Moral Short Story – A Divine Help
Photo credit: bullboy from morguefile.com
Screaming, shouting and scoffing at my mother, I bashed the door closed and moved out. My temper issues were clearly visible. The small girl next to my flat looked at me like she has seen a monster. A monster might be an inferior comparison with the entity I become when anger grasps me. Not too long ago, my wallet was lost rather stolen I guess from my university canteen. The price of not advocating to father’s advice of not keeping originals in wallet was paid by me. 2 ATM cards, University ID, 2 Driving licenses, some cash and few photographs…. All gone!
Now I have to go to the bank which was near bout 50 miles far from my town to reissue the lost credentials. I had no other option left with me than to travel with the crawling passenger train that burdens almost a whooping number of 800 passengers at a time, while the limit was only 450.
In order to overcome the stench that came from the villagers, I somehow managed to occupy a seat near the window. Who are these people and why do they travel? Thoughts like these were constantly engrossed in my mind with a clear visible facial expression of hate and disgust. The high standards of life and comforts were clearly dominating my views against the human perspectives and ideals. Why are their faces so grim and rather repulsive I thought. In the constant race of the development of the nation is there any rack needed for these people? Do they really deserve to be called civilized? I didn’t realized that my journey was completed while I was busy offending these people in every way possible. The brakes screeched which caused the sluggish train to stop.
I went to the bank, filled out some forms and received my renewed cards. The cool and soothing air of the air conditioner gave me some relief from the thoughts of the horrendous journey and helped me to forget that I have to travel back with the same train again back home. All the formalities were completed. Time to go… I thought while a feeling of despair ran through my body like a chill. Reaching the railway station with a scorching temperature of 45 degrees had made me feel sick already. The condition worsened when I saw the distant view of a long queue for tickets. Somehow I consoled myself that this is it. Few more hours and I’ll be back home with mother feeding me with the exquisite dishes she makes. The aroma of her dishes were somehow trapped in my brain. I was busy recalling the delicious taste….. and something happened. Some one tapped my shoulders from behind.
“Bhaiya Ji” ( Excuse me in Hindi with much more sense of closeness indeed). I heard a shaky and grim voice. I turned around and saw an old man aged around 60-65 years. His appearance took me less than a few seconds to realize that he was a farmer from a small village. Saffron turban around the head, a dusty white Kurta ( A long shirt like apparel wore in India) and a muddy Dhoti ( Another garment which men wear below the waist). Generally these sets of apparel are worn either in villages or sometimes in cities in some marriages and traditional functions. He also had a little boy accompanying him, his grandson I guessed.
“Kya aap bata sakte ho ki Nagor ke liye ticket kaha se milega?” ( Can you please tell me where i can get the ticket? I want to go to Nagor village.) He asked in a soft and pleading voice. His face was gloomy and sorrowful as if something unfortunate had happened with him. I guessed he was searching for the ticket window for unreserved tickets but the station was considerably crowded with a total of 7 ticket booking windows and he was bewildered by the mob. He told me that he had asked a few persons but nobody gave answer to his question and replied to him remorselessly.
Something changed in me that very moment. I helped him get the ticket by getting him a place in the queue slowly so that the person standing behind me wont notice. I told him that he will find his train on platform no 3. He thanked me at least three times before leaving for his platform. I was so calm. I boarded my train with no anxiety or distress. During the whole journey I never bothered to complain about the villagers. The old man was still in front of my eyes in memories. This unexpected meeting had taught me the real values and meaning of humanity. The thought of old man and his grandson reaching his destination gave me so much satisfaction which I cant express. A sense of divine pleasure engulfed me. As I looked out of the window I had reached.
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