Manu stared at the old man’s stained teeth smiling at him. ‘Here, here, little boy, take it, take it,’ the old man insisted. Manu looked at the parcel and took it eagerly. He returned the old man’s smile and ran straight home. That is, to the big tree they took shelter under, at night. The [...]

The Sundaytimes Sri Lanka

A beggar’s tale

View(s):

Manu stared at the old man’s stained teeth smiling at him. ‘Here, here, little boy, take it, take it,’ the old man insisted. Manu looked at the parcel and took it eagerly. He returned the old man’s smile and ran straight home. That is, to the big tree they took shelter under, at night.

The smell of the parcel was so mouthwatering it didn’t take long for his little hands to open it. There was rice, a bit of dhall curry and a strip of papadam. Manu smiled. This meager meal was a feast to him. He took a handful of rice and brought it up to his mouth gingerly. As he savoured the tasty moment, he remembered his mom. Will she come here tonight? Or would he be alone like yesterday? If she comes, will she be hungry?

Manu sighed and wrapped up the parcel again. He put it among the roots of the tree. Assuring that it was secure, he lay back. Manu was very tired after his morning begging rounds. His little legs ached. He put an arm between his eyes and the scorching sun and dreamt of his mother’s smiling face.

Manu slept long and tight until a sound of licking, tugging and growling woke him up. He opened his eyes half-heartedly to see four furry legs. ‘Gah!’ Manu gasped and jumped up. The startled dog made his escape, leaving what was left of Manu’s feast. A knot tightened in Manu’s throat as he saw the empty parcel. Tears blurred his sight and washed his dirty cheeks. Little Manu flopped down and sobbed. He cried and cried and cried. The sun faded and the flowers withered and a little boy was weeping on the pavement. Sadly, none of the passers-by bothered to wipe the little beggar’s tears.

Though it is not uncommon to read of sad stories about the very poor, what was touching here was the reason the child was crying. No matter how he is being used by adults to gain their own ends, the love of a mother, the desire to please her is common to this homeless vagrant as well as to any child under the sun. 

Send in your
Flash Fiction
stories to
Mirror Lit,
Madhubashini Dissanayake
Rathnayake
C/o The Sunday Times,
No. 8 Hunupitiya,
Cross Road,
Colombo 2

Share This Post

DeliciousDiggGoogleStumbleuponRedditTechnoratiYahooBloggerMyspace

Advertising Rates

Please contact the advertising office on 011 - 2479521 for the advertising rates.