Random acts of grace

My family and I recently took a vacation at a seaside resort in Goa. While lazing on the smooth sands in the evening and enjoying the magic of the sun setting, its dazzling crimson rays playing with splendour over the dancing waves of the sea, I witnessed another heart-warming beauty of human kindness.

Not far from me sat an octogenarian couple in their respective wheelchairs. Their eyes sparkled as they watched youngsters play with the waves with gay abandon.

The elderly soon attracted a buoyant group of four girls in their early teens who offered to escort them to the soothing splash of the waves. The sportive seniors gratefully agreed, whereupon the smiling foursome slowly guided the couple carefully to knee-deep waters enabling them to savour the blissful feel of the sea. The overjoyed couple let themselves go, relishing the thrill of keeping their balance while holding each other’s hands as the receding waves swept the sand beneath their feet.

They mingled with the young, splashing around gleefully, totally oblivious to their age and frail physique.

As I stood transfixed watching this ennobling scenario, the couple was escorted back to their wheelchairs, their faces beaming. Seating them safely on their respective chairs, the girls hugged the couple and planted kisses on their cheeks before flying off to meet the waves, as the grateful duo watched them.

Though this is one of several humane acts I have witnessed in the course of my life reflecting the power of compassion towards fellow beings, my thoughts flew back to a similar instance that is indelibly etched in my mind for its sheer degree of human grace:

When I was in primary school, my classmate Seena, the most brilliant and lively among us, was the cynosure of all eyes. Before the teacher entered our class, he would regale us by accurately imitating the mannerisms and intonations of the particular subject teacher with amazing ease. He was at his best while playing the role of Kannada teacher.

The year passed, and when the school reopened after the summer holidays, Seena’s absence was conspicuous. We were in for a rude shock when we learned that he was bed-ridden, with the dreaded cancer! But nothing could take away his indomitable spirit, and even in that condition, he expressed his desire to play the role of his favourite Kannada teacher.

When this was conveyed to our headmaster, he arranged to get Seena to our class, fully dressed in a tucked-in dhoti, a close-collared coat, and a Mysore turban, with strict instructions for us to obey the ‘teacher’ and allow him full liberty to fulfil his desire.

Seena performed his last act with great relish and aplomb as we watched him in melancholic silence, which moved the Kannada teacher—who himself was present along with us—to tears. “Class, silence please!” were his last words before he fell silent himself.