My Boyhood Pedestrian Friends                                                                                                      Part III

My own home life was a disaster. My little sister continued to bite me when I slept. She dismembered my books and ate my chalks.Yet, she was the little princess. I was always the one to be punished for slapping her mischievous bottom. And my father continued to be a pawn in the chess game between his mother and mine. For every mean left hook my grandmother possessed, my mother had a vicious uppercut. The way he dealt with his frustration was to make me memorize even more stuff.

I found relief by hanging out with my pedestrian friends.The blind beggar down the street corner was called Pichai meaning 'beggar' in Tamil. No one knew his real name nor would he reveal. Whenever he removed his dark glasses, his marble white eyes proved that he was not faking it yet my grandmother had her own doubts.

He'd ask, "Bharat, can you give me a word of inspiration?" He was a good singer and made up his songs. I'd say, "Masala!" He'd laugh and create a new song. This was our daily routine. When he sang people would gather around whether they paid him or not.

"Do you feel sorry for being blind, then begging?"

"Yes, I do. I had often thought of suicide. But there are people at the bottom who suffer more than me so I simply go on."
"Like who? Who are at the bottom?"

"I was born blind. I don't see sunlight but feel its warmth. I pity those who saw the sun in all its glory then lost it. That must hurt badly."

"Isn't there something else you can do instead of begging?" My grandmother hated street peddlers.

"I am blind, my friend, so my choices are limited. Begging is the most humiliating experience. Do you know how many people have spat on me thinking I could see? Do you know that even a blind man has visions no earthlings had ever seen? Pictures of a painted world unmentioned in poetry. A new universe of colors that only a blind man sees in his darkness?"
 
I understood his pain. "What is your real name? I know it is not Pichai."

He smiled. "A name means nothing. You call a hungry dog any name with food and it will come to you. I make no apologies for my name since I am a beggar."

My grandmother as usual was calling for me. Had only Hitler met her, he'd have hired her on the spot since she was the Gestapo, the SS and the Luftwaffe all rolled into one.

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