Not all Strangers are Bad.
Some are extremely Good People. If you are in Chennai, chances are that 1 in 10 will be so!
The following Real-life story from a girl of 27-years can will prove how people of the city go out of their way to help others. Enjoy the read:
Good Samaritans, as narrated by the writer:
February 5th, 2009.
Chennai, India.
“Two men are following me” I could see them slow down to exchange looks, while I drive my black swift. I did casually notice the driver of the bike watching me through the windshield of his helmet. Casual flings, I thought. Paying no heed, I choose to purposely disregard the bikers and be immersed in my ocean of thoughts. Thoughts about relationships, love, betrayal, loneliness, hope, and God. Thoughts that kindles the deepest of my emotions, and metamorphoses as prayerful lamentations.
Little did I notice, to my dismay, whenever I stopped between signals, to the right outside my car window, were those bikers, staring at me.
Three traffic signals in a row, and I was petrified. I decided to steer the car as fast as I can and scorned the idiocy at which I ignored them at first. I did all that I can to stay clear of them. But they were out there, pacing to keep up and look at me.
In the hope of escaping, I accelerated my car at 60km/hr and finally reached my home. With a sigh of relief, I thought the bikers should have detoured near the Thirumangalam junction. Silly pleasures don’t last long, I thought.
But, only when I parked the car at home did I know that I was chased all over.
The strangers, who were just taking sights of me, were now in front of my house gates, wanting to talk to me. What could a stranger have to talk with a girl of my age? Does he not realize the shamefulness of his deed to follow someone all the way to their house? From inside my house gates, I furiously looked to see the guys, wanting to explode in anger. The men removed their helmets to start their conversation.
“Please don’t mistake me. I have a sister who looks like you, and I was concerned about you,” the words of the biker came out with a tone of social concern. “Please tell me what is your problem in life, whatever it is we will ensure to do whatever best that is possible of us” words continued with a want to offer help.
I now fairly perceived the reason for the bikers chase. “We saw you weeping inside your car, and we were scared that you may commit any unforeseen attempts, please tell us your problem. Are you parents in your house, maybe we can offer our help to them” the words came one after another, just wanting to support the unknown cause.
Rewinding, the bikers who had initially glimpsed my looks, had soon watched my eyes emote through its thoughts of life and hopelessness. They saw the tears turning to cry and the cries turning to moans and the moans turning back into blank silence. Little did they know that they were laments about betrayal that I was just driving back from. The bikers who saw this, got concerned.
I thanked the bikers for the genuine goodness and requested them to leave. Refusing to acknowledge any problem, I walked away. Cold and curt, I stepped into my house and locked myself inside my home. It should have been embarrassing for those two decent men, especially when all they intended to do was help. Regretting their goodness, they left my residence. I never saw them back again. I don’t know their names. Nor their whereabouts. But to show unintentional goodness to a stranger, they should have been souls with superior humaneness. Act of Random Kindness, without any profiting motives – that’s what they did that day.
Act of Random Kindness, without any profiting motives – that’s what they did that day.
Today, it has been over ten years since this event happened. As a happy, blessed person, that I’m now, I thank God for these selfless souls who are the reasons for the world to exist. People like them who go beyond their comfort zone to offer support to those who are emotionally broken are the unsung heroes.
I do not know the identity of the bikers who wanted to help me that day. But, I thank God for them.
I know not their names, but I prefer to call them the way my Lord does: “Good Samaritans.”
