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The story of Vaishali

by Iris Wilkinson (November 2002)

Vaishali en haar moeder

I met Vaishali, the 'beggar girl' on Sunday, spoke to her. Her name is Vaishali (pronounced why-shall-e). She has no father, only her crippled mother, she must have had polio in her childhood, besides being dwarfed she is also a hunch-back. Vaishali has no other sister or brother. On Nov. 17th Sunday there was a breakfast sale in our church, people were buying and standing around talking and eating. I saw Vaishali standing all by herself at the periphery watching others eat, hoping some one will notice her. I called her to me and bought her a plate of breakfast, thinking she'll stand and eat like the rest, but as soon as she got the food she happily ran to her mother and shared it with her. Vaishali couldn't be more than 11 or 12 years old but like a little mother she cares for her disabled mother. The two move around with large bags, filled with rags, old paper, plastic bags and any other thing they can collect and sell, daughter carries a larger bag and the mother smaller and lighter one. She helps her mother find a comportable shady spot to sit and then she goes around scouring for whatever she can get.

Last Sunday I told her we are going to start a school for her and her friends, she said, "But I already go to Sunday School." I explained to her in this school she will learn to read and write, it seems she could'nt believe her sudden good fortune, had a doubtful expression in her eyes, probably wondering if such a thing could really happen to her.

The two make an interesting pair, tall and the short, mother looking like a bundle of old clothes, girl with a round face, curly hair, imp like gleam in her eyes. She seems quite devoted to her mother and happy, not worried about what future may hold for her.

What worries us about Vaishali, she is growing up, has a glow of youth on her attartive face; when she and her mother are not sitting outside the church, they sit on the side-walk across the Coffee House which is a favourite haunt of all kinds of young men. Vaishali and her kind, for most people are objects of contempt, a nuisance, at the most they get a coin thrown at them for no one wants to get too close to them. But when some one does look, talk or smile at them for whatever reason or intention, they are flattered and happy to be treated as human beings. They become easy victims of enducement and flattery and may get mislead into ways from where there is no turning back.