In this lesson, the author very sensitively portrays a touching character sketch of Abdul Miya. a poor, tender-hearted bangle seller. She also exhibits the revered personality of Dr. Shivajirao, aka Dajisaheb Patwardhan, the founder of Tapovan (meaning Penance Grove), the rehabilitation centre for leprosy patients in Amravati.

Abdul Miya Chudiwala was a bangle seller who used to visit Tapovan twice a year, that is, on the days of Sankranti and Jyeshtha Pournima (Vat Pournima). As a social commitment, he used to put bangles on the wrists of leper women and girls there. Shannu, his wife, did not approve of this gesture of Abdul visiting the centre on festivals, as it meant shutting the bangle shop and losing business on those special days. Perhaps she failed to realize the sense of belonging Abdul had for the lepers at Tapovan, due to which he religiously observed this ritual in spite of his poverty. Abdul never got angry at her approach; rather, he pitied her.

On one such occasion of Sankranti, Abdul left for Tapovan. Although his son implored him to stay back, Abdul consoled him, saying he would return home early. It was a cold winter morning. Abdul, wearing his torn sweater, boarded the bus, holding a heavy bangle box carefully in one hand and a cloth bag in the other. Red, green, blue—he looked at the bangles, showing an iridescent play of colours.

As soon as he reached Tapovan, small girls gathered around him and started calling his name excitedly. The womenfolk, leaving their jobs halfway, rushed to him as each one of them wanted to wear the bangles before everyone else.

Even in that chaotic atmosphere. Abdul skillfully and patiently finished his job of putting bangles on their wrists because the heartfelt joy reflected on their faces was worth a million for him. And for the women and girls of Tapovan, Abdul was like an angel who gifted them a few hours of hustle and bustle filled with happiness and brought cheer to their lives twice every year.

A few days passed, and one day Abdul received an invitation letter. It said that Abdul would be felicitated at a function at Tapovan. Abdul and Shannu were overjoyed by the news, but he wondered what great deed he had done to receive such an honour?

At Tapovan, Dajisaheb himself made Abdul sit on a chair next to him. As the ceremony commenced, Dajisaheb began to speak. ‘Shri Ram built the setu, the bridge on the sea, not alone but with several helping hands, big and small. Even a tiny squirrel added to her might. Similarly, we are lucky to have some notable individuals to help us in small and big ways. When the idea of giving bangles to the women and girls of Tapovan was thought of, we approached many bangle vendors, but only Abdul Miya came forward readily, and he has been performing his duty diligently for years without any monetary expectations. His service to society and to humanity is commendable and inspirational. It is for this that we thought of honouring him today.”

Dajisaheb then requested that Abdul accept the bouquet and gifted him a flower vase made by Tapovan residents. Abdul was overwhelmed by the kind gesture of this eighty-four-year-old tall, slim personality with a glowing face, who spoke in a fascinatingly lucid voice and with great poise at that ripe age.

As the programme ended. Dajisaheb seated Abdul in a car to drop him back home. Abdul mused, “Had Shannu been present, her anger would have somewhat lessened.

It was quite late when Abdul reached home. Shannu served him food, but when she told him that their son Anwar was asking for kheema to eat, he felt miserable for not being able to fulfill his son’s wish.

Shannu pestered him again about starting a new business for better earnings, but Abdul did not hear her words any more. He got up and lied down by Anwar’s side, but her words were still ringing in his ears. So many times she has said this: “Nothing new: new business, new business! “Where to bring capital from?” he uttered in a loud voice, so that it would reach her ears. However, the truth was that he was reluctant to leave this job he had inherited from his father.

Soon the Navaratri festival approached, and his sales increased; the business flourished. Soon after, people started looking forward to the festival of Diwali.

One day Abdul reached his shop in a dejected mood. His friend Raghu Bhaiyya inquired about why he had not opened his shop yet. Abdul muttered in a low tone, “Tapovan is taken away by the government against Dajisaheb’s wish. He is powerless. Ever since I learned about this, I have been in no mood to work. I am really concerned about Tapovan and its patients. How will they be cared for? What suffering Dajisaheb’s mind must have endured when he had to bid goodbye to his Karma-bhumi, the place nurtured by him, by his sweat and blood?” Abdul’s heart was aching for them.

Abdul could not sleep that night; he quietly opened the box of articles he had collected for his next Tapovan visit. There were ribbons, hairpins, handkerchiefs, and lots of glittering bangles. Women and girls would have greeted him with their usual eager demands. He was to please them all with his magical skills, making them forget their agonies. In return, he was to feel content with their happiness.

But alas! It was all over. Common people live for themselves. But rare are people like Abdul who take joy in other people’s joy. Like a tattered cloth, his hope was swept away by despair.

Looking at all those knickknacks, his eyes were filled with tears. The penance-grove: Tapovan was melting away in the void, and the night was about to wane!