File picture: Curacao’s Jurien Gaari helps up Ecuador’s Pervis Estupinan
| Photo Credit:
Issei Kato
Over the past few weeks, a few close friends who have been visiting countries abroad have spoken glowingly of their experiences. That set me reflecting on my own experiences – not abroad, but in India. I have been fortunate to travel the length and breadth of our country from my first day at work. A flood of wonderful memories spring to my mind – of help, kindness, concern, and human goodness; many of them from strangers I never met again.
It was 1980. I took the overnight train from Bombay to Nagpur to install some lab equipment at a customer’s facility. My accommodation was at a nondescript hotel whose rooms were Rs 70 per night. It was to be a 2-day assignment. But the installation turned out to be a nightmare and as I wrestled with the recalcitrant equipment, I realised this would now require a full week. My money was running out and remember, there were no credit cards in those days, nor was it easy for the company to transfer so quickly. I kept aside an amount for an unreserved return ticket, estimated the hotel room charges, and decided to restrict myself to one meal a day till my departure. The night before my departure, I went to the hotel reception to settle my bills, confident I had this at least covered. To my shock, I realised I had miscalculated and owed the hotel 85 rupees. I unburdened my tale of woe to the manager there. It took him one minute: “Sir, you are our guest. Please keep at least 100 rupees in hand. Send us a cheque when you reach Bombay.’’ And then he added, ‘Tomorrow morning, you will carry the breakfast we will pack for you.’
Two years later, I was stuck on Howrah Bridge amidst a traffic jam that might have cleared in five years. In the boot of my taxi was a heavy box containing instruments that I had brought to Calcutta for demonstration. If I had to catch my train, the only option was to get off the cab and walk through the bridge and reach the station. I lugged out the equipment box and suitcase and stood on the edge of the road wondering. Suddenly, a middle-aged man clearly on his way for his own work, saw me and intuitively knew I was in trouble. I explained my predicament. Without another word, he said, “Hold one end of the box, I will hold the other. And we can take turns with your suitcase. You will catch your train.” I do not think I said a word through the entire journey. I do not think I thanked him adequately. But I am certain, he read the gratitude swimming in my eyes.
In 2006, I had gone to IRMA Anand to give a talk. That evening, I took a cab to reach Ahmedabad station to board the evening train that would take me to Bhopal. Our Foundation had begun working in Madhya Pradesh a few years back, and I planned to join my colleagues on some field visits. At Ahmedabad station, I pulled out my train ticket to scan the big board for the platform number. Engrossed, I did not realise that a light-fingered pickpocket had robbed me of my wallet. With it went all my cash and credit card apart from the bits and pieces that are a part of any wallet. I quickly called my wife to inform the bank about the loss of my credit card. I then boarded the train with zero money, just my bag, my mobile phone and the ticket clutched in my hand. Feebly I asked the family travelling in the same compartment for some water, explaining my circumstances. No words. The mother in that family of five, extended a bottle with a terse, ‘Keep it.’ At 7,30 PM, the Gujarati family pulled out the dinner goodies. Wordlessly, they extended a fully loaded plate with a sample of every item that was on the menu. After the meal we spoke a bit before turning in. Next morning, we chugged into Bhopal on time. I thanked them profusely but they were not done. They insisted that I take 100 rupees to cover my immediate travel needs.
On to Tiruchirappalli, around 2011. My colleague and I were on a whirlwind tour of that region to talk to groups of graduates about the opportunities in the social sector. Excited about the day ahead, I jumped out of the bus at Trichy that morning, forgetting my laptop on the rack overhead. Only as we were having breakfast, did my terrible mistake hit me. In panic we rushed to the bus stand to seek the help of the drivers and conductors who had gathered. After a short confab, one of them said, ‘don’t worry, do your work and come back before lunch.’ We somehow completed the morning session and came back to the bus stand. And there, waiting to receive us with my laptop was one of them. Nonchalantly, he explained how they zeroed in on ‘our’ bus and alerted the conductor. By then a passenger had already spotted my bag and handed it over to the conductor, who then handed it over to the in-charge at Trichy bus depot when he completed his return trip. All this seems simple but look at the chain of honesty and diligence that ran through various people in the system to ensure my laptop came back to me.
In everyone’s life, there is always a vine of help and support available at every stage, for at most times good people surround us. If one sees help as an obligation that becomes a burden. If one receives it with just gratitude, it can be liberating.
(S Giridhar is one of the earliest members of Azim Premji Foundation.)
Published on June 22, 2026
