When I was ten, my mother took me on a month long trip to India to visit relatives. Every day after lunch, I would walk the dirt roads of New Delhi with my uncle. He would always take me along whether I wanted to go or not, and I never wanted to go. Every day we would walk down uneven paths, on broken streets, through dingy alleys, and every day we would pass by an old beggar. He was the reason I never wanted to take a walk.

The beggar would sit cross legged in the sun; back propped against the wall of an abandoned store, wearing only a strip of cloth to preserve what little humility he still had. In front of him was a can that people could drop money into. Around him there was emptiness. No one wlaked near him, no one looked at him, and he had no possessions of his own.

He was bald; darkly tanned. His gray eyebrows were scrunched, as if in anger, and his mouth was a frown. His ears were unusually large and pointed, and his nose looked as if it was sinking into his face. His body was thin with long arms protruding out the side. But what distinguished this monster's features were the absence of fingers and toes, though he did still have his thumbs. However his hands and feet looked as if the fingers and toes had been fused together.

Every day when I passed him I would try to put my uncle between this monster and myself, even though he must have been sitting at least five or six meters away. Whenever I glanced at him, I could see him watching me pass with his characteristic scowl. I was sure that if I ever came within an arm's reach of him, he would murder me. His hand would shoot out and his thumber press against my throat and squeeze the life out of me before someone could help.

"Give him this money" said my uncle as he pressed a wad of rupees into my hand one day as we walked pass the beggar. I hesitated but my uncle pushed me forward, literally. I stumbled but kept my balance. It was too late to go back, the monster was sitting less than 3 feet in front of me, the angry expression from day one still on his face as he looked straight at me. I walked forward expecting a hand to tighten around my neck, but it never came. I walked to his collection can, my shadow draped over him. He looked up, his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. I put the money in the cna. He gace me a weak smile, raised his arm in the air, exposing ribs under his frail torso, and uttered a blessing.

When I returned to my uncle's side to continue our walk, I looked back at the beggar sitting in the sun and he returned my look. His eyebrows were scrunched again, and I understood. Every day that I walked down the alley, there was indeed a monster; that monster was me.