<p>The character I am writing about is a beggar from a materialistic point of view. He was suffering from leprosy. In the late nineteen sixties, every Sunday morning I woke up to the distant boom of his voice. The only word he uttered was “Narayana”. He would call the Lord from the very bottom of his soul in such a way that the sound vibration would reach Vaikunta, the abode of Vishnu.</p>.<p>His voice stirred my heart. I could not help liking it. His fingers and toes were all worn out. The nose was almost eaten away. There were hardly any lashes on his eyelids. He must have been undergoing a great deal of pain and bodily discomfort. Still, he was calling out to Lord Narayan with love and affection. It was definitely touching.</p>.<p>He dragged himself along the street, clutching a metal mug under his armpit. The dhoti he wore was clean and white. He was wearing thick white and red tilak on his forehead. Since his hands were almost fingerless I used to wonder as to who might have applied the Vaishnav mark on his forehead. Once I asked him out of curiosity what his name was. “Everyone calls me kusht," he replied smiling, making me feel ashamed of the society I live in...</p>.<p>It was my grandfather who first made me realise the benefit which the residents of our street were getting from him. “He appears to be a beggar. Actually, he is a giver. What he gives you is the transcendental vibrations of Lord Vishnu’s name. Look at his faith and trust in Lord Narayan’s name. After his death he will go to Vaikunta,” he told me one day.</p>.<p>From the ‘commission’ I made from the purchase of groceries and vegetables for our home I kept aside some coins for this ardent devotee of Lord Narayan. As soon as I heard his voice I used to go up to the gate and wait for him. When I dropped the coin into his glass he would say Narayana with a smile showing his white teeth, bringing his fingerless palms together in a gesture of salutation and gratitude. He was different from most of us who jump to blame and even curse God as soon as we face a situation or a crisis in our lives.</p>.<p>He was not just a leper or a beggar. He was a teacher. He taught me how to face and bear bodily pains and sufferings. Whenever I am challenged by an illness or circumstances, I think of him. He bore his fate without bearing any grudge for God. He was, no doubt, more virtuous than all of us.</p>
<p>The character I am writing about is a beggar from a materialistic point of view. He was suffering from leprosy. In the late nineteen sixties, every Sunday morning I woke up to the distant boom of his voice. The only word he uttered was “Narayana”. He would call the Lord from the very bottom of his soul in such a way that the sound vibration would reach Vaikunta, the abode of Vishnu.</p>.<p>His voice stirred my heart. I could not help liking it. His fingers and toes were all worn out. The nose was almost eaten away. There were hardly any lashes on his eyelids. He must have been undergoing a great deal of pain and bodily discomfort. Still, he was calling out to Lord Narayan with love and affection. It was definitely touching.</p>.<p>He dragged himself along the street, clutching a metal mug under his armpit. The dhoti he wore was clean and white. He was wearing thick white and red tilak on his forehead. Since his hands were almost fingerless I used to wonder as to who might have applied the Vaishnav mark on his forehead. Once I asked him out of curiosity what his name was. “Everyone calls me kusht," he replied smiling, making me feel ashamed of the society I live in...</p>.<p>It was my grandfather who first made me realise the benefit which the residents of our street were getting from him. “He appears to be a beggar. Actually, he is a giver. What he gives you is the transcendental vibrations of Lord Vishnu’s name. Look at his faith and trust in Lord Narayan’s name. After his death he will go to Vaikunta,” he told me one day.</p>.<p>From the ‘commission’ I made from the purchase of groceries and vegetables for our home I kept aside some coins for this ardent devotee of Lord Narayan. As soon as I heard his voice I used to go up to the gate and wait for him. When I dropped the coin into his glass he would say Narayana with a smile showing his white teeth, bringing his fingerless palms together in a gesture of salutation and gratitude. He was different from most of us who jump to blame and even curse God as soon as we face a situation or a crisis in our lives.</p>.<p>He was not just a leper or a beggar. He was a teacher. He taught me how to face and bear bodily pains and sufferings. Whenever I am challenged by an illness or circumstances, I think of him. He bore his fate without bearing any grudge for God. He was, no doubt, more virtuous than all of us.</p>