For this barefoot god of the streets, Kargil wasn't the first front

The flow of bodybags— some containing mutilated bodies— and the sacrifices ofIndian soldiers, cast, for Pawar, a shadow over the wedding preparations. "There isonly sloganeering—‘ Jai Kisan, Jai Jawan’, but it seems nobody trulyappreciates their contribution towards the nation. I can’t read the papers, or listento the news as I have trouble hearing, but I do watch the news on TV. I was struck by theincongruity of enjoying my daughter’s wedding, while widows and children wept oversoldiers who died in Kargil. I couldn’t bear that. Which is why I decided to give themoney away." That’s the explanation given by this man who has been a regular butsilent donor to several causes.

Among these is a school up to class 10 for children from poor families, several templesin the suburbs of Bhiwandi— where he is based— and Gujarat, regular prasad andfood distributions at temple melas, two ambulances to transport patients  whocan’t afford the long trip between Bhiwandi and hospitals in Mumbai, and aninstitution that provides vocational guidance to the youth. "I was orphaned whennine. I was out on the streets, was beaten up...I cannot bring myself to forget all thateven for a moment," says Pawar who stubbornly refuses to wear shoes because, "ifI forget the thorns that pricked me during my days of poverty then I would be displayingingratitude towards all those souls who were kind to a lonely, hungry child." And hecontinues to risk infection with his unshod condition, despite medical concern over hisdiabetic vulnerability to wounds.

He recalls those dark days, orphaned and destitute till a good soul— Haribhau Mane(in Umerkhet, Maharashtra)— sheltere d him. A school dropout, Pawar has laboured atseveral jobs— stone-cutting, cement-unloading, farm hand, mill-worker, cup-cleaningat tea stalls. So severe was the gnawing hunger that he decided to blanket his pain withdeath. "Lying jaundice-stricken at an Ujjain temple, I survived by eating the prasad.One day, a policeman thrashed me, calling me a chor. I wrapped my khaki pant— aschool uniform I never got to use— around my stomach and filled it with heavy stones,planning to throw myself into the river nearby. But suddenly, that Nargissong—‘once you are born , you have no choice but to live’— came intomy mind.

He stepped back from the precipice, but remembers its hungry void. When distributingprasad he sits with the people he was once a part of. An old habit— checkingemployment columns— persists, though his several business, including SainathRoad-ways Pvt Ltd, are booming. But he doesn’t stock up his earnings, he’sregularly giving it away, says admiring office hand, Ratanlal Sharma .

His wife Saraswati and six children are used to his "open hand" by now. Nottoo long ago, he’d sponsored a trip to the Shirdi temple, joining the pilgrims on theeight-day trek. He built a guest house for the Narpoli police station, the Laturearthquake sent him scurrying to disaster-hit spots with a team of doctors, ambulances,medicines, food and clothing. He’s planning a heart - care hospital for thepoor— having undergone a cardiac operation, he appreciates the cost involved,"I’ve already acquired 80,000 sq ft for Rs 1 crore." The total expenditurewill set him back by Rs 13 crore. "It’ll be my last attempt at saying thanks toall those who helped me in need," says Pawar, who has, till date, never taken anydonations for his many charities. Nevertheless, his telephone number is: (Bhiwandi) 33633.