BE HUMAN
An act of kindness worth sharing.
Yesterday, I went to Dabaspet, almost 90 km from Electronic City, to hand over my motorcycle to a logistics company for its journey to Delhi.
Once the paperwork and packing were done, I suddenly had a very practical problem — how do I get back home?
The godown was on the highway. The nearest bus point was further away, autos were difficult to find, and getting back to Electronic City would probably mean 3+ hours and multiple changes.
As I was walking out, the security guard at the gate casually asked,
"Where are you going, sir?"
"Bangalore."
I asked him whether I could find an auto or bus nearby.
Instead of simply giving me directions, he asked me to wait.
He checked the vehicles scheduled to leave the facility and spoke to one of the drivers. A fully loaded delivery truck heading towards Trivandrum was about to leave.
"He can drop you on the way."
That was it.
A stranger saw another stranger having a problem and decided to solve it.
I offered the security guard some money. He refused.
"I was only trying to help you. I don't expect anything."
I thanked him and climbed into the truck.
The driver moved his belongings, made space for my bag and helmet, and welcomed me into a world I had only ever seen from the outside.
And then the road started looking very different.
Sitting that high in a fully loaded truck gives you an entirely different perspective.
Cars cutting across lanes without indicators.
Two-wheelers squeezing through tiny gaps.
Vehicles overtaking from the left and sitting in blind spots.
We ride and drive as though the truck behind us has a 360° camera and can stop whenever we want it to.
It can't.
Braking a fully loaded truck is nothing like braking a car or motorcycle. Every careless lane change by someone else becomes a calculation the truck driver has to make.
As we continued towards Bangalore, we started talking.
I asked him about his work, his journeys and how he manages these long hours on the road.
Then I casually asked:
"How much do you get paid?"
His answer stayed with me.
₹4 per kilometre.
He explained that he needs to maintain roughly 37 km an hour; if his average falls below that, his effective earnings reduce accordingly.
He was driving all the way to Trivandrum.
He spoke about sleep, schedules, distance and the constant pressure to keep moving.
While I sat beside him working on my laptop, I realised how different our two working days were.
Same highway.
Same hours passing.
Completely different lives.
Eventually we reached Electronic City. He pulled over safely and helped me get my things down.
I offered him some money.
He refused too.
His reason was almost identical to the security guard's:
"I agreed because you might not have found another way from there."
Nothing more.
I took his number, thanked him and wished him a safe journey to Trivandrum.
I started that day simply trying to send my motorcycle to Delhi.
I came home carrying something far more valuable.
Two people who had absolutely no obligation to help me did so — and both refused to take anything in return.
Sometimes we make kindness sound like something extraordinary.
It isn't.
It can be asking someone where they are going.
Making one phone call.
Finding them a seat.
Moving your bag to make space.
Dropping someone along your route.
Or simply noticing that another human being needs help.
BE HUMAN.
Because you may never know the person's story, you may never meet them again, and nobody may ever know what you did.
But perhaps that is exactly when kindness means the most — when there is nothing to gain, nobody watching, and no expectation of anything in return.
And one more thing I will carry from that truck ride:
The next time you cut in front of a truck, squeeze through its blind spot or assume the driver will brake for you, remember there is a human being behind that wheel — carrying tonnes behind him, fighting distance, time and fatigue, while trying to get home safely too.
On the road and in life, leave a little space for another human being.
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