In what is one of my favourite plays, a complex character says of herself towards the end, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Even though I haven’t ever watched the play (I seem to be one of those people that enjoys reading plays more than watching them), this is a line that has stuck with me due to the unusual ring it has to itself.

Of course, in the case of the character I’m talking about, this line is steeped in a poignancy – of being lonely, of being rejected by her own, of having failed in life. Now, if we add a positive twist to the same line, it suddenly becomes a celebration song for the whole of humanity.

But how often do we plan to rely on the kindness of strangers to help us get through life? The general way to live life is to try and be independent, rely on friends and family and not hope for anything from others. Yet, whenever you encounter that moment when you get help from people you barely know when you most need it but least expect it.

When I was on a trip to India last month, I wasn’t expecting any help from strangers. It was another thing that I was carrying luggage beyond my carrying capacity. And I made the rather stupid decision of taking the Delhi metro from one corner of the city to another with my two bulky bags.

Other than being at the risk of late for the bus that I was to take out of the city, I was also without a local phone. My cell phone, with my Nepali number, died out at the beginning of my journey, so I didn’t even have something to check the time with. This was my scenario as I was leaving Delhi to get to a hill station in Northern India.

I first got into trouble when I was unable to roll my bags across the check-in thingy at the metro station. You know, after you’ve bought your ticket, you slide it across the surface of this gate like structure, and the doors open. Well the doors close as soon as a person gets in. But I was out of my wits trying to figure out how to sneak in all the bags including myself as a single person – the mass and mess combined to make an effect of more than three people.

It was then that a guy who I’d been walking along with before this, just looked at me, smiled and picked up my heavier bag. He gracefully glided through the gate and I thought – well, let me say thank you and take my bag back. But no, he took it up the stairs, put them inside the metro, offered me the seat that he had found first.

While I was seated and he was standing guarding my litter of bags, we had a lovely conversation. It was at this point that he informed me that I should probably call the bus guys to tell them I might be a little late. Which is when I informed him that I did not have a phone on me. So without a moment’s hesitation, he got out his phone and gave it to me to use. I used his phone to call up the bus people half a dozen times to make sure that they would not leave without me.

When my broken Hindi failed to help me get my point across, he took over, commanding them to wait for me.  Then we exchanged names, then our contact information. As I said goodbye, I tried to give him the biggest smile I possibly good, gathering all the gratitude I felt in my heart.

Had I not met this stranger, I would have probably taken half an hour, dragging my luggage through numerous security checks and electric gates to get into the metro and inevitably missed my bus at the opposite end of town.

Three weeks later, on my way back from the hill station, I promised myself that this time I was going to make sure nothing would go wrong. But as soon as I got into the bus, my belly started grumbling and soon I got nauseous.

Now, getting nauseous in a bus is a fairly ordinary thing, but I’ve never thrown up while traveling. Well, I guess there’s always a first time for everything. The young man who was sitting next to me handed me a plastic bag he’d been given by the bus people, and I puked my gut into it while the bus kept moving.

Along the way, I drank a lot of water and soda to placate the storm that was still going on inside my stomach. So that by 3 am, my bladder was ready to burst. The bus was not going to stop until 6 in the morning when it reached Delhi. I turned towards my gentleman friend and told him that I needed to pee, and that I needed him to get the bus to stop. Now!

And he went over to the driver and got the bus to stop, in the middle of nowhere. I got out and peed to my heart’s content. And can I tell you something? Peeing out in the open is always, always a better option than peeing inside public toilets in India.

When we got off the bus, he helped me get into an auto, then into the metro, bought a ticket for me and helped me with my luggage as well. I couldn’t believe my luck. Both times traveling, some divine force had made sure that I was safe and taken care of. How else would I have had encountered gentle, helpful, patient people to put up with all the chaos I was generating?

Of course, both people were young men – and isn’t that just what we are supposed to distrust? That young men, particularly in India, are unreliable, are only willing to help us when there’s something in it for them.

But maybe it is just our perspective that is narrow. That in order to protect ourselves, we have become pessimistic and cynical to the extent that we won’t trust the good things in life. Cheers to great journeys, and even greater people that we stumble upon unexpectedly. How great it is to be able to depend on the kindness of strangers!

Ms. Sumi teaches English to high school students. When she isn’t in the classroom, she likes to read novels, write poems, and spend time in the kitchen. She is also a great appreciator of wildlife and considers spiders, cockroaches and leeches as some of her favorite insects.

http://www.parakhi.com/blogs/2011/11/10/the-kindness-of-strangers/