The Lesson I Learnt on Charity (682 words)

I had known that elderly woman, Sarala mami (aunty), even before my marriage. She used to visit my mother’s home. Once, she had belonged to a middle-class family, but circumstances had slowly pushed them into hardship. She had a gentle, dignified face but one that carried the quiet traces of a life filled with struggles.

Sarala mami had three daughters. Somehow, she had managed to settle two of them in life. The family were struggling now, and whatever they earned was barely enough to meet their daily needs. Now the third daughter had to be married, but there was no money.

Mami had been going from one familiar door to another, seeking whatever help she could find. She had obtained my address from my mother and come to see me. My mother had called me beforehand.

“If you can, please help her with some money, or buy her some clothes. Poor woman… they were once in a good position, and now they are undergoing much hardship,” she had said.

I spoke to my husband on the phone and gave mami ₹5,000, along with a silk saree I had at home.

“Please stay and have a cup of coffee before you leave,” I told her.

She was overwhelmed with happiness. She hugged me, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I must have done some good deed in a previous life to receive the affection of someone as kind as you,” she said.

A little later, while I was inside readying coffee, I heard a voice at the doorway.

“Amma…”

I went out to see who it was.

It was my flower seller selling flowers at the entrance of the Ganesha temple.

“Amma, my husband suddenly had severe chest pain. I’ve admitted him to the government hospital. I need ₹2,000 for the expenses. I’m trying to collect a little from several people I know. I couldn’t muster much.  I’ll repay you later by giving you flowers. Please give me whatever you can.”

I hesitated.

“I’m very busy with work right now. My husband isn’t home either. Come later. We’ll see,” I said, politely but firmly. 

I didn’t know whether her story was true. And frankly, I had a petty grouse that she never let me bargain and was curt about her price. No doubt her flowers were always fresh and good.

Without giving her time to continue, I went back inside to prepare the coffee.

A little while later, I heard voices at the entrance. When I stepped outside, I saw Sarala mami giving the flower seller ₹200.

A sharp irritation rose within me.

I felt that mami, whom I had just helped, was taking the charity amount as her own and passing it on to the flower seller.

“Mami, I gave that money to you because you needed it very much. How can you give it away like this?” I asked, rather sharply.

The elderly woman looked at me quietly.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t know whether that woman was telling the truth or not. But what if she really was in deep trouble? What if something happened to her husband for want of money because I refused to help her? I was afraid of that. I know personally what it feels like to struggle, and I simply couldn’t bear to turn her away.”

She folded her hands.

“Please forgive me. I beg you.”

My anger disappeared immediately.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I should have helped her myself. I was only worried that you were giving away the money you needed most. Here, take another ₹1,000. Everything will be all right.”

As an afterthought, I asked her, " Mami, if you meet the flower seller at the end of the road, please ask her to see me immediately.”

That day, I learnt a simple lesson: kindness is not diminished when it is shared.

I had thought I was helping the elderly mami, but in the end, she was the one who taught me compassion.

Sometimes, the people whom we help are the very ones who help us become better human beings.