Hopes Raised

Fine, graceful gesture from the bent old fat beggar with the walking stick. During Ramadan he had donned a songkok and shirt rather than his usual scruffy get-up. The group at table had just dismissed a tall Indian perfume seller with a nice open face and bright smile. Short shrift you would have called that reception, though not disrespectful of course. This fellow on his slow approach had received a couple of subtle once-overs from the chubby young chap on the end of the table. Malay–Indian possibly himself: not dissimilar in size, aspect and feature—age aside. (The earlier Perfume man deviated from this norm—likely an outsider come down from Malaysia for the pickings.) One look had taken in the brown paper bag the Beggar clutched in his hand. Fries; not perfume or tissues for sale. Neither this look nor the other general survey that followed appeared in the slightest encouraging. You would have bet nada at that table, slimmest of chances. From where the Beggar stood however there was sunshine. The man’s more acute antennae sensed something in the offing from the outset and against the visible evidence hopes had been raised. Bent at the table and leaning in, the man even ventured to lay his hand on the table-top for support. A little Whack! Whad’ya think ya doin? in another locale similar circs. For an instant there was some concern for the old bugger here. Rapido from that point and difficult to take in altogether: slight slackening of the firm features at the end of the table; the wife beside stirring in her chair independently it seemed; and flowering smiles from the Beggar that were not any kind of added inducement. Some little understanding, acknowledgement, shared spirit had descended. What really made the occasion was the gesture of thanks it might have been, bundled with something else like perhaps good expectations or hopes from above. With the broader smile and mimed words only, the Beggar first clutched at the young man’s forearm, following which he raised his hand to his forehead. Covering and then wiping his eyes in a kind of cleansing motion that suggested a purification of some sort perhaps, one that would redound to those at table. It did seem offered to them, to the man on the end in the first instance and radiating from there. Benevolence to the needy delivered good of course; that was explicit in the community of Muslims. Pity, active compassion, aiding those in need was not only a good in itself, but gave hopes of benefit beyond. This was a green fiver too—not coin or lavender Two. That denomination though was not as a consequence of the performance—the timing and sequence was out for that to be the case.