The Beggars

It happened on my journey in India in October/ November 2015.

I had booked a few days more after our goup tour. Our group leader asked me, if I would like to join her to visit two fameous cities south of Jaipur. Oh, yes, that I would appreciate to do! She is also very connected to Kuthumi and thus I would be among my own kind in a foreign surrounding.

Sameer, our touristguide took us with his car and so we drove from Jaipur to Ajmer and Pushkar through a beautiful plane landscape of Rajasthan.

Arrived in Ajmer we parked our car in a garage and hired a Tuc Tuc to bring us to the local mosque.

It‘s a welknown place of pilgrimage, that daily attracts many people.

On the large site in front of the mosque were enormeous numbers of people, that were about singular, in small groups or in big family associations or sitting together. There also were some goats and dogs, that were strolling amongst the croud looking for food.

For the Indian we with our western looks were a real tourist-attraction. They would cluster round us, let themselves photograph with us or would ask for a photo with just both of us on it. That was so much fun!

Inside the mosque, that was open to all sides and solely surrounded by huge columns, there were sitting or laid down many, eating, relaxed contemplating or sunk deeply into prayer, too.

No, it hasn‘t been quite there, it was quite a lot up!

Over and over again I admired the beauty of the Indian women in their colourful saris, the beautiful brown colour of their skin; almost always they were richly adorned with earrings, bracelets, bangles. Even when looking closely -their saris were dirty, they would radiate beauty, sobriety, a composure…

I couldn‘t get enough watching them!

After staying there for quite a while, Sameer suggested to walk back to our car by feet along the unridden street through the city. This would be interesting for us to experience this long shopping street.
We agreed and walked towards the stairway, that would lead us down to the street.

Still in the area of the mosque two people caught my eye, that were sitting on a small knoll under a sunshade. One was talking bustling towards the other and this one – had flat legs, flatpressed like plates from up to the ankles. I was surprised. Something like this I had never seen before!

We reached the stairs, smelled odours from Indian prepared food, but also the odours of moldiness were breezing towards us.

I felt a bit unease.

When climbing down the stairs, Sameer had suddenly disappeared. He then would appear again carrying huge plastic- bags in both of his hands full of fruits. Those he reached out to gift to the people lingering on the steps and thankfully accepting them.

The group guide was chatting with a vendor at his CD-Electronic-stall.

Then we walked on.

Everywhere there were stalls and shops, in which the people offered their wares:

foodstuff, kitchen-appliances, colourful textil fabrics, jewelry, furnitures…

One stall made quite an impression on me: there were big pieces of meat all over the place hanging and laying. Over a small fireplace, some food was roasting, several goats were lashed waiting for their meal and – completely all over the place were flies…

Well, already the stairway down a Saddhu accompanied us praising to us his Shiwa-symbols made of wood and brazen. ‚Oh no, please, leave us alone!‘ we shouted out to him. Hopefully he soon would give up following us!

A woman, wheeling a wheelchair through the croud, came towards us. Therein was sitting a young person, spastic crippled, waving about with her arms.

To the right and left, there were sitting beggars, many, so many beggars. And there were yet more crippled people accompanied by their relevants moving about.

I grasped: here I would only get through walking like a Master. Otherwise all these impressions would just overwhelm me. I straightened up, took a few deep breaths and proceeded.

My focus was now directly in my heart and I looked through my eyes with the presence of my soul. This was amazing, because frequently they would meet with the eyes of passersbies, of women and children. Each time it would be a greeting from heart to heart, from soul to soul, full of friendliness and recognition…

Now the street extended straight and long.

Above it all has been decorated with chains of lights. ‚Diwali‘ was close to come, a celebration annually performed all over India in November in honor of Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity.

And to the right and left side there were lying the beggars.

Some were creeping over the street there on their belly, two males were crippled with almost similar twisted limbs, one without feet was lying transvers amongst some others, that were begging for alms, completely covered with dust.

Luckily I would have these beautiful eye-contacts.

At the end after almost one hour walking through there I felt I couldn‘t endure any longer.

Soon we had reached our car and snuggeling in our seats. I then did a loud long outcry.

‚Oh, Sameer, I‘ll take you in my arms later‘, the groupguide tried to allay our touristguide.

‚Ah, don‘t worry, this is my way of singing mantras‘, I replied laughingly.

It had been such an extreme experience for me, when walking down that street. I felt so affected!

Those humans, how would their everyday lives look like, who would help them with going to the toilette, who would wash them, who would help them getting dressed? I couldn‘t imagine this.

In India they don‘t have a social network like there is fe in Germany, that takes care of such people. They were much more left to their own device.

Well at night I would walk back and forth in my hotelroom. I felt such a pity for them! How would I be able to sleep that distraught?

So I sat down, breathed, stood up again, breathed deeply, walked around in the room, breathing…

I felt, I had nothing to give to these people as long as I felt pity. This would only enhance their suffering.

I tried to calm down and catched a thought: maybe they are young souls and want to ground themselves by being that close to the earth. ‚Oh, dear God‘, I prayed, then please let their lives be short at least…‘

Ah, what an arrogance of me, I thought. What do I know about their souls? Maybe their creation was to make just this exact experience.

Frequently I checked my system, how the massage would look like, that came off from me towards these beggars. And again and again I would hit on resedues of pity.

With this pitifulness I abated, degraded them…

I let myself dive deeper and deeper inside, until I suddenly hit point zero. There was only nothingness, everything neutral, nothing that was rustling up, was judging, was rebucing.

And there, in this stillness God reached out to me, the nothing, that is everything at the same time and LOVE.

I breathed and woke up from my dream.

In this LOVE I was able to look at these people with open eyes and an open heart and share, that ‚they are God also‘, that from their very essence in freedom they can be and become whatever they choose, forever.

Perhaps not in this lifetime, but they would henceforth be able to choose – together with their soul, what they wanted to live, to be.

This I could share with them, because we are as humans the same in this.

I radiated from my room towards them and was able to shed this energy of LOVE abundantly towards them

and… towards myself.

Yes, this realisation from now on I would apply to myself, whenever I would feel defeated, feel victimized.

In this depth I would always be able to raise up in my sovereignty and invent myself anew.

This night – in the most simple room along our jouney, on the most uncomfortable mattress, I slept for twelve hours in a row…