Tiny Tales: A Seat for Kindness

Life is made up of tiny moments, and each one has a story to tell. In this section, I share personal stories - big or small, ordinary or extraordinary. It’s about what I felt, the thoughts that crossed my mind, and the lessons these moments left behind. Here, the mundane becomes meaningful.

Sometimes, it’s the simplest events - like a conversation on a train or a walk at sunset—that carry the deepest meaning. Through these tales, I hope to convey a sense of connection, and maybe even leave you with a thought to take away.

Mumbai - a city that never sleeps, always buzzing, always alive. I recently returned to this vibrant city after three years, as I am currently visiting India from Canada. I spent two days exploring, laughing, enjoying delicious food, watching a mesmerizing sunset, and even experiencing a few “Khatron Ke Khiladi” (Daredevil) moments on the Mumbai local trains! Let’s just say, it was an experience to remember!

But as I boarded my train back to my hometown, Surat, something happened—something small yet profound, something that made me feel like the universe had truly answered my morning prayer.

The Prayer

Every now and then, when I wake up and remember, I ask the universe for something good to happen. It doesn’t have to be grand - just a lesson, a moment of joy, or something that shifts my perspective. To be honest, it has tremendously changed my mindset. And I can say that this was one of those experiences!

A Request

On the train, I was settled into my sleeper seat, a book in hand, half-lost in its world. Just as the train started, a staff member from the Indian Railways approached me and asked, “Are you using your entire seat? Could you share half of it with a lady who doesn’t have a reservation?” I paused for a moment. It was my seat, after all. But I wasn’t lying down or using it fully, and sharing it would not hurt. “Of course,” I said with a smile.

Later, when I talked about this moment with my family, my parents reminded me to stay cautious. They recounted incidents where passengers were looted by strangers offering them food, making them unconscious, and taking away their belongings. I was aware of these risks, and they were in the back of my mind.

Moments later, a woman approached and thanked me softly before sitting down and adjusting her luggage under the seat. Her face carried an unspoken heaviness, as if she was carrying the weight of the world. She made a phone call, speaking in a rushed, hushed tone. I didn’t mean to listen, but in the close quarters of a train, privacy is a luxury. She spoke of a fight with her husband, his drunken state, and her decision to leave. No ticket, no plan - just the urge to escape.

When the call ended, she turned to me and said, “Thank you for letting me sit. I rushed to the station without a ticket - I just needed to leave. The staff member helped me find a seat. I had a huge fight with my husband, and he was quite drunk, so I had to leave. I will get down at Surat station.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say. My mind was racing with words I wanted to offer her. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. But for some reason, I froze. The words stayed stuck in my throat. All I could manage was a simple, “I hope things get sorted out.”

She looked at me, almost as if she had already decided. “I am not going back there,” she said firmly. “I am going to get a divorce.” Her words hit me like a wave. I froze again, not because of her decision, but because of the weight of it - the finality, the courage it must have taken to say it out loud.

The Mirror

As I sat there, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said. I didn’t know her story fully, but somehow, I felt like I understood. We have all been there, haven’t we? Stuck in situations that we try to endure until one day, we just can’t anymore. At some point, we all reach our breaking point - the moment when staying feels more unbearable than leaving.

Her decision reminded me of my own moments of letting go. No, I was not in the same situation as hers, but I had experienced my own versions of holding on too long, of finally deciding to walk away.

It is strange how a stranger’s story can echo your own thoughts, isn’t it?

I still regret not being able to console her the way I wanted to. I wish I could have said more - offered her hope, reassurance, or even just a kind word. But maybe, just maybe, letting her sit next to me was enough. Maybe sharing a quiet space with someone who was not judging her or questioning her decisions was all she needed at that moment.

As the train rolled on, I realized the universe had answered my prayer. The magic was not in the greatness of the moment but in its simplicity. A shared seat. A conversation that lingered in my mind. A reflection that deepened my understanding of strength, resilience, and the power of letting go.

We often think miracles are supposed to be life-changing events, but sometimes, they are just moments that shift our perspective, connect us to others, and remind us of the shared threads in our stories.

For her, that journey was a step toward freedom. For me, it was a reminder of how even the smallest acts of kindness can create ripples - and how even a stranger’s story can leave a mark on your own.

Note: When it came to balancing my sense of security and being cautious about my belongings while helping her, my gut instincts said otherwise. Sometimes, people genuinely need your help. She needed mine, and perhaps that’s why she was sent along my path. Isn’t that how it is with all the people we encounter?