Let me See his hands

Placed strategically at the entrance of the hotel, a skewer revolves over a continuous fire. A huge chunk of meat revolves along with this skewer. A roti is shown over the fire and meat slivers are cut and rolled into this roti. This is called a chicken Shawarma which in Turkish means "turning". A popular dish in Bangalore; you can find quite a few hotels sporting the Shawarma skewer and providing an inviting picture.

What would you do if a poor old man stopped you at a traffic junction and ask you for a rupee.

Would you give?

Or would you wave him away telling yourself that you should not encourage a social evil called "begging" and go on your way.

You could be right if you thought the latter. Maybe he really was looking for an easy way out and took to haunting traffic signals.

People have different ways of handling such sitations. And maybe you have one too. For instance an ex-colleague of mine, a chain smoker and a star sales guy who introduced me to the corporate world - God bless him - would drop his hand into his pocket and drop whatever came into that proferred hand. It could be a ten rupee note or a one rupee coin. His logic "I spend more money than this on cigarettes but with that money that man would eat for a day".

As for me, I normally pass such people by, dropping a coin if they were very insistent. A timid person therefore had no chance of getting a ruppee from me. This was my modus operandi... at least it was till that day.

I was checking out the various Shawarma stalls in my new neighborhood. The Shawarma had to taste good and be less than 30 bucks - the benchmark being the Imperial Shawarma on Millers road (now the shawarma chef has changed and its not that great anymore).

This stall I went to that day had a tasty looking shawarma skewer. It also had at the entrance, a shabby looking old man partly hidden in the shadows . Now this was delicate. He could see clearly what I was buying - chunks of meat - and it would be rather heartless for me to buy all that and pass him buy. I pointedly did not look him, hidden as he was in the shadows, this made it easier. I placed my order and was contemplating the best possible route to my bike so that I could avoid him.

The Shawarma was ready. Kept a few loose change in my pocket in case that old man was insistent and walked to my bike ignoring the old man.

He took a few steps towards my bike..

I was astride my bike,hanging the plastic bag with the shawarma on the handle bar..

His shadow moved slowly but surely towards my bike..

I turned the key in the ignition and in the same moment hit the kick start..

The shadow came closer..

The bike sputtered and stopped..Damn!

Well I thought to myself, let him ask then I shall give him. Let me see him raise his hands.

The shadow stopped

I kept my face averted to the ground. I could see his feet while I fiddled with the choke and stuff to get the bike started again. He would not go back.

Fine.. but let me see his hands.. then I'd give him.

No movement from his side.

The bike started. I paused. Let me see his hands and I'd surely give him.

The shadow was still.

And just when I engaged the gear and moved past him I looked up. I saw his sad pleading eyes and his hands - hands that he never raised - Hands that he did not have!

That was the last time I waited for someone to ask.