The Beggar

The pauperise Our motorcar stopped at the intersection and waited for the common light. My boyfriend and I were in truth excited with the beautiful Friday afternoon. The nose was blowing on my face. My body was swinging with the sounds of drums and clarions from the radios music. Out of the window, I st ared at the strange mass who were walking down the street stack away donations. A lady came up to our car and with a grin on her face, restfully said, Please! Would you mind giving us many money so that we could have enough provender for the animals in our zoo? I didnt respond immediately because I was remembering an incident that happened two years ago in Viet Nam.

The scenery of the New Year days was so lovely. Birds flapped their wings, twittering in the green trees, and people went in flocks to watch the exciting divulge of the regatta. My friends and I were talking in front of my house mend watching people passing.

Look, girl! Do you see him? The reality at the corner is your father, isnt he? You look like him¦ha¦ha¦ha, my friend, Tom, was laughing at me.

My face turned red. I said, Whats wrong with you, people? Dont joke like that¦please. I was truly embarrassed and mad. I knew they were still teasing me and assuming an delusive relationship between him--the beggar--and me. But I didnt care often about what my friends said; my mind was now pointed to that beggar.

The presence of the onetime(a) man sitting with arms clasping his knees broke the noisy atmosphere. I didnt know his real name, where he came from, or who his family was, nor did anyone in my sm solelyish town. He was a very mysterious man. Once in a while, some spoiled children saw him; they threw sand at him, yelling, Beggar man¦beggar man¦. From that time, Beggar became his name.

*He looked so different from everyone else. Immediately, at the first glance, anyone could recognize he was a forgetful beggar. Beggar wore a threadbare, faded chocolate-brown shirt. Especially, while he was sitting, his back was bent like a thin C. His long, disheveled and tangled hair was full of dust. The shaggy beard all over his black face curling and covered around his black and blue lips. He was moreover like the weirdest prehistoric person I had ever study in my history class. He stared at his desolate, small, ragged dish antenna, empty except for a few cents. He stared at that bag with his soulless eyes. He was silent like a shadow.

The people living near in that respect were shouting at him cruelly, set their reach, and give tongue toing, Beggar! part out of here! ¦Beggar! Get out¦, but he still sit down there quietly. They did that because they suasion he would taint their homes. It seemed he didnt hear anything. I wondered why he didnt move to an different town that energy have a better breeding for him, or maybe he wasnt welcomed anywhere he went. At the same time, a lady wearing a dress with a low-neck livestock holding her lover with one arm while the other held a cigarette which she smoked quite professionally, pointed her face up to the sky as if she didnt want to notice that poor ragamuffins presence. They well-tried to pass him quickly. But before they could, the beggar turned up his face and looked at their backs, his voice broken, and whined, Please¦ give me some money¦ theology bless you. His two lumpy, rugged hands shook the bag uncontrollably toward them. Realizing their negative response, he take down his wrinkled-up face. Silently, his eyes closed as if he accepted his poor destiny. How meritless for him! Time after time, he still sat there, desiring only some very small present from ardent, kind- nervused persons. And again, he stooped lower, his two hands tightening even more. He understood how ill his old body was. In addition, he had no family, no friends. He had nothing. All of them pushed him to accept the beggardom that seemed the life for the lowest class in the society. He felt no confidence in his present life. Because of that, maybe he thought he didnt have any right to respond for his honour and also he was really tired of struggling for his fractious and lonely life. As a 17 year-old girl, I was very lucky and happy to live in my beloved parents warm fostering.



I couldnt imagine how I would act if everybody treated me with such(prenominal) a frigid attitude. I felt my blood freezing. Suddenly, tears were in my eyes, and also in my heart. His body shivered in the modify spring breeze.

Hey, Vy, where are you going? Hey¦hey, my friends were screaming.

As I track the small rough street, my heart beat faster and faster. I whispered to myself, Come on. Dont be nervous! He wont attenuate you. I felt some coins and paper money my mammy gave me as a present for the New Year jingly and mixed together in my pocket. I put all of them into his bag and immediately rushed home, swift as an arrow. I couldnt exactly explain the strange feeling coming by dint of my body; I was smiling all the way home.

untroubled job, girl, Tom said. We were quiet a moment, all of us sounding at him. Beggars face seemed radiant with a gentle smile. Suddenly, he turned up his eyes and it seemed that he tried to say to me warmly with a confident smile as if he had just found a good friend for himself, God bless you, my child. I was smiling again and said softly, You are welcome. Vy¦Vy¦ What are you thinking about? My boyfriend beat softly at my shoulder.

Huh¦nothing. Did you give the lady money? Yes, maam. I was smiling. The car was still running, and my mind was still picturing Beggar. Although that money couldnt vex to Beggar a comfortable life forever, I thought, at least, he wouldnt be hungry and didnt need to think frequently about the meals for that evening and some of the next cold days. My heart had been filled with compassion for him. He was still struggling for his pitiful life. Looking at the beggar before I had deceased with my friends for the festival in the downtown, I had realized that his eyes were sheen with firm confidence. He left his footprints in my heart. Both of us, Beggar and I, had the same thought: in this world, not everyone is a inure person.

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