That Sunday night I took the bus to Palakkad. He sat on the side seat and looked out the window. My eyes were full of natural beauty. Many shops have disappeared from me. I saw people doing many jobs for an early meal. I saw those who were basking in the sun and those who were in the shade. Suddenly the bus stopped at a stop. I was shocked and looked outside. That’s when the sight caught my eye. Old school boy. I called him Grandpa. At first I thought there would be a child with the grandfather and the bag would belong to that child. But that grandfather was alone. That bag was grandfather’s bag. Later I thought that grandfather was waiting for the carriage. He showed his hand as if to say stop. I took a closer look and the sign language was not to stop the car. He reached out and placed his hand on his chest.
That’s when I realized that grandfather was a beggar. I kept looking at my grandfather. By then the bus was starting to move slowly. That grandfather disappeared from my sight. I wanted to help my grandfather. But these days there are two types of beggars. One, those who extend their hands in front of others for an early meal, and two, those who pretend to be beggars and extend their hands with various other purposes in mind. When I saw that beggar grandfather, I felt like a beggar of the first kind. Later, till I reached Palakkad, my thoughts were about Bagitta Appupan. After reaching Palakkad, I stayed at my uncle’s house after my needs.
The light of the sunrise and the crowing of the rooster roused me from sleep. After breakfast he went to the garden. After spending some time there, get on the bus from there at 10:30. By the time we arrived at the same bus stop, a lot of time had passed. I opened my inner eye and looked at that grandfather. It was still in the same place today. The same thing that was done yesterday is still being shown in sign language today. Will no one help grandpa until this time today…? Hasn’t grandpa eaten anything…? If something happens to that grandfather, isn’t everyone here today who has the ability to help but doesn’t help…? The bus moved on. The beggar’s grandfather went away from me. Even today, when I go to my uncle’s house, when I arrive at that bus stop, the first thing in my mind is the grandfather who carried the bag. Unforgettable photo…
Summary of Contents: Malayalam Experience Note ‘Maayaatha Chithram’ written by Jinsha A. Palakkad
