SADLY enough, one has become used to people asking for money or some other form of aid in this country. There’s no argument that economic times are tough, that poverty is increasing, and that jobs are hard to find; when the rates for education and vocational training are compared with that of the population growth, the picture is as dismal as it is unsurprising.

Nevertheless, there is room for surprise. At a fruit vendor’s in Karachi recently, I was approached by a senior citizen in his 60s.

Neatly dressed in shalwar kameez and a sweater, and sporting a trimmed white beard, he said in English: “My child, I’m not a beggar and I don’t beg for a living. But I am old and don’t have a job any longer. I suffer from diabetes and I am on insulin. It’s difficult for me to say this, but I’d be grateful for whatever help you can give me.”

Upon my inquiry, he said that he used to work as a schoolteacher in a government school, and while he had put a bit of money by in the National Savings Schemes, it was no longer enough to get by, particularly with his health problems.

He further explained that he was being treated at a private hospital because while public healthcare facilities are cheap, the queues there are too long and the doctors do not give any indication of actually caring about their patients. He had three children, he said, the daughter living in another city in Pakistan and the two sons in Greece.

They used to send him money but with the crackdown ongoing in the West against immigrants, by his account, they too were having a tough time.

He said he lived nearby in a rented one-room apartment in a commercial area, adding that because of his age he couldn’t even find work as a loader.

I have no way of knowing whether or how much of any of this is true. The only thing I can say is that this 20-minute conversation took place in English, and on his part it was of an acceptable standard. He wrote down his address in a reasonably rounded and neat script.

It’s become common for Pakistanis, especially those that are comparatively well to do, to decry the nuisance of beggary and the scams that are perpetuated for this purpose. We know, after all, that in urban centres there are organised begging rings that not just recruit people but have been known to kidnap and maim young children so that they might attract more sympathy.

A make-up artist employed by one such gang in Lahore caused a stir several years ago when, according to police statements given out at the time, he explained that he earned his keep by faking severe injuries on beggars.

Driving in Karachi, recently, I saw a young man sitting by the side of the road, his head on his knees, the very picture of despair; understandable, since his pushcart stood upturned next to him, its wares of roasted chickpeas spilled out across the tarmac.

Clearly, some accident or other piece of misfortune had led to his losing his chance for earning the day’s living. It was heartbreaking — except that I saw three other men in exactly the same situation on different roads during my hour-long trip. If it is hard to believe that some maddened driver had made it his business to go about upsetting pushcarts, the only other explanation is that it was a nicely thought-out ruse.

Nevertheless, it has become quite common in Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad to come across boys and young men who will speak to you in English and ask for money or sell you something insignificant on the pretext that they have to pay their school or college fees.

On several such occasions, I’ve asked them to write down their address or that of their institution, just to see whether or not they have had an education. In most cases, they have.

So leaving begging scams aside, to whatever extent they might exist, I’m wondering whether Pakistan has now reached a juncture where even being able to read and write is not enough to earn an income. Keep in mind that given this country’s literacy rates, having even a modicum of education puts a person heads and shoulders over others in the job market — or ought to, at least. And yet, there is the fact that I’m meeting apparently literate beggars.

It’s hard to be so cynical as to believe that people in urban centres would rather subject themselves to the ignominy of begging than finding employment. If the levels of urban poverty and unemployment have indeed reached such levels that those who can read and write can’t find work, there is indeed reason to worry about the future.

The writer is a member of staff.

hajrahmumtaz@gmail.com