In the Garden of Humanity

Dear Digital Diary,

As you may know, I have always possessed a quality that keeps me attentive to my surroundings, a unique trait in someone's behavior, a captivating action, or a thought-provoking conversation. This quality drives me to explore the hidden gems of everyday Life.

Today is September 6, 2023. My friend and I went to Lodhi Garden to complete some work. As we finished, we decided to head back to our PG. It was around 7 PM, and it was getting late.

While walking with my friend, something caught my attention : an elderly couple was approaching from the front. They were so old and drenched in sweat, as if they had been here for a long time. The elderly man carried a jhola, and you could see small patches of cloth that seemed to have been stitched onto the torn side of the jhola so they could use it more. He also held a stick in his other hand as a support to walk, and the elderly woman was carrying It seemed as though they were on a journey, or perhaps they had come here to meet someone, As we neared them, the elderly lady touched my hand. I was startled because I had witnessed an incident where two women distracted a man while another man stole his phone and wallet.That's why, without paying much attention to her, I grabbed my friend's hand and started walking even faster.

However, the elderly man said something like he wanted to know where the bus stand was and how to get there. My friend and I walked a little bit, then we started looking at each other with guilt. I was scared, considering our safety as we were two girls in Delhi, and it was getting late. I suggested we should leave, thinking they might be lying. But my friend, without hesitation, asked, "What if they are not lying? What if they genuinely need help?"For a brief moment, I hesitated, unsure of what to do. However, my friend wasted no time; she immediately began walking towards the elderly couple. Without a second thought

She approached the elderly couple and asked, "Kya hua amma?" (What's the matter, grandma?) The elderly woman explained that they had been looking for the bus stand and had asked many people for help, but everyone had ignored them and walked away.

Tears welled up in the grandma's eyes, and I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt because, in that moment, I realized I had also been one of those who had ignored them. The weight of that guilt clenched at my throat. However, my friend swiftly took out her phone, used Google to find the nearest bus stand, and showed them the way to the bus stop. She held the grandma's hand, and I held the grandpa's hand as we guided them to the nearest bus stand.

The grandma wiped away her tears with her pallu (the loose end or edge of a sari) and expressed her gratitude by saying thanks to us. I immediately responded, saying, "No, grandma, don't thank me. I don't deserve thanks. She does," I pointed toward my friend, " she is the one who came forward to help you" I stated. The grandma smiled at me with a look of love and kindness in her eyes, making me feel even more guilty. She then spoke up, "But you did not ignore us." A feeling of relief washed over me, coursing through my veins and spreading throughout my body. I suddenly felt light, and a subtle smile began to creep across my face. To conceal my emotions, I turned my gaze away, hoping they wouldn't notice.

We waited with them until their bus arrived. During this time, the grandma explained that they were trying to reach the train station because they didn't have money for an auto-rickshaw and hadn't eaten all day. My friend, without hesitation, offered the grandma her water bottle and gave her the 50 rupees she had in her purse. We usually relied on digital payment methods and rarely carried cash.

I looked at my friend, and she said, "What? As you know, I don't usually carry cash, but today, I did. Allah must have known that I would meet this couple, and this money is meant for them. She said it in a way that as she was trying to hide her kindness, as if she was giving to them simply because she had it, and nothing more." I smiled, realizing how pure and kind my friend is.

The grandma held my friend's face in her hands and blessed her, saying, "May God bless you, beta." She continued to pray for her, and I was so focused on my friend and how she could be so pure and kind. However, another thought kept running through my mind: What if people take advantage of her kindness? The real world can be quite daunting, and being kind in this world often feels like being a rabbit among a group of wolves.

After some time, the bus arrived, and we bid farewell to the elderly couple before heading toward the metro station. Yet, my concern for my friend persisted. As we crossed the road, I heard a fruit cart, known as a "thela," positioned beside the footpath. In India, these thelas often carry speakers to announce their offerings or attract customers through music, songs, or speeches.

As I worried about my friend, the thela played a naat with the line, "Bhalai kar bhala hoga" (Do good, and good will happen to you). I heard only this line and took it as a signal from Allah, assuring me that the good deeds she was doing would come back to her. It reminded me that it's in human nature to perform acts of kindness. Overwhelmed with this realization, I laughed and hugged her tightly. She embraced me back and asked, "What happened?" I didn't want to share my thoughts with her, so I simply replied, "Nothing," and hugged her even tighter.

Till the next time,

Rifat