Lingering goodness

The entrance to the Refineries School

I was under the impression that goodness had vanished from the human world altogether. We have majestic leaders now who openly advocate hatred and violence, and the number of their followers is mounting by the moment. Even religions are more about donations and palatial buildings than love and compassion. Worse than the lusting after power and wealth is the mendacity of the people in high positions. They propagate a lot of falsehood among the gullible people of the country. Falsehood has replaced truths in a country whose motto is Satyameva Jayate. The situation has made me so cynical that I turn and look around for a coffin the moment I smell roses.  That’s why what happened on Saturday last made a lasting impression on me.

I was at Cochin Refineries School near Ernakulam for over a week on a duty assigned by CBSE. Saturday was my eighth and last day of duty there. Many people on the campus like the security guard at the gate had already become familiar with my face. As soon as I entered the gate of the school on Saturday, the guard pointed at one of the front tyres of my car and said, “Puncture, sir.”

The Refineries School is still under construction and the road leading to it is a rather narrow one which forces vehicles to move out of the tarmac whenever another vehicle is encountered. My tyre had taken a nail in the process. Since it was a tubeless tyre, it survived until I reached my destination.

“Can I get somebody to mend the tyre?” I asked the guard. He turned to a young man who was sitting near the gate waiting for someone. He looked like a labourer. He told me he knew two persons who did the job and would contact them. “Give me your phone number and I’ll call you as soon as it is arranged,” he told me.

An hour later he called me to say that the two persons wouldn’t come since they had a lot of work at their respective tyre work centres. But he added, “Since you’re going to be here till afternoon I’ll try to convince one of them to come when they can manage it.”

Since it was the last day of my duty my work was over before the usual time of 4.30 pm. At 2.30 I called the young man. “No, sir, they won’t come,” he said. “Can I get someone to replace the punctured tyre with the spare one that I have?” I asked. “Oh, I can do that for you,” he said. I heaved a sigh of relief.

The parking lot of the Refineries School stood burning hot in the afternoon sun. It was impossible even to just stand in that sun. But the man was there waiting for me as I arrived having completed all the paperwork in the school. He got on to the job immediately. By the time he changed the tyre and put the punctured one back into the boot of the car, he was drenched with sweat.

I thanked him and asked, “How much?”

“No, nothing,” he said.

I was stunned. I pulled out my wallet. He waved the money away and said, “I was only helping you. Please start your car and I just want to make sure the alignment is okay.”

He waved me off as I was still trying to absorb all that goodness that came as a shock rather than a surprise.

Yesterday I was outside my home at about 8 o’clock in the evening. I had just closed the drinking water supply to my tank and was going into the house when I heard a sound from the entrance to my house. “Chetta,” someone called. There was a young man and a woman with a little child in her hand. Their bike had run out of fuel.

“What shall I do?” I asked.

“Can you lend me your scooter for a while?” He asked. “I’ll get some petrol from the nearest pump.”

The image of the young man at Cochin Refineries School rushed to my mind. I brought the key of my scooter as well as an empty mineral water bottle which he could use for bringing the petrol.

Goodness is contagious too. I wonder why our leaders don’t understand that.