A mysterious and shadowy voice calls out, “Sir…Namaste.” I look to the left, to the right, and finally down. A crippled man dressed in monk’s robes brings his hand and stump together in traditional salutation. Nodding back, I consider putting some rupees in his beggar’s bowl, but still walking, I can’t find a low enough denomination in my pocket full of monopoly money. I smile downward, salute him and continue along the crowded alleyway. My son finds change and drops it in his bowl without hesitation. The beggar continues on with his gravelly throated mantra.
No sooner are we around the corner than we are greeted by another misshapen beggar, and then another with a child, and others still, all the way to the guest house. There are so many, and I have come to know or at least recognize most of them. Like Baltimore, I have regulars. Same person, same spot, seven days a week.
Just like anywhere, not all beggars are needy. There is the Indian mother and child. There are many of them, but the presentation is always the same. First, you feel a tug on the shirt sleeve. Then, you see a young mother cradling an infant or toddler, followed the line, “Sir, please help baby. No money, just milk…please, Sir.”
If you bite, the hook is that there is a shop right next to where she stands, and there you can buy a LARGE milk for somewhere in the neighborhood of too many rupees. I’m not sure if the shop owners are in on it, but I am sure this lady does not have a refrigerator to keep it from spoiling. You may try to pass unnoticed, but they are always persistent, following, butting in on conversations with others, shoving their baby in your face, ignoring being ignored…until the next foreigner comes along.
I care deeply for people and their well-being. But over the years, I have been fighting a growing indifference that has come from the realization that in my present state, I cannot save the world.
I often wonder about my place here on the Earth. I have been given so much. I could argue that I have earned it through hard work and dedication, but it is equally true that much of my existence is in fact due to the kindness of others. In my heart, I know and try to hold this dear, because so much of the time I find I feel there is someone trying to take advantage of me. When I hang on too tightly to the transitory objects of this world, the pain of letting go causes a lot of suffering. It’s also funny that when you give freely, there is someone always there to tell you why you should not give, or why they do not give. The most difficult thing with generosity is when your motives are questioned. I think this is a test from the universe.
I have found that it is best to follow your heart in these matters. Objections to altruistic endeavors can be viewed in different ways. One view is that those who question you are only dealing with their own material attachments; another is that they genuinely care about you and do not want to see you taken advantage of; and still another is that if someone questions your motivation, as much as it stings, it might not be a bad idea to take an honest look at it. Therefore my advice is simple…I have none. Because someone telling another how or who or what they should give to is equally as ingratiating. I do what I can, and in that case I follow my heart.
Through our business, I have been fortunate enough to profit off of the labor of thousands of extremely hard-working people, making a product so expensive that even upper class Americans have a hard time justifying the cost. I know this because their designers are always trying to whittle down the price to fit into a budget (or to maximize their profit). There are real limitations to how much we can afford to give in business and in life, while not sacrificing our standard of living as well…after all, America is not cheap. There is a common argument that simply by providing employment we are doing our part to improve the lives of thousands. Trade, not Aid.
True enough…but, I will say that there is enough left over at the end of the day that I can give back to the country and community that has given so much to me. Not everyone is employable, and there is no safety net for the truly impoverished of Nepal. More so, regardless of the best efforts of many, I can see an exiled Tibetan cultural identity slowly slipping away in front of my very eyes.
What I like is being able to give and meeting the people directly that we help. Through a variety of sponsorships of nuns, students, and elders; in education, medical, and infrastructure—slowly but surely I can return what was so freely given to me. While I enjoy the act of giving, I always feel uneasy announcing it, as it takes away from the genuine nature which is the intention of the act. So for that reason, I will not go into too much detail, but I will leave it at this…
In one way or another, we are all beggars. There is something we all need, that we depend on others to give to us freely—be it shelter, food, clothing, wisdom, time…or simply a smile, so that we might be nourished.
There are no blemishes on kindness.
Check out more essays from Peter Dillon, our correspondent in Kathmandu. And see what’s happening on our facebook and twitter accounts.
