Kindness

Akin to my other writings, this is another experience during a travel visit to the national capital Delhi. Much of my travels are within India and very few abroad. I wonder at the richness of the experiences of those people who travel the world over frequently. I for one believe the more you travel, the more places you see, your exposure to cultures, and beliefs increase and you become rich in many ways. 

This particular visit was at the end Dec 1984. I had joined a PSU as a Trainee and they had temporarily posted me for one-month training at Kanpur. It was the end of the training and two of my senior colleagues joined together to visit Delhi as tourists. The plan was to spend two days in Delhi, post that I would take the train from Delhi and head back to resume my training at IIT Chennai (Then known as Madras) and then return to Kanpur. We had taken accommodation at YMCA Youth Hostel, near Teen Murthi Bhavan in Delhi. We went to various places like Jantar Mantar, India Gate, Parliament Bhavan, etc., in the daytime on our first day of visit. It was a chilly day. I was not accustomed to and also did not have appropriate warm clothes. Down in southern India, it's not as cold, and as the training was for one month I did not want to invest in warm clothing and was managing with one sweater I had. We took our evening food somewhere near Janpath and around eight-thirty or so we started to return. It was dark and cold. We boarded the DTC bus that would take us to Teen Murthi Bhavan. The bus would go further than Teen Murthi Bhavan. We requested the Bus Conductor to warn us at the Teen Murthi Bhavan stop to get down as we would not know the stop. He agreed. The bus was crowded as it appeared to be one of the last buses on the route. As people started getting in we had to move and it so happened that my other two friends somehow stayed near the rear entrance and I was pushed further.

Many stops passed by, there was a lot of noise within the bus, it was dark and as I was near the front side I could not hear the conductor. I just curiously requested a co-passenger to warn me when the Teen Murthi Bhavan stop arrives. He laughed and said the bus had already crossed the stop. The bus was full, I tried calling my friends to no avail. Requested the driver to stop the bus, and he asked me to wait as the next stop was nearby. I then got down at the next stop. Someone said my destination was around two kilometers behind. I started walking back. It was a dark night, but the roads were well-lit. It is considered a very posh area with most of the consulates housed in and around. The only problem was it was late in the night, that to the peak of the winter, and the road was absolutely deserted. Not a soul to be seen on the road. Most of the buildings hide behind large fences or boundary walls. Nobody to ask. Those were the days without GPS and Uber or Ola. You had to rely on people or signboards for directions and auto rickshaws, buses, or taxis for travel. I was shivering with the cold and also with the thought that I was lost. I did not know the way to the hostel. But kept walking. I was singing in a low tone to gather courage and keep myself warm. As I did so it appeared as if I was smoking, it was that cold.

For those of you who may not be aware, I will refresh your memory, it was just a few months back ( on 31st Oct 1984) that Prime Minister Indirajee was assassinated and there were riots in the north, especially in Delhi. It was that dark period in Indian history which will bring eerie feelings and wish it should not have happened. Many Sikh and Hindu people lost their lives amidst this carnage. We, in the southern part of India only read it in the News or some saw it on the TV, and mostly the societal peace was not affected. North reeled in cold weather as well as burned due to the violence for a few weeks before normalcy set in. By the time we had come for training at Kanpur normalcy had set in. However, there was still uneasiness in the air and we were told not to venture out late at night.

I kept walking and was looking for some help. An auto rickshaw was coming, I stopped it only to smell the drunken driver and somehow managed to lose him. I tried stopping scooters or bikes but with no success. 

Again I saw a two-wheeler, I could not see the face of the rider due to the headlight. This time around I took my Identity card and started waving. He tried to avoid me. I saw the rider was alone and wearing that distinct Turban worn by Sikh people. I froze for a few seconds. After seeing me waving the ID he stopped. I did not know what to do, with hidden fear I approached him, he was equally afraid but somehow seeing me holding the ID card, he probably felt safe and asked what I wanted. I, with my broken Hindi, explained my situation and requested him to help and drop me off at the YMCA youth hostel. I could see the anxiety in him also cooled down. He said he knew the route and asked me to sit behind him. He said though it’s not on his route he will drop me at the YMCA. We exchanged a few words all along. He said he was afraid and hesitant because of the incidents that have happened in the past. After some time at a cross near the YMCA, I found my friends waiting by. I requested him to stop and told him they were my friends. I hugged him and thanked him with all my heart and breathed a sigh of relief. My friends also thanked him. He waved and left.

My friends had got down at the stop as the bus conductor called out the station name and by the time they could shout for me, the bus had left leaving me alone. They were relieved after meeting me. We all then went into the YMCA and slept.

After these many years also, the experience is still etched in my memory. Having known the inhumane things that happened during the riots, I still think of the kindness of that Sikh person who helped me get to my place on that bitterly cold night. He did not have to do it. He could have simply gone. But it was his greatness and kindness or compassion that made him stop by and escort me. Had it not been for him, maybe I would have spent the whole night searching my destination. Everyone is not the same, some are different and still, carry compassion and humanity. The world rolls on the shoulders of such people.