A Friend in the Crowd

In a move-on culture full of fast forgetting, one woman recalls the stranger who chose instead to stop, notice, and care

- Ameetha Chari

DURING MY COLLEGE YEARS in Bangalore, some time in the early '80s—before the internet, before television, before social media—our days were filled with simpler, and more tangible pleasures: a good book, endless conversation, or, most thrilling of all, for me at least, a Saturday at the movies.

Teeming with cafés, restaurants, and the busy chatter of people with places to be, Bangalore is a city that's always on the move. But its crown jewel was the cinema. One weekend, my friend Sumi* and I set our sights on the Rex Theatre on Brigade Road, a magical place that felt like the epicentre of the universe. I can't, for the life of me, remember the name of film we were going to see. What I do remember is the ride there—wedged into an autorickshaw that rattled through traffic like it had somewhere far more urgent to be.

That afternoon, Brigade Road was pure chaos in motion—bikes, cars, buses, and people spilling across lanes as if the pavement were optional. We disembarked at the theatre, and I stepped on to the road, thinking only of popcorn and plot twists. And then, in one strange, startling moment, I collapsed.