A Night on the Streets of London

by AASTHA DHARMIK (India)

I didn't expect to find United Kingdom

Wet and cold, those two little words described not only my physical state of being but literally everything around me. The sun had set hours ago and the weather had turned chilly with occasional rainfall thrown here and there. As one would say “The perfect London weather”. Walking down the streets by the creepy old houses with windows that kept rattling due to the howling winds was itself a hauntingly beautiful experience. I was tired, drenched and feeling miserable after missing my bus back home. Under the light coming from the lamp post, illuminating the area, I saw a bit of a shelter. I still don’t know what made me stop when my feet automatically started taking me there. I rushed inside quickly not knowing there was already a man sitting in there. Thanking the universe for its impromptu help, I sat down to rest when I first saw him. This obviously old guy sitting in one corner of the small shelter and just enjoying the weather it seemed, completely ignoring me. I felt as if I had encroached on this man’s territory and I didn’t know what to do next. So, I turned to apologize realizing he was homeless, and feeling bad for him I went to offer him some cash I had left. He refused to take it. Surprisingly the first emotion I felt after his refusal was hurt and then I felt intrigued. I always thought I was a generous person offering money to the less fortunate to help them but that little hurt made me realize that maybe I also did it to feed my little ego. So what stopped him from taking money from me? Was it pride or simply that man who definitely could use money didn’t really want it. Embarrassed, I got lost in my own thoughts after being rebuffed by an old beggar .I always thought beggars can’t be choosers but this person right here just proved me wrong. Sitting right there wallowing in my own self-deprecating thoughts I couldn’t contain my curiosity. What would make a person turn away from money? I finally approached him again and asked him “Why?” He didn’t misinterpret my meaning and genially answered me that I need it more. Shock was definitely an understatement at this point. What was this person talking about? I sat near him more confused than ever and contemplated my next course of action. I didn’t ask his name and he didn’t ask mine as we sat in silence while I kept turning his words over and over in my mind .What did he really mean? I wanted to ask him to clarify what he meant but was afraid to know the answer, scared of what he saw in me. As the night gave way to a new dawn, I realized that I had spent a whole night on the streets of London and the man had fallen asleep while I was busy obsessing over his sentence . I finally saw the time and made my way to the Victoria station leaving him alone, my heart unsatisfied with how I left things with him. I didn’t wake him up but I took the same money out and left it by him knowing I will never see him again but still wanted him to know that I was there and that I heard what he said, even if I don’t really know what the significance was. Coming home was different but soon I got back into the rhythm of things casting that night away in the bustle of everyday mundanity. Few months later while paying for coffee I saw a crunched up 5 pound note suddenly reminding me of that night. I don’t really know what happened to that old man and I never went there again. I like to believe our paths were meant to cross and I’d rather just enjoy the mystery of it all and keep it close to my heart as a treasured memory. Though I know with time I will forget his face and that night but I hope I will always remember the unexpected contemplation of my reality.