's legs? I don't know the anser to that one. I really don't.

So I gave him the money I had. It wasn't much, just two bucks. But it wasn't the money he was looking for. It was, I guess, good wishes, or maybe understanding. I don't know. But I saw a man who made a vow to give up his pride for the sake of his son. I don't know if I could ever be that.

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