Kindness never dies ~ UBC 18

 

Increase in the price of milk, petrol, medicines, newspaper or anything at all; a teacher beating a child in school for not studying or completing his home assignments; an auto splashing muddy water on a passerby as he does not have the space to move further due to the heavy traffic; demand for bonus by the workers in various discplines and so on and so forth goes the long list of reasons to declare a bandh in the state of Kerala where I lived. Kannur in Kerala is very notorious for the numerous bandhs and hartals associated with it, even when the rest of the state or country does not observe it. These acts paralyze the normal life of the citizens. Vehicular traffic is off the roads, not a shop is opened for fear of stone pelting, and offices remain closed as the employees are unable to commute on a bandh or hartal day. Those with gumption dare to venture out of their households on such days.

It was a partial bandh called for by the bus employees that particular day when we lived in that small town. Every Tom, Dick and Harry worth his salt came out with any vehicle at hand even if driving it was a herculean task or maybe not even very familiar to him, as no other means of transportation was available on that day. After dropping our child in the crèche and me in my office my husband went to his office. My four year old daughter enjoyed her ride standing on the front panel base as her dad rode the scooter. This was our regular routine morning and evening. On that particular day we were near our home at the end of the day when a cyclist took a sudden right turn without a bell or signal and my husband lost control of the vehicle and all of us fell off.

The road was a really broad one with practically no traffic at that time. My child was thrown off the front of the scooter and my husband lay on the road with the scooter beside him. It was not clear to me if he had trapped his leg under the vehicle as I myself had fallen off the vehicle. The pastel blue saree that I wore turned crimson as a portion of it was hooked somewhere on the scooter and I was dragged behind the vehicle along the road leaving raw flesh gaping from the skin on my stomach portion.

No help was at hand as there were no pedestrians or traffic on the road that day. I somehow managed to get up and help my husband and child to get up as well. A minivan passing to the opposite direction suddenly stopped and some young gentlemen came running towards us. They helped us to get up and parked our vehicle on the side of the road. Blood was oozing out from the wound on my husband’s face as his spectacles had broken and pieces of glass tore into his face on his eyebrow and beneath the eye. In no time these gentlemen put all three of us onto their vehicle and drove to a good hospital. We were rushed to the casuality and the scant doctors on duty started attending on my husband who needed a surgery immediately. After about five minutes or so when I regained my composure I went out to thank the kind hearted souls who were not in sight and pay for the vehicle, but they were not to be found anywhere. The security guard told me that they left after bringing us in and talking to the doctors.

We  were in hospital for about ten days following the accident. Till this moment I am unaware of who the God sent good samaritans were. Very often I remember the incident and say a silent prayer wishing them  and their families all good. Do-gooders still exist and this world of ours is not a bad place to live in altogether.

 

I relate this act of kindness in response to The Daily Post, Writing Challenge :

Honey versus Vinegar

Small moments of kindness peek through our everyday lives, from your neighbors’ “Good morning!” to a surprise “I’ll take care of that for you” at the office. This week, we want you to explore what that kindness means to you, and share it with others.