ALTRUISM

It was half past 10 , I was waiting in the bus stand. I had lost my last bus to reach home. There were only vendors in the bus stand, packing everything and returning to their home. I realised am late, I had never been this late. A part of me was terrified and scared of the dark, another part of me was so consumed in staring at nothingness. Apparently, my feelings of nullity overpowered my fears. I could smell popcorn from a distance. The smell of the popcorn got stronger and stronger by every second, so did my sense of gluttony. 

My gaze fell upon the vendor selling them. A strange middle-age man, with saffron and dirty turban on his head, he wore a blue shirt which had holes in them and he dragged his slippers as he walked. For some reason I couldn’t stop looking at him as he walked towards me. It’s just that grim on his face that drew my attention. I stood up from my seat and asked him, “ yashtu anna”. He didn't reply but showed the board that read 25 rupees. For a moment I started to visualize what kind of grief he might have been through. Perhaps he might have faced a tragic incident or lost one of his dearest persons. I continued in Kannada , “ there is only two?”.  I was keen to listen to his voice, so that I could add more drama to my visualization, but he nods and refuses to speak. I paid and grabbed the popcorn off his cart.

I watched him walk past me and assumed he was a mute. He crossed over the street, few meters away and sat on the footpath facing me. I pondered over the thought if he had anybody at all in his life.  I knew for sure he was worried as his expression oscillated from being calm to anxious whenever his phone rang. So, he definitely has a family. His wife is probably calling him home. We passed each other odd glances every now and then. 

Few minutes pass by and he walked towards me. For a moment my body turns cold. I am brooding over the thought of picking up a pen knife from a bag. My gaze was fixed at him as my hand rummage around the things in my bag. My heart quivered like a racing horse. He paused at a distance and finally uttered some words out of his mouth.  At this point am not worried of how is voice sounds or what kind of grief he carries with him. I felt so numb that I barely heard what he spoke. He repeated again, “The last bus left half an hour ago, it’s better if you take an auto or call your family members”. Once I clearly heard those words I loosened the grip on my bag. His face had fatherly concern when he said, “won’t your parents be upset? It’s not safe here at this time.” It's when I realized he had been waiting for me to leave the bus stand safely. 

He had his wife calling him home, but he sat there waiting without speaking a word? My face filled up with gratitude while I said to him that I could take care of myself and that he could leave, yet he refused to leave until I called my brother.  I started the conversation out of curiosity of feeding more drama into my notion. I questioned him about his family and children, his face grew grim again and replied, “my son is mentally unstable but that doesn’t make me sad”, he gave a pause looked away and resumed “My wife abandoned us a month ago, after learning about his condition. I live with my mother and my son, two streets from here and I take care of our expenses”. I refused to question him further. A man who had enough to worry about his life was concerned with a safety of a stranger. Life had given him all the reasons to be grumpy but he chose to stay kind. How unfair could life get? I went back to reinstating to thoughts of nothingness after I heard him speak. He presumably went back to whirling around the thoughts of providing for his mother and son. I thanked him whole heartedly before I left and watched him rush to his cart.

Always grateful to strangers who have been kind to me 🙌🏽