Chapter 1: An Unexpected Lesson

In the spring of 2005, I was on my way home from work, riding in a taxi. The cab halted at a red light, and surprisingly, the weather was pleasant, with a gentle breeze. Just then, a beggar approached my window.

At that moment, I thought to myself, “A beggar, really?”

He implored for money, but I averted my gaze, avoiding any eye contact. This scenario was familiar; beggars often approached at intersections, persistently asking until you either helped them out or the signal changed.

I had experienced the annoyance of giving to one only to be immediately approached by another group, which felt like harassment. Some were quite aggressive, attempting to reach through the window or hurling curses if I chose not to give. I recall a group of children cursing me, predicting my failure in exams, and a woman threatening that I would soon be abandoned by my husband, ending up like her.

Frustrated, I questioned why they didn't seek employment instead of resorting to begging. After all, I was in a stable position—employed, with a comfortable home, and enough money to afford a taxi. I felt a sense of pride in my circumstances, believing I had earned the right to feel superior.

While I wasn’t wealthy, I certainly enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle. I had experienced success early in my career, not due to connections but through hard work and overcoming numerous obstacles. My background was humble; my father was an immigrant who faced significant challenges.

When the British rule in India ended, my father, barely two years old at the time, relocated to India with his widowed mother and siblings after their home became part of East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). They endured considerable hardship, yet by the time I was born, they had established a stable life. My father was part of the Indian Navy, while my uncle and aunt had their careers in the merchant navy and marine engineering college respectively.

Despite our comfortable circumstances, we lived simply. My father and his siblings never forgot their struggles. I grew up hearing stories of their difficult education and life experiences, including my aunt's near brushes with violence. Although I had never faced extreme poverty myself, I respected the value of hard work, which perhaps fueled my disdain for begging.

I was aware of others’ hardships; I vividly remember an elderly woman selling goods on the street. She worked tirelessly, and I often gave her more than she requested, cherishing her grateful smile. However, one day, she vanished from her usual spot, leaving me to ponder my missed opportunities to help further. This sparked my desire to contribute to social change, even considering joining an NGO.

Throughout the years, I felt a sense of pride in my achievements, particularly as I climbed the corporate ladder. I often looked down on those who seemed to waste their time, judging those who socialized rather than pursued careers. I believed money equated to power and sought financial freedom, which bolstered my self-worth.

My success garnered attention from former classmates who had previously ignored me, which only inflated my ego further.

On that fateful day at the traffic light, as I avoided the beggar, I made a silent plea for the light to change. Just then, the signal turned green, and I braced myself for the inevitable curse from the beggar. But before the taxi driver drove away, the beggar softly said, “God bless you, my child!”

Stunned, I didn’t expect such kindness. I turned, but the cars behind us had closed in, and I couldn’t see him anymore. Tears streamed down my face as feelings of shame and guilt washed over me.

How could he, with nothing to his name, show such compassion to someone who had ignored him? I had always considered myself kind-hearted, but this moment shattered that illusion. Had I been in his position, I would have likely cursed me, just as I’d seen others do.

This encounter revealed a profound truth: true power lies not in wealth or status, but in the capacity for compassion and forgiveness. That day marked a significant turning point in my life; I learned that real strength comes from the heart.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Chapter 2: Reflections on Life and Loss

Is there truly life after death?