Resounding azaan, was the span with nostalgic silence and soothing sensation. It was a predawn when  most people often continue  tossing and turning to remain lying and dreaming. Fewer of the believers left their comfort zone to offer the first Salah of the day, when I had already seated to my place having an  aluminium bowl with rust and dirt as the main  ingredient of impurity, stale-floral-garland around the neck, gemstone rings fitted in all ten fingers to show the proficiency of beggars along with the traditional dress made up of the cloth with joints and connections of pieces oddly colored and irregularly patterned. I used to take my place at the very right corner of  the masjid.

       I disguised myself as long-thickly-contaminated hair with  long lasting fetid to excite people’s pity over me being needy and victimized of poverty. Modified the voice, I kept seeking for materialistic help to fill in my bowl and paying them back with prayers to ensure my deserving fulfillment of needs on the regular basis.

          Listening to azaan, believers march out of their homes to align themselves in the earliest possible row, I never paid the attention to offer Salah any time… yet it was my trait to keep raising my voice so as to ask for the mercy of His people but not Him.

    People came and went, helped and cursed on me and other beggars… pointed,mocked and teased and some advised to choose a respectable profession. It was me who never put an ear feeling these as disgusts. I was an efficient professional. Yet I knew the traits to increase the profit in my daily begging. I have been perfectly physical strength with no impairment of any kind. But depending on other’s provided loaves and coins was my ultimate need. 

         I found people directing their off-springs or grand-children to help the beggars by provision of anything they could offer to help us instantly, there had been a motive  to make kids learn to help the needy. Although they came from  well-organised backgrounds, as they were witnessed doing good with poor. 

       I had been indulged into this trashy walk of life, since my fore-fathers migrated here and adopted this cheap earning of life. I used to laugh of fooling innocent people through pleading. I was never bothered by anything except when a boy of approximately 5 years came to provide me with his partial amount of pocket-money as was directed by his father. He stimulated the strings of my brain by saying on and on ‘ I will ask my Allah Almighty to help me for success in final assessment and you please pray for me too. Allah will help you too beggar uncle!! He is the best provider’.  

     The words penetrated to my thoughts making me feel suffice of His help… His provision. Within a short period of time, I sensed the shaken soul trying to plead the Almighty Lord. I got up and dusted off myself to get rid of this cursed life, so as to bow my forehead in sujood to get up in my life.

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