TO MY UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR

Stories of nameless Good Samaritans that reminds us that even the smallest acts of compassion can never be forgotten

- BY RD Readers

A GUIDING LIGHT

I HAD JUST RELOCATED to the suburb of Bhayandar in the early summer of 1996. On one rainy day, while at work, the news of the sad demise of the father of one of my colleagues trickled in. As I travelled to Dombivili (a distant suburb on the Central Railway) with my coworkers to offer our condolences, the daylong downpour had intensified. It was after 8 p.m. when we left and it was 11.30 by the time I reached Bhayandar. When I stepped out of the station, I found that the rains had flooded the area and I had to wade outside in knee-deep water. No rickshaws, no electricity. This was before the smartphone-era when a flashlight is just a quick click away, so there I was trying to navigate gaping potholes, open gutters, and fallen trees all while keeping balance, holding up my belongings and staying vigilant for creepy-crawlies, in the dark. I was tired and scared, when suddenly, a beam of bright light flashed from somewhere behind me, lighting the way. A man's voice rang out, “Chalte raho, road safe hain!” (Keep going, the road is safe!)

In the gleam, I could make out a few other people ahead, in the same predicament as I was, and my pace quickened with relief to know that I was not alone. Even as I turned into a bylane, the torchlight still followed. Finally I reached the gates of my building society, and turned to thank the person, but there was no one around—my Good Samaritan perhaps on his way to shepherd other commuters to safety. The rain continued all night, unabated.

—Rekha Menon, Mumbai

A PORT IN THE STORM