E-Paper
Spice of life: No strangers here, only friends you haven’t met
Once we reached the highway, the cars began overtaking each other, with people waving goodbye. This heartwarming camaraderie made our journey through the dusty village tracks a pleasant experience
While travelling from Patiala to Delhi, three days before the farmers’ Delhi Chalo march in February, traffic was diverted from Shambhu border with Ambala to the interior countryside. With their anticipated duration of arrival at their destination going haywire, commuters found themselves in a quandary.
A marriage party with cars full of decked-up people got busy making frantic phone calls. But as the caravan of cars traversed narrow village tracks, an unspoken bond formed among us, creating a sense of unity like a single family with Grand Trunk Road or National Highway 44 emerging as our common destination. The occupants of the first car would ask for directions from a passerby and then would beckon others to follow. And if one car took a wrong turn, others would honk loudly to bring it on the right track.
Once we reached the highway, the cars began overtaking each other, with people waving goodbye all around. This heartwarming camaraderie made our journey through the dusty village tracks a pleasant experience.
This incident made me recall the time when I was aided by some kindhearted strangers during a traumatic episode.
Years ago, I had a nasty fall at the entrance of Delhi railway station and fractured my right wrist, just before boarding the evening Shatabdi Express for Chandigarh, along with my brother. With excruciating pain, and my arm resting against my left shoulder, my brother helped me into the compartment. But I slumped into the first seat I could find and asked my brother to fetch a bottle of water from the platform. Meanwhile, a family entered the compartment, checked their tickets, and told me I was sitting in the wrong seat. I gestured and told them in a weak voice about my situation.
“Ok, no problem. Please take your time,” the lady said, offering me her water bottle to take a sip. As my brother returned, that lady led me by the shoulder to my seat at the other end of the compartment. I found myself sitting next to a young girl, while my brother was on the other side of the aisle.
With a concerned look, the girl asked me about my well-being and promptly retrieved a painkiller from her bag and offered it to me. She carefully placed my arm on the armrest and requested the pantry boy to bring ice cubes. She then wrapped them in a handkerchief and applied a cold compress to the painful area.
The young pantry boy was another guardian angel, who kept returning to us every 10-15 minutes to ensure we had enough ice. Then he came with a piece of cardboard folded into a three-sided case. The young girl and he put my arm into it and tied it with a handkerchief. It became so comfortable for me for the rest of the journey.
Even today, I get teary-eyed when I remember the benevolent individuals who taught me a valuable lesson in compassion and generosity. Rightly does WB Yeats say: There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet. njkaur1953@gmail.com
The writer is a Patiala-based retired associate professor in English
