ALTRUISTIC #BeingGandhi

#BeingGandhi

It was the end of yet another semester exam.

I was overjoyed! Examination phases are never really enthralling for many. Especially me.

I reached my hostel room and began to rummage through my table cupboard to rid of all my old notebooks, newspapers and loose sheets on which I religiously practiced all the cumbersome engineering derivations, equations and my not so famous doodles.

It amounted to quite a handsome collection. I could fetch at least a hundred rupees with it. Or so, I thought.

The next day, I waited for the kabadi wala, the scrap dealer who frequently visited our hostel to collect anything for recycling.

I knew he would come by sooner or later.  He was well aware that another semester had ended and that he could collect an ample amount of old books and newspapers.

He was an old man. He didn't talk much. He smiled seldom. Yet his old, wrinkled face wore the kindest expression.

I often saw my hostel-mates bargaining, trying to get a good deal from him.

He was sitting outside our hostel visitor's room as usual. A weighing scale, an empty jute sack and some measuring weights rested beside him.

Students were leaving the hostel one after another for the holidays.

Some were picked up by their parents. Some took off by themselves in a cab or auto.

The kabadi wala sat and watched them.

Looking at his empty jute sack, I assumed that he hadn't got any customers yet.

I went up to him.

"How much for one kilo of old notebooks and newspapers?" I asked.

"₹15." He replied.

"Do you even take old magazines?"

"That would be for ₹5." He answered.

"Okay. Please wait." I said as I trotted back to my hostel room to get my old notebooks and newspapers.
__________

"It's summing up to ₹86" He said after weighing and pricing the decrepit pages I had handed over to him.

He took out his old, worn out wallet. One could hardly guess that it used to be a brown faux leather wallet. What was left was just the off-white inside cloth.

"Do you have change?" He said handing over to me a hundred rupee note.

"It's alright. You keep it." I said returning the hundred rupee note to him.

He looked at me, confused.

For a student like me, I knew I could very well do something with that money. My taxi fare, a new notebook or the like.

But, I knew it could be of better help to the kabadi wala. It could be his dinner. Or his child's tuition fee. Anything.

He didn't thank me verbally. But his eyes did. They smiled. They were happy.

I was content to see the joy on our kabadi wala's face.

My #BeingGandhi moment was just a gentle gesture to someone. And it's the same for many too.

But in a gentle way, we shake the world.

Gandhi did it too.