People of Mumbai

I was born and raised in Mumbai. A city that is always busy. A city that never sleeps. A city with crows of people chasing their dreams. A city that always helps. A city that is made special because of its people. I experienced a lot of situations where only because of the helping people I was able to survive. This is one of such stories. It is an embarrassing one yet it shows the the kindness of people of Mumbai.

This incident happened when I was working at a corporate office. With sophisticated corporate offices their comes a strict dress code. Also in corporate offices there are certain styles that we need to follow. One of such styles is wearing trendy and attractive shoes. I was someone who would always be comfortable in ballet flats or a sports shoes. When I started working I had to switch to heeled shoes.

One such day I was wearing kitten heel shoes. They were comfortable and stylish. Throughout the day I walked wearing them in the office. The real test was on the road. That is when they failed the test.

I got off from my office bus. I was walking comfortably and steady on the patchy street. The street was being repaired. There was water everywhere. There was cement everywhere. I was navigating my way through the mess of construction. Placing my feet gingerly so that I would not trip down. Little did I know that this is not going to be helpful.

At one particular spot where there was a lot of water and that spot was slippery. Unknowingly I had placed my foot there. My foot came in contact with the slippery surface and what happened was surely embarrassing. I slipped, tripped, and fell. I fell down not gracefully. I fell first on my knees, then my elbows, later on my face. My clothes were ruined because of the mud. My bag also got soiled. Pain of injury was the part I was least worried about. The pain of embarrassment was worse. The pain of losing the reputation was worse as well. I wish at that moment that nobody who knows me would have seen me in that state. I wanted to hide my face somewhere.

What happened after that changed my entire worldview. I was on a busy street. I was still noticed by many people. Two women came running towards me. They thought that I fell down because of dizziness. They helped me get up. They held my hand and took me out of the mess. There was a restaurant nearby. The owner saw me falling down and he came running outside. He asked the women to take me to his restaurant. He too thought that I fell down because I got dizzy. He made me fresh juice. He insisted that I should drink it to feel better. I was telling everyone around me that I fell down because of the slippery road and not because of dizziness. However they did not listen to me. They made sure that I was feeling better. The women stayed by my side insisting that I should drink the juice. The restaurant owner asked me if he should call a doctor. I said that I am fine. After drinking to juice the women took me to the restroom. With their own handkerchief they cleaned my wounds.

By the time we got out of the restroom a doctor was already there. He asked me about what happened and whether I had hit my head. He asked me several questions to rule out the possibility of a concussion. He had come prepared with first aid kit. He cleaned the wounds and bandaged them. I expressed my gratitude and I asked him how much should I pay him. He did not accept anything from me and he said that the restaurant owner is his friend. He also said that he decided to come and help because the restaurant owner was so worried about me. I could not express my gratitude enough to these women, the doctor, and the restaurant owner. They all wanted to ensure that I get well.

The restaurant owner insisted that he would call an auto rickshaw. I told him that I was fine and able to walk. Only thing that was broken was my pride. He still called an auto rickshaw. Told the driver not to accept any fare from me.

I was surprised to see their concern and hospitality. They were helping a stranger without anything in return. The restaurant owner did not let me pay for the juice, the doctor or even for the auto rickshaw. He said that he is doing only to help me. He is a business owner but he knows humanity. The women who helped me also did not expect anything in return. All of these angels help me selflessly.

Next day I went to the restaurant again. I knew that he would not accept anything from me hence I had placed an order that I was going to take home. He knew what I was doing but was still happy to accept my order. Unfortunately I was not able to locate those two women, the rickshaw driver, and the doctor. I could not express my gratitude enough towards them.

An incident like this definitely restored the faith in humanity. While the social media shows that humanity is dead, you may still find humanity at the very unexpected places. You will find humanity at a corner, at a crowded street, at a small restaurant, anywhere. All I had to do to find humanity was to fall down. Then humanity came running to me.

That's the beauty of our people of Mumbai. The city of film industry is also the city of Hearts of gold. One can only experience it.

"Madam can you lend me some money?" My house help Shanta asked me with a very polite tone.
"How much do you need?" I asked her. It was the month of May. I assumed that she wanted to go to her native place. She wanted to take something with her to be given to the relatives and that is why she wanted some money. Maybe she will ask for 1000 or 2000 rupees. I would pay her advance salary that way.
"I need 20000 rupees", said Shanta in equally polite tone. As if it is a simple favour that she is asking me.
"Shanta is my last name Ambani? It is not. I do not have that kind of money with me. I am not that wealthy that I would immediately have 20000 rupees with me. It is not a small amount. Besides why do you need 20000 all of a sudden?" Of course 20000 was a big amount even for someone who works in the corporate. It was important to know why did she require so much of money.
"Madam I thought you would understand," she was still calm. 20000 was not a joke. It is a huge amount. My monthly groceries and my other expenses do not even amount to 20000 rupees. The way she was asking it as if she is asking for a chocolate.
"I do not understand Shanta. It is a big amount. I don't have it and I won't be able to give you so much," I said in a stern voice.
"How much can you give me?" She was persistent.
"2000 maximum," I replied with a firm tone.
"And when will you pay me the remaining 18000 madam?" The audacity of this woman.
"Do you think I am a bank Shanta? As I said I do not have that much of money. And I am not going to pay you that much of money. I am paying you 2000 as your advance salary so we will adjusted in the upcoming months," I was shocked at how can she even think that asking for 20000 was fair request.
"Madam this is for my family's wellbeing," said Shanta.
" 20000 is completely out of question. Whatever be the reason maximum I can give you is 2000. Either take it or leave it. Besides you haven't even told me why do you need so much of money. Have you started gambling Shanta?", I had to start somewhere.
"No madam it is not that," Shanta told me.
"This conversation is going nowhere. I don't have so much of time to ask you again and again. Come in the evening and take Rs 2000 as your advance salary. That is it." I told her and started working.
Shanta had not left my house yet. She was still standing in the same place holding the same posture. She was neither speaking not moving.
"Madam please pay me just one time," she pleaded this time.
"Shanta you do not want to understand what I have said 10 times earlier. I will give you 2000 rupees as your advance salary not even a single rupee more than that," by this time I was furious. I have already wasted 30 minutes of my precious time on a conversation which was going in circles.
Shanta wiped her eyes and said, "My father had a stroke two days ago. He is right now in the hospital. My brother and sister do not have much of money. I have already sent them 5000 for the treatment. He will need to be in the hospital for at least one more week. I need money for his treatment."
So that was the reason. I empathized with her situation. I had a relative who also got stroke and was paralyzed. Yet the money was still out of question.
I said," in that case I will give you 5000. I cannot help you anything more than that. My budget is tight too".
"Thank you so much madam. This will help us" Shanta smiled a bit.

I gave her 5000 and she left shortly after. Few minutes later my phone rang. It was a neighbour from upstairs. She asked me, "did Shanta take any money from you?"
I said, " yes I give her 5000 for her father's treatment. Why what happened?"
"It's she still there? I wanted to tell her that I have found an NGO who would raise some funds for her." The neighbor said.
"That is amazing. It will definitely help her financial crisis," I said. So finally the problem was sorted.

I hung up the phone and the doorbell rang. Shanta was at the door smiling. She said to me, " madam thank you for your help. Joshi Madam spoke with the NGO and had arranged some funding for me. I came back to return the money." Santa handed over the cash to me.
"No you keep it just in case something else comes up, " I said.
"No Madam they are going to cover everything. Thank you so much for being so generous." She returned the money and left.

This made me realised that how honest she was. She could have kept the money and later would have returned it to me. Or she could have even kept the money and told me that it was spent in the treatment. But she did not do that. That showed the honesty and integrity. She was needy but not greedy.

This was another beautiful angle of the people of Mumbai. Integrity is in their blood. Honesty runs deep. That is something keeps the heartbeat of the city alive.

I am a healthcare professional. I automatically respect all healthcare professionals for their contribution to the wellbeing of the society. My admiration for the healthcare professionals did not start after I became one. It started way earlier in my childhood. I attribute it to two doctors - The Good Doctors.

Let's call them Dr S and Dr S madam. Dr S was a renowned doctor in my town. He was raised by his distant relatives who resided in a small village on the Gujarat Maharashtra border. He was fluent in Marathi and Gujrati languages along with English and Hindi. His wife, Dr S madam too was a doctor.

Dr S and his wife would practice in our area. They were the real lifelines of our area. Dr S had impeccable diagnosis. He would examine the patient and he would diagnose. Lab tests were only to confirm his diagnosis. His knowledge of the pathology and medicine was beyond ordinary. His clinic was always full of patients. He would accept patients of all ages and conditions. Patients used to travel from far distance to get treated by him. He would run his clinic for extended hours so that all patients would get the treatment they need.

Dr S was not only known for his expertise in the field. He was better known as a kind and empathic doctor. He would come for home visit irrespective of the time. Late night or early morning calls would still get attended. He would never tell a patient that he would not make a home visit. If any of his patients happened to get hospitalized, he would visit the patient each day to the hospital before going to his clinic. Most people would feel a relief only by knowing that Dr S is the doctor in charge. Such was his reputation.

Dr S madam was equally competent and caring. She would be the first point of contact for women and children. She would treat each patient with utmost care and empathy. Both Dr S and Dr S madam had an amazing track record of treating their patients. Their kind and caring nature made them special in the community. They became almost like close family members to their patients.

I can say that Dr S and Dr S madam ruled the hearts of their patients. I can say this for myself. Both being very close to me since I had been a baby. As a neonate I received my first vaccine at their clinic. Dr S had administered the vaccine to me. From common cold to pneumonia, Dr S had taken the responsibility of my wellbeing and treated me. As a child I used to think that Dr S and Dr S madam were my close blood relatives. That was their impact on me.

Time is never kind to anyone. It was not kind to the doctor couple as well. I was 25 years old and had back pain (laptop induced). I went to their clinic. Dr S was alone, Dr S madam had not come to the clinic. While giving the prescription, he said that Dr S madam is not keeping well. The hint of sadness in his voice told me that it was serious. A couple of months later, their clinic started remaining closed. Both of them would not come to the clinic. By this time both were in 70s.

The doctors suffered a bad fate. Dr S underwent 2 surgeries. Both failed making him handicapped. The doctor with a golden touch was crippled by ailments. Dr S madam was diagnosed with a terminal illnesses. She died shortly after the diagnosis. Dr S survived for a couple more years with impaired organs and senses. During the COVID lockdown he died due to his illnesses. When we heard about his demise, I wept. I had lost a family member.

Even many years after their demise, we still remember them. We still remember their expertise, kindness, and compassion. They left the world but their memories are still immortal. I had spoken about them so highly with various people and at various events. Such was their legacy. The good doctors dedicated their lives for their patients. They were not just good doctors but ideal doctors.

It is often said that when good people die, they become stars. If that is true, I am certain that the good doctors would have become the brightest stars in this galaxy. They are guiding us with their light. They would still be watching over their patients.

If our good deeds open the door of heaven, then I am sure, the good doctors have received the best seat in the heaven. The humanity would be forever thankful for their service in the mortal realm.

In my city there were many sweet shops. All the shops had a very unique tradition. Whenever any milestone academic years (eg 10th or 12th) results would get announced, the sweet shops used to offer discounts. The higher one scores the better would be the discount on sweets. I used to love this tradition. It would give motivation to the students for achieving good marks. At the same time the discounts would help the pocket of the parents. This story comes from my own experience with my favorite sweet shop.

The result of Grade 10 was announced. I was in Grade 10. I went to my school to collect my marksheet (This was several years ago when the marksheets used to be available in the school and the not online). I collected my marksheet and I had scored 83% in my 10th board exam. I was happy at the same time I was slightly disappointed. I was expecting 86%. The marks in the language were very less where I was expecting 90 out of 100. My school teachers told me that probably I would have scored really well, my answer sheet went ahead for score moderation, and after the score moderation the score was reduced drastically. Whatever be the case I was disappointed with my score in the languages. Anyway nothing could have been changed at that time.

I went to the sweet shop to buy the sweets. This was my favourite sweet shop from my childhood. All the staff in that shop used to know me very well. That was because I often used to visit this shop with my parents. Either we would buy Indian sweets or we would buy savoury food items (eg, dhokla, samosa, kachori) from this shop. All the staff in the shop used to know me by my name. So of course when I got good marks in my 10th board exams I went to this shop to buy sweets.

This shop was also offering discounts for the board students. As I had scored more than 80% I was entitled to receive 20% discount on the total cost. I had placed an order for sweets. As I entered the shop the staff welcome me with a loud applause. All of them were clapping for me. They knew that I would have scored really well. This simple gesture choked me up. I was on the verge of crying. Partly because of their grand gesture and partly because I was disappointed in myself. I looked at their promotional advertisement. If I had scored 85% I would have received 30% discount on my order. That really hurt me. But I was not going to cry. Not in public for sure.

I went to one staff member who had kept my order ready. He congratulation me and give me my pactked order of sweets. I was taking out my marksheet to show them for the discount but the shopkeeper said that would not be required. He said just tell me how much you have scored and I will give you the discount right away. I told him the score and heard a disappointment in my voice. He asked me if I thought I would score better. I said I was expecting three to four percent more than what I have scored right now. He kindly told me to not get disappointed. He also said that my score was the best of what they have heard throughout the day in their shop. That was little encouraging for me. Despite knowing that it was not true. He was trying to keep my motivated.

Also these staff members from the sweet shop used to know me since my childhood. They would always give me some gooddies whenever I used to visit them. They did this today as well. Along with my order they had kept four samosas in my bag. I noticed that and I told them that maybe they have given me the wrong bag and that was not my order. The shop owner was right there when this discussion was taking place. He used to know me very well too. He said that the samosas were on the house. The staff wanted to give me something on my milestone academic year. They could only offer Samosas which were available in the shop. This was another kind gesture by them which made me feel special. Now my disappointment was little reduced. I was encouraged and I felt little more proud of myself. Scoring 83% in the board exams was not a simple feat. I thought to myself. I decided something that moment. I will score much better for 12th.

This sweet shop is still there in the city. Their business is no longer what it used to be few years ago. It has slowed down as compared with how it was few years ago. But the shop is still special to me. It holds special memories in my heart. Whenever I am in that area I definitely visit that shop and buy something from there. It is my way of expressing my gratitude towards the beloved shop. It is my small contribution to keep the local business running. I want more people to experience what I had experienced for all days years.

As a long as I am alive this shop will have a special corner in my heart. Probably it will be the sweetest corner of my heart.

I have heard a lot of stories of brave acts comitted by commoners. How bravely commoners fought tooth and nail for the justice or protection. How the good conquers the evil. How commoners have the grit to fight against injustice or just a bad person. One story particularly stands out. This was a gallant act of bravery by a woman to protect her home and children from an intruder. This particular act comes from the complex where I used to stay as a child. The protagonist of this story is Mrs T.

Mrs T, a working woman used to live in our complex with her family - husband and two children. Her children were several years older to me. I had always seen Mrs T with wrinkles and grey hair. I had never seen her in her youth. However Mrs T was known for her dashing nature. She was fierce. She was fearless. She was a lioness. She became a celebrity in out town because of her heroic act.

This incident occurred several years before my birth, so I have heard this story from various sources. Each source would tell the story with their own version of events. Yet, the central idea and the outcome of Mrs T's bravery would remain unchanged.

Late 70s or early 80s were known to be notorious decades of Mumbai, especially because of the ever rising crime rate. While murders and extortion used to occur in broad daylight, theft was considered to be a milder form of crime. There would be news of theft every now and then. No commoner was unaffected because of the rise of underworld of Mumbai. Any time, any day, one could find a criminal at their doorstep. Commoners were helpless so were the police. There was such an incident that took place in our complex which changed this narrative.

As I was told: It was a quiet night. The city was sleeping. The streets were quiet. The signs of life included a few barking stray dogs. The city would be in the sweet slumber by 11 PM. Such was the time before computers and smartphones. Security guards would be on the duty. However, they were too old, too tired, too sleepy, or too coward to perform their duty. Their presence was only for complying with the local law. Security guards would hardly contribute to protection of the sleeping civilians. Nighttime used to be the time when the criminals used to be the most active. Also, they would be more successful owing to the dark. The sluggish atmosphere would create a perfect breeding ground for the crime.

It was one such nights. It was close to the midnight. Most people were fast asleep. So were the security guards. Criminal activity had already begun in the vicinity. A thief entered our society complex. He must have studied the society well. He knew the schedule of the security guard. He knew that nobody in the society comes back from a night duty. He knew where the main gate of the society was. He exactly knew which compound wall was easy to climb. The thief was planning to rob the houses on the ground floor. At that time rarely any houses would have grills or barricades. The access to these houses was easy from the balconies. The thief had successfully robbed two houses in the complex in the same night. Now he moved to the third house. The thief had no idea what was written in his fate for that night.

The third house where the thief broke in was Mrs T's home. Mrs T was a light sleeper. Though the thief was moving quietly, she understood that someone had broke in. She went to the kitchen and quietly grabbed a thick iron pan. Along with that she grabbed a wooden stick. She moved like ninja. When she noticed the thief was entering her bedroom she attacked the intruder with the domestic weapons she had gathered. She hit the thief in his head with the pan. The thief fell down due to this blow. While he was getting up she hit him with the wooden stick. Mr T woke up because of the commotion. Mrs T was fighting like Rani Lakshmibai. Mr T grabbed a bedsheet and tied the thief with it. Then he called up the police to arrest the thief. By the time the police arrived, the thief was happy to leave with them. Mrs T had beaten the thief badly enough. Furthermore, all stolen jewelry and money was recovered from the thief which were handed over to the real owners.

Mrs T became a celebrity. Every event, function, or gala that would happen in our complex, she would be the chief guest. That was how the complex thanked her. She deserved a lot more for her bravery. Unfortunately, no government body awarded her for her protective act.

Mrs T used to speak about that incident. She thought only about one thing that night - the safety of her asleep children. Any noise would have alerted the thief. She did not know if he was armed. She felt that the offense was her only defence. That way she could have bought time to wake her husband. That pure thought of protecting the children gave her the strength. Adrenaline did the remaining part.

Even today when I narrate her story to anyone, they are impressed with her bravery. The maternal instict turned an ordinary woman into a protector. She deserved her bestowed name of "Braveheart aunty".

Vada pav is the classic snack which is famous among all Mumbaikars. Anywhere you go you in Mumbai, you will definitely find at least one shop selling vada pav. Mouth watering Vada Pav is one of the favourite snacks of the Mumbai people. There are many stories associated with vada pav. This is one of my stories.

Near the railway stations there used to be a lot of eateries. Any railway station in Mumbai, you would find that outside the railway station there will be many small restaurants or food corners. Almost all of them used to serve vada pav. The place where I used to live we had a lot of restaurants which were dedicated to prepare varieties of vada pav. There was one eatery shop which had started selling Vada Pav for just ₹5. This shop was an iconic shop where there used to be a lot of sweet and savoury snacks available for easy snacking and snacking on the go. Their Vada Pav was equally iconic. They used to sell over a thousand vada pavs in a day. All the staff members of this shop were highly efficient and also polite. It was wondeful to see them in the action. They used to multitask. They would prepare the food, take orders from the customers, give them what they have ordered, and also take the fare from them. There efficiency was top notch.

It was the shops 25th anniversary. To celebrate this milestone the shop had come up with a brilliant idea. Instead of selling the Vada Pav for ₹5 they had decided that they will sell their vadapav only for one rupee. It was a brilliant marketing plan. Everyday people use to flock to this shop to buy vada pav. Since the price was dropped the footfall would be even more. It was a success.

The story does not end here. Rather it begins here. I was in college back then. I had returned from the college. I got off at the station. I was completely unaware that the shop had their celebration and also the celebratory reduced rate of vada Pav for that day. I got off the train and I was on the platform. I was walking towards the Railway Bridge so that I can go to my home. On the platform I saw one man eating the vada pav. It was very common to see since the street food shop which I mentioned earlier was very close to the station. We often used to see people eating Vada Pav on the platform. I did not find that strange. Then I saw one more person eating vada pav. That was not strange too. Then I saw a group of 5 or 6 people entering the platform who also had Vada Pav in their hands. Few more people were entering the platform as the train was about to arrive. All the people who were entering the platform were carrying Vada Pav in their hands. They had already started eating or they were about to start eating their vada pav. This was a strange visual. Almost every person on the platform had Vada Pav in their hands. Most people were eating vada pav. I felt as if I am in the flood of vada pav and I am drowning in it.

That visual reminded me of one of the classic stories which was shown in the movie Darna Mana Hai. In that story a woman goes to the market to buy vegetables. She sees a vendor selling apples at a very low rate. Everyone is buying apples from this fruit vendor. Next day when she wakes up she sees that the city is full of apples instead of human beings. Everyone who has eaten at least an apple the previous day has turned into an apple themselves. She sees the Apple vendor looking at her and offering her the last apple he had on his stall.

Looking at all the people who were at the platform eating Vada Pav reminded me of this story. I thought to myself that what if the people who are eating Vada Pav today would become Vada Pav tomorrow. I imagined that the next day I arrived at the platform and see that the entire platform is covered in vada pav. It was a crazy thought but I definitely did think about it. I laughed at my own imagination.

After so many years I still remember the incident as if it happened yesterday. This was their brilliant marketing campaign. Even after 15 years I still remember it clearly. It became memorable enough to write it in a story. This is how the people in my city are. They have sharp mind for business. They saw opportunities to create and bring more business. It did not matter whether business was big or small. They knew how to run it and they knew how to grow it.

Dosa - one of the best foods in this world. The batter delicately falls on the hot pan; spreads comfortably; becomes thin and crispy; deliciousness on a plate. Dosa is one of the favourite breakfast feasts. It is delicious, filling, nutritious, low in calories, and easy to digest - all good things together. Dosa is a delicacy that one can find in most casual restaurants. However, I believe that dosa from the street vendors taste the best. This story comes from such a street vendor.

I have always lived in a crowded area of the city. From my home, every facility was available at a convenient distance. One such facility was street food vendors. We had one entire lane dedicated to food. It was called Khau galli. In this lane, there were vendors selling south Indian food, chat, sandwiches, and beverages. While there were 6-7 vendors who would exclusively sell south Indian delicacies, one vendor always stood out to me.

This vendor, let's call him K, had taken over the stall from his father. His father had happily retired and had returned to their native place to spend the rest of his life. K was in 20s when he took the charge of the business. K was not well educated but was street smart. He was young and innovative. He had ideas to bring more business. He was driven by passion to make their business a legacy and benchmark.

The first idea that K implemented was selling filter coffee and boiler tea. The south Indian vendors would only sell idli, vada, and dosa. Most people would drink tea or coffee after the food and go to beverage vendors. K observed this pattern and started selling tea and coffee, making his stall a one stop shop. The filter coffee and tea were freshly made in front of the customer. This attracted more crowd to K's stall.

K's second masterstroke was introduction of small fridge at the stall. Mineral water and cold drinks would also become available at K's shop. This move invited the customers who crave for a cooling drink instead of a hot beverage. Day by day, K was gaining more business. K understood the voice of the customer and made it his mission. While introducing new concepts, K ensured to keep the quality of food. Dosa, idli, or vada at his stall would always be perfect. I was one of his regular customers. Over the years, I had never noticed a dip in the taste or quality of idli, dosa, or vada.

Another trait of K that made him special was the respect for the customer. While other vendors wanted to serve the customers quickly and clear the crowd, K would do exactly opposite. He would hold conversations with his customers. He knew his regular customers well. He would know about their professions, family, and even problems. If K knew someone's problem, he would try to find the right person to solve the problem, that too from his own customer base. He would introduce a carpenter to the home owner for household work; connect a customer to a banker customer; refer a patient to a doctor. So on and so forth. K not only fed the customers but he became a true friend and facilitator to his customers. He would offer free breakfast on the customer's birthday or would give free parcel on anniversary of the customer. I remember that he had given me a free dose when I completed my graduation. He maintained a loyal customer base owing to his friendly and helpful nature.

K was not just a smart businessman. He was kind and charitable too. He used to feed a beggar every day. He would send the first batch of idli each day to the nearby temple, so that poor and homeless could be fed. He helped every person in his capacity.

K was getting old. His son took over the business from him - juat like how he had done. His son was raised in the same environment. He was equally hospitable and kind. He continued all rituals and traditions which his father had started. When K saw that all his customers were in safe hands, he made a decision to retire. Just like his father, K returned to his native place.

A few days ago, we learnt that K died at the age of 82. He died peacefully in sleep - a rare and precious death gifted only to god's favorite children. Indeed he was god's favorite. His charity, kindness, compassion, and hospitality made him a legend. The news of his demise made his customers cry. They had lost a loyal friend that day.

K's stall is still there to tell a tale of his legacy. His story is ordinary but it is special. He rose from being another dosa vendor to the coveted position of everyone's friend and guide. As long as K's generation keep K's spirit and traditions alive, K's legacy would stay strong on this mortal plane.

In society complexes there are many people in the supporting function. These include housekeepers, office managers, and the watchmen. Most society complexes have watchmen working in two or three shifts. This is to ensure that a watchman or a security guard is always present at the main society entrance to protect the residents. The society security guards were integral part of society complexes. Mainly because their contribution to the security of the complex. However some security guards made a long lasting impression on the society members even after they had left the job. This is the story of such a security guard.

When I was four or five years old there is used to be a security guard in our society complex. His name was Gagan Singh. He was in his middle age when he started the job at our society as a security guard. I had heard from my dad that Gagan Singh used to be a military man. He was in army and was honorably discharged after suffering an injury. It was believable. Gagan Singh was tall and muscular. He had a thick moustache. He had the kind of personality which would feel protective to the people and frightening for the criminals. Gagan Singh was sometimes placed on a night duty whereas sometimes on the daytime duty. Irrespective of his shift Gagan Singh would always be alert, attentive, and awake. He would ensure that he would patrol the entire perimeter of the complex during his shift hours. When he would patrol his military walk would appear very prominently. No criminal would dare to face him.

Despite how scary he used to look Gagan Singh was a kindhearted man. He was friendly and helpful. Whenever he used to see any adult person from the society he would stand up from his chair and salute them. He would call everybody sir or madam irrespective of their age. If he noticed that someone is carrying a heavy bag he would voluntarily help them to carry it. If he would see any parent carrying their children he would offer his help to carry the children or the bags. Gagan Singh was very active. He would never say no to any work.

Gagan Singh was equally strict. He would never allow any vendor or hawker to enter our society complex. He would check the identity of every visitor before they entered our society complex. Now remember this was from early 90s where the advanced security systems were not available. Also it was not expected from the security guards to check the identity and purpose of the visit. Gagan Singh would still do that even though not being asked. He knew the importance of his job. He respected his job and made every effort to make his work more effective and efficient. He was our superhero.

During the festival time Gagan Singh would have a very different Avatar. He would take all the children around the society complex to show them the best decorations. He would take the children around the complex to distribute sweets. Gagan Singh was very protective of the children. He would always ensure the safety of children. If he saw a child crying he would ask the child why were they sad. He would try to make the child laugh again. Gagan Singh loved children. Once he was telling an uncle in society that the children remind him of his own children.

Despite being a prominent figure in our society complex we hardly knew anything about Gagan Singh's personal life. Nobody knew where his native was. Nobody had any clue about his family. Nobody knew where his family was; whether they were staying in the city or they were back in a village. Gagan Singh's professional life was very well documented however about his personal life there was always a mystery.

I believe I was 12 or 13 years old when this incident took place. My father was society secretary. One evening Gagan Singh had come to our home after he had finished his duty. This time Gagan Singh was probably in his late 50 or early 60s. He told my father that he no longer wishes to work. He said that because of the physical work that he had done throughout his youth he is now tired. He wanted to retire. He wanted to rest. He wanted to resign from his duties as a security guard. He also said that he will find his replacement before leaving. It was indeed sad to hear his side of the story however there was no option to deny his request. He had served the society complex and people for a several years. He had rightfully earned his retirement. My father agreed and asked him where would he go. He mentioned that he would go to his village however he did not mention where his village was. He was still secretive about his personal life.

Gagan Singh stayed for another 2 months. He found a security guard and trained him before leaving. On Gagan Singh's last working day, in the society a farewell was arranged for him. All the members of the society had gathered some money which was gifted to Gagan Singh for his loyal and dedicated service to the society. All of us kids had prepared a handmade greeting card for Gagan Singh. We had written many wishes for him in that card. When Gagan Singh was given the money and the card, it was the first time when we saw tears in his eyes. For the first time we had seen our superhero crying. He was overwhelmed because of the love and respect that he had received.

Gagan Singh left. Several or other security guards came and went. Nobody was ever able to replace Gagan Singh. He had set the benchmark for dedication, loyalty, hard work, and kindness. No one was able to reach that benchmark. Even today Gagan Singh's name is often mentioned in the conversation of people in the society. After several years he is still remembered and missed. Nobody got to know anything about him after he had left. Yet he is a legend even today. His story would serve as a lesson for the generations that are yet to come.

I was raised to use and reuse everything. When the clothes I wear outside used to fade, I would wear them at home. When they were unusuable, I used to make things out of them (eg, pillow covers). But some clothes could not be used at home. Those clothes I used to donate to an NGO. I was associated with that NGO for a very long time. Later the NGO moved their base and I was unable to get in touch with them. This incident occurred at that time.

I have this habit of decluttering my wardrobe every now and then. I clean my wardrobe every month and declutter it in every 3-4 months. It was such time of decluttering. I had taken out all clothes from wardrobe and was cleaning yhe wardrobe. Out househelp Shanta had come and was doing her chores. She was me cleaning the wardrobe - I was keeping some clothes in the wardrobe; folding some clothes and putting them away. She saw me doing this. She generally would speak a lot but this time she was a little hesitant.
"What are you doing, madam?" Finally she gathered the courage to ask me.
"I am cleaning my wardrobe. I have to remove the unnecessary things. Otherwise I will have no place for my clothes," I said while folding my clothes. While doing that I looked at her. Her eyes were glued to yhe bag where I was putting the clothes. Those were the clothes that I did not want to keep. It was obvious that she wanted them but she could not ask me. I found it weird to ask her directly if she wanted the clothes. Her daughter was working with a bank and was earning well. Shanta still wanted to be independent that is why she was still doing the hard labour. Finally, I thought I would ask her in a milder way.
"Do you want anything Shanta?" A very generic question with no specificity.
"No.. Yes.. No," Shanta was unable to decide.
"Well then finish yhe work quickly. I have a lot of work to do here," I said hoping for her to say what she wanted.
"Why are you putting those clothes in the bag?" She found a way to start the discussion.
"I don't want those clothes, that is why I am keeping them in the bag," I said.
Looking at the bag she asked me, "why do you not want these clothes? These look so good."
"Yes they are good clothes but they do nit fit me anymore. Some of them, I have used for over 15 years and I am bored now. Just like this one. I bought this when I was in college, I have worn it several times. I have used it so much that now I am bored of it," I said while folding that very dress.
"But it is no pretty. All your clothes are pretty," She had an urgency in her voice.
"I know. But I cannot keep them because they are pretty. They are no longer useful to me," I explained.
"What are you going to do with these clothes?" Finally this discussion was going somewhere. She was asking real questions now.
"I used to donate them to an NGO earlier. Now that NGO is no longer here. I am not sure how to get rid of them. Of course I am not throwing away these clothes. I wish there was someone or at least some institute where I could have donated," I was making this conversation easier for her by showing that I am willing to give away the clothes. I had no intention to throw them away. I knew they would land up in landfill.
Shanta took the bait, "will you given them to me?" She asked me in a shy voice.
"Do you want them? Are you sure?," one more piecing question to her. I knew she wanted those clothes.
"Yes, if you are okay, please give them to me. They are so pretty. My daughter can use them. If she doesn't want them, I would give them to my niece," she was ready to risk it all. She wanted them badly.
"Great. I will wash them and keep them ready for you tomorrow," I said in a victorious tone. It was a win-win situation. She would get the clothes and I would get rid of them too. She took the bag the next day.

A few days later, while Shanta was working, she came to me with her phone. "I want to show you photos," she said with a big grin on her face. It was her daughter's photo from an event. She was wearing one of my dresses; from the clothes Shanta took home. I was surprised to see her daughter wearing my dress. She was earning well and did not have to wear donated clothes. But still she did.
"Madam, there was a big event at her office. She wanted a new dress. I showed her your dresses. She picked this one. All her colleagues loved it. Look she was so happy to wear it," Shanta was proudly showing me the photos.

I was glad to see my dresses being reused. That day I understood the true meaning of the phrase "one man's trash is another man's treasure".