Have you ever come across someone who has appeared for a random instant but made a lasting impression?

It has happened to me a few times in my life and this is in their honour.

Our cook in India came from a distant village living in our house, going home once a month. His wife visited sometimes. Neatly dressed in a cotton sari and blouse she would come accompanied by her daughter who held her mother’s hand walking a few steps ahead. I would watch from a distance.  With what sure steps the woman walked, head held high, straight back and serene face. She was blind. The child her guide.

Every Sunday a group of sadhus walked past our house. One from the group always stopped, chatted with father, then extended his alms bowl to receive the “daan” (alms) grains of rice and lentils from my eldest sister. This became a routine.  The bowl fascinated me, I needed to see it up close. But I was also scared – the saffron clothes, hair tied in a knot, ash marks on face, all very unfamiliar to a child. One day curiosity overcame my fear. When the sadhu arrived I tagged along with my sister to help pour the grains into his bowl. The sadhu laid his hand on my head, blessed me and repeated the same to my sister. Almost like magic my fear disappeared, replaced with a sense of wonder. He looked different from father but he blessed me the same way. And the bowl? I had forgotten it.

Then there was the homeless man in Toronto. Before I continue I need to mention my daily commute that took an hour and half on good days increasing to double the time during winter blizzards. It was a three part journey taken, in quick succession, via train, subway and streetcar, the last being the most important link. Late by a minute and I would be left standing on the sidewalk looking with incredulity at the disappearing streetcar. Stressful to say the least.  Mornings were always hectic trying to reach my office on time with time to spare

This man was sitting on the cold concrete floor but he was not begging only looking up now and then. It was at that instant I caught the look in his eyes – kind, patient, gentle. I stopped mid-stride and greeted him, he smiled in acknowledgement. I gave him what I could scrape out of my purse. I found myself looking for him every morning then figured out his routine – he would show up only on Wednesdays. A few months later he failed to show up. We were now into full blown winter, I couldn’t even begin to imagine a person sleeping out in such weather, and I knew this happened in the city. Where could he be?

Then one Wednesday I saw him sitting in his spot. I asked him where he had been and he answered that he had found a rooming house, they had had him on their waiting list. Now instead of the cold sidewalk he would have a roof over his head and a warm bed to sleep. I congratulated him saying I had been worried when he disappeared. He thanked me smiling his typical serene smile. I often wonder how it was possible for such peace to be reflected on the face of a homeless person.

 

 

The stranger in Egypt who appeared from the desert to help. On the road to Luxor in the dark of night our car was totalled by an oncoming vehicle. The impact shattered the window to my left sending glass flying in my face, the driver’s seat smashed into my leg. I was sitting behind him. Within moments a young man had come over and proceeded to provide first aid. I was traumatized by pain my face bloodied, but his presence, quiet and efficient, comforted me. When the ambulance arrived he stepped aside, we wanted to thank him but he had disappeared, just as he had appeared, quietly. Throughout we hadn’t exchanged a word because he only spoke Arabic.

Now, the man in the parking lot. Trying to find a parking spot in a mall on a busy Saturday is tricky. We had pulled into a local mall, saw a spot and were about to park when another car sped up and parked in that space. We let it go but not before my husband had honked to let him know that we were behind so the driver should not reverse to straighten his car which was parked crooked.

The driver jumped out of his car and asked belligerently, why did we blow the horn? My husband replied it was to avoid an accident.  We entered the mall. Two hours later, during which we had lunched and shopped, while walking back to our car we were approached by the same man. He had waited for us all this time for he owed us an apology, he said adding he shouldn’t have spoken as he had. We assured him no harm had been done. Then, chatting with him we learned his father had just been diagnosed with cancer, there were issues of care-giving and he was still trying to take it all in. We offered to keep his dad and family in our prayers. Thanking us he re-iterated his personal problems did not excuse his earlier behaviour.

As I ponder on these random and unrelated incidents, I must admit each time I have come away richer in spirit and a greater understanding of people.

Keep Well…..Keep Smiling

Purabi Das

 

Purabi Das is an emerging writer and poet living in Pickering who finds inspiration for her stories and poems from life in general. To find out more visit Purabi on www.facebook.com/purabisinhadas