The Works of an Unknown

The Works Of An Unknown

  It was a dark night in the Indian streets of Delhi. The rustling of the leaves, whistling of the wind, and even the slightest movement could be heard by a person curled up and trying to sleep under a tree. A stone was his pillow, darkness was his blanket, and the soft soils of India was his bed.

  The street was empty of traffic, yet the negligible sounds of he rustling of the leaves, whistling of the wind coming from everywhere was enough to disturb a person trying to sleep already in conditions unfit to sleep. But, the 50 year old man lying there was not disturbed by anything.

  His life was nothing so important for others. He hadnt done anything great according to others. But for him, his life was the best Gift he had received. He had worked all his life. It would be no exaggaration to say that God's granting rains in India were actually tears He shed for the old man's sufferings.

  But if you do look at his works, you might realize that his works were really great. In fact, greater than many other great people. He never took rest in his life. He had cleaned the streets day and night. No one had asked him to. But he did so. Many recognized him as a very helpful and great worker. They had given him some money now and then. One-tenth of what he got from others, was what he lived on. The rest he kept as savings.

  Whatever he had saved at the end of the day, he would give it to the poor. Few noticed this. But those who noticed always wondered how a person can receive money as donation for the poor from a person who was probably poorer.

  There we come back again to the sleeping, curled up figure on the ground below the tree whose leaves now seemed to be teasing the soul. He had to wake in a few hours. Before India would wake, this person would wake and start to clean the city of Delhi. He, with the broomstick in his hand, looked like a royal king with a staff in the hand. Even though he was now fifty years, the speed remained the same as when he had started working thirty years ago. Yes, he had worked for thirty years!

  All these of his works were not published in every newspaper and there were no posters of him on every wall on the road like many other well-known people. These well-known people might have got more of fame than they deserved.

  The sun was close to rising and no special noise was being made, but the man woke up as if on the sound of an alarm clock. He stretched himself. A shiver ran through his body when the cold winds blew over him. His body looked frail and weak. Yet, none could match it with the speed with which he searched his broomstick and started sweeping the floor, which was destined to be dirtied and littered again by the passers-by. The same broomstick had to be swayed over the same path.

  Not much use, some might think, to doing something that has to be redone everyday. But, this person always thought that cleanliness was something to be followed. Even his thirty years old clothes were clean and looked as if they were new.

  By the rise of the morning sun, people started staring this person while they went to shops. But the staring faces reduced a lot by the period of thirty years. People often nowadays gave him money. He used to receive the money with a humble bow, a bow which followed with a roar of thunder in the sky. God might have roared with pride in this creation of His.

  By that day's afternoon, the sweat drops trickled down his face and blessed the land of India. By that time, an ambassador came that screeched while braking to halt. A person in a rather official suit came over to this person and said, "I bow down to you, sir. Its only because of people like you that there is greatness in India. Let your name be honoured. Very few know you. I can't help it. None accepts the true words unless they get proof, whether false or true. But as help I can give you only this." The man held a bundle of notes of hundreds and gave it to the peson.

  Another twenty-five years after that incident, the person looked at the same bundle, smiled at it and gave it to a person sitting on a chair opposite to him. The money was used for the development of an orphanage.

  As soon as the money was passed on, the person died sitting on the chair with an eternal smile on his face. His face shone bright and there was a body... an empty body which was used to do great works.

  Even after all he did, he was not known by most of the Indians. Very few knew of him. Yet, his reward was greater than any other famous person. For a person who is famous and followed by people on Earth, has received his material reward on Earth. But one who has not received the reward for his great works, is being rewarded Somewhere Up There.