The Boy Who Was a Lost Cause

Street brawls at a young age. Hooliganism with his peers. Spouting every curse word imaginable without even knowing their meaning. Petty theft at home. Sneaking off to smoke bidis and chew tobacco. Bunking school to hang out with gangs at their dens. And when the headmaster demanded to see his parents, convincing a friend or someone close to pose as a brother or sister-in-law to speak on his behalf…I was introduced to a boy who had done all of this. What could a boy like this possibly do with his life? Or rather, what further depths could he sink to? The thought crossed my mind. We are always in such a hurry to label people. Someone skips school or doesn’t study? The boy is a lost cause. We dismiss a young man struggling to find his footing by saying, "Nothing will ever become of you." We come across someone simple or unassuming, and we are quick to brand him a fool, an idiot. Then we treat them in a way that only validates our own judgment. But for some reason, I kept listening.“I was always a strange child,” he began to tell me. “In my free time, my mind would wander. I once wondered what a rat must feel when it drinks the rat poison? So, I drank a little myself. Well, I collapsed feeling dizzy, but I got the answer to my question. The pigs and dogs on the street eat dung. What does that feel like? So I tasted it once. After hearing news reports of jilted lovers throwing acid on their girlfriends, I poured a little acid on my own hand…”At this point, I began to have serious doubts about the man’s mental health.Then, in a moment of profound crisis, he saw the tears of helplessness in the eyes of his father—a man who had tried everything to discipline him—and behind those tears he saw an undying love for his son. In that instant, something shook inside the boy. Long ago, upon being told by his family that they were not partners in his sins, a waylayer Valya had a moment of truth and then went on to become the great sage Valmiki, who wrote Ramayana. Something like that happened with this boy. Valya became Valmiki, the sage. This boy, this modern-day Valya, became a doctor.He had no job and no money to start a clinic. So, he began to walk. From village toy village, grinding the soles of his feet, going door-to-door to offer medical care. He was besieged by despair and frustration. The path ahead was dark. In people’s eyes, he saw only distrust and contempt. His income was negligible, but the insults and disrespect were immense.In this sorry state he met another ‘father.’ This father had been abandoned by his own children and family. He was a nameless man who lived on the streets of that village and  begged to survive. And it was this father who gave the young doctor physical, mental and indirectly, financial support. When the grateful boy asked, “How can I ever repay you?” the old man replied, “There is no point in repaying the one who helped you. Instead, you offer the same support to someone else in need. Consider my debt repaid.”The boy gathered himself. With the victuals of this ‘Game of Support’ given by his new father, he left the village.Eventually, he got a job in a large corporate where he slowly rose to become its Maharashtra head. It was a multinational company, which allowed him to travel half the world, even to the US. I was a little surprised, but I thought to myself, well, some people just get lucky. At least he’s living a good life now. His fortunes have turned…During those affluent, comfortable days, one day, he was suddenly reminded of his second father from that small village. He felt a deep urge to do something for him. He went back, only to be told by a local, “That old man? Oh, he died ten, maybe twelve years ago…” The old soul had died on the street. For three days, no one from his family came or even inquired. Finally, the municipality took the body away and disposed of it. The news was a devastating blow to the doctor, but there was nothing he could do.Then one day, this wayward boy, this lost cause, quit his high-paying job. Did he have a craving to beg? No. He had a craving to serve the beggars. Seeing the sick, disabled, blind, and elderly beggars on the streets, he was reminded of his second ‘father.’ He couldn’t do anything for him; the man didn't even receive a proper funeral. He remembered the ‘Game of Support.’“I decided that from now on, I will work for the beggars on the streets. And do only that.”The very next day, he loaded his motorcycle with bags of medicine and began treating any beggar he could find. For the shabby beggars who hadn’t bathed in months, he himself gave them a shave and a haircut right there on the roadside, even bathed them and gave them clean clothes. For those with festering wounds with maggots in their feet or on their bodies, he provided a doctor’s examination and dressed their wounds. For the elderly beggars, he cleaned them up and arranged for them to be placed in an old-age home.I sat up straight. “Is this real?”“Today, I sit on the streets with beggars. I share their food. You have one mother and one father, don’t you? I have 200-300 mothers and just as many fathers,” he said. “And countless grandparents! I even have 52 children, all adopted from the streets. They go to school, to college. One of my daughters is now doing her MBA. They are all studying, all doing something with their lives…”My eyes widened in disbelief.“Our family has 1100 members. My wife is with me in this work. My son is becoming a doctor too. I hope one day he will join me, but that is for him to decide.”“What exactly do you do for the beggars?” I asked. Though he was younger than me, after hearing all this I felt compelled to talk to him respectfully.“Medical treatment. If the illness or cure is major, we request the large hospitals to accommodate them. We send the children to school. If someone is a skilled worker, we help them set up a small business… I’ll tell you something. In my youth, I once vandalised and destroyed a man’s roadside tea stall. Remembering that today, I have helped 25 former beggars to set up tea stalls. Another 30 people are now vending things in the streets using their own handcarts.”Just as a sliver of doubt crept into my mind—was he boasting?—he added, “When I say ‘I’ here it’s not me as a person. It is the entire society that does all this. I have found so many helping hands, and I still do. Let me not take names, but many individuals and companies stand behind my Charitable Trust, and that is how this work continues. I am merely an instrument, that’s all. To date, 175 families have been reunited. 1000 elderly people have had their eyesight restored. 63 beggars have found shelter. Our people now stitch and sell cloth bags and they make decorative items. A renowned company gave us their liquid soap formula for free, and we produce and sell soap using it. More projects are underway, and more are in my head… The work goes on.”I was utterly spellbound. It was a live demonstration of what a life full of experience means that was unfolding right before me.“There are so many stories, so many experiences. Even today, when I say I work for and live among beggars, I am met with contempt and scorn at every step. The housing society won’t allow our ambulance to be parked inside, so I have to leave it on the street. When I ask some local Ganesh festival committees to allow us to put up a table and chair to sell our products, they ask, ‘How much rent will you pay?’ Once, I was invited as a guest of honour to perform the sacred Ganesh aarti, only to be ignored at the last minute. And when I sought their leave, I was rudely told to go!These days, we see a lot of people who do five cents of work and seek fifty dollars of publicity. Some don’t even do the work part! In such a world, this gentleman’s service is nothing short of a miracle. Fortunately, he receives financial aid, but what we need is people to take inspiration from him and start similar work in every town and village. The existence of beggars is not a matter of pride for our nation. To beg or to be forced to beg is terrible. The children who throw their elderly parents out, the parents who force their own kids into begging as a shortcut to easy money, the criminals who push entire families into begging —all of this is a blot on the nation and the culture whose praises we so loudly sing.When you consider the number of beggars in any single village—and then realise that India has over six hundred thousand villages, not to mention the towns and cities—the sheer scale of this crisis is terrifying. How many tender lives are rotting in this vicious cycle? How many young hands that could be building our nation are instead stretched out for alms? How many old, experienced hands that should be raised in blessing are instead spread out to ask for alms to fill their stomachs? It is a deeply unsettling reality.When we see a beggar, we might give them two, five, ten, or even a hundred rupees and feel the satisfaction of doing a good deed. But it would be a far greater act of merit to offer our physical, mental, and financial strength to people like our protagonist, who are working towards their complete rehabilitation. If every village and town produces at least one such person, only then, as a nation and as a living society, shall we truly begin to walk the path of progress.In between our conversation, pearls of wisdom fall from him: “Instead of earning merit by giving your shoulder to a dead man’s bier, earn it by lending your hand to a living one. The one who carries is greater than the one being carried. When you realise that pain has its own consciousness, it becomes empathy. And one who understands pain is a true healer…” I also learn that in his college days, he used to sing in an orchestra and, being a gifted writer, would pen flawless, success-guaranteed love letters for his friends.So, allow me to introduce you. This is Dr Abhijeet Sonawane, a.k.a. the Beggars’ Doctor, from Pune.Address: On Mondays, outside the Shankar Temple. On Tuesdays, outside the Devi Temple. On Wednesdays, outside the Ganpati Temple. On Thursdays, outside the Datta and Sai Baba Temples. On Fridays, outside the Mosque. On Saturdays, near the Shani-Maruti Temple. And on Sundays, in front of the Church.Contact: 9822267357. - Article By Prashant Talanikar (This article is the translated version of the original article वाया गेलेलं पोरगं written by Prashant Talanikar published in the Sahitya Chaprak Diwali Ank 2025 )https://shop.chaprak.com/product/diwali-ank-2025/