The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the bustling streets of Bangalore, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. I stood at the crowded bus stand, adjusting my gray hoodie to keep the morning chill at bay. With my headphones on, I was lost in my own world, blocking out the noise of honking vehicles and chattering commuters.
I glanced at my phone, checking messages from my friend. "Meet you at 8?" one message read. I quickly typed a reply: "Sure, see you then!"
My reflection in the phone screen showed me my dark hair falling in loose strands around my face, but I barely noticed it as I scanned the area out of habit. The morning rush was starting, and I was just another face in the crowd. My backpack, slung over one shoulder, felt comfortably familiar.
Suddenly, a loud screech interrupted my music, and I looked up to see a small sedan pulling over to the side of the road. Steam billowed from under its hood, and a worried-looking man jumped out, rushing to the passenger side.
"Excuse me, please! Can anyone help?" he called out desperately.
I pulled off my headphones, my curiosity piqued. Through the car window, I could see a woman in the passenger seat, her face pale and eyes closed.
I hurried over to the man. "What's wrong?" I asked, feeling a sense of urgency in the air.
"My mother… she's unwell. We were on our way to the hospital, but the car broke down," he explained, his voice trembling with anxiety.
"Let's get her to a hospital right away. There's one nearby, I can call a cab," I offered, quickly pulling out my phone to arrange a ride.
While waiting for the cab, I crouched down next to the woman, speaking softly to her. "Ma'am, can you hear me? We're getting help, just hang in there," I said, gently holding her hand.
The woman opened her eyes slightly and gave a weak nod. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Within minutes, the cab arrived. Together, the man and I carefully helped the woman into the backseat. I turned to the man. "I'll come with you. She might need extra support."
"Thank you so much," he replied, his relief evident in his eyes. "I don't know what I would have done without your help."
As the cab sped towards the hospital, I spoke softly to the woman, offering words of comfort. "We're almost there. Just hang in there, okay?"
The man, sitting beside his wife, looked at me gratefully. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Devika," I replied with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, she'll be fine."
When we reached the hospital, we quickly assisted the woman inside, where medical staff took over. The bustling emergency room was a flurry of activity, but the staff moved efficiently to get the woman the care she needed.
The man turned to me once more, gratitude etched across his face. "You were like an angel sent to us. How can I ever thank you?"
I shook my head with a small smile. "Just take care of her. That's thanks enough."
As I watched the man and his mother being attended to, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Helping someone in need was more rewarding than any message on my phone could ever be.
I stood at the entrance, watching as the doctors attended to the woman we had just brought in. The man beside me, his face etched with worry, seemed lost in thought. The doctor emerged from the emergency room, clipboard in hand, and gave a solemn nod.
"She needs to be hospitalized for at least three days. It's nothing too serious, but she needs rest and proper care," the doctor explained calmly.
The man let out a heavy sigh of relief, but I noticed the weariness in his eyes. "Thank you, doctor," he said quietly.
I watched as he pulled out his phone, fumbling with it. I noticed how little battery he had left—just a sliver of red on the screen. He was scrolling through his contacts, probably trying to arrange funds or inform someone of the situation. But something in his demeanor told me that things weren't as simple as that.
"You're not from around here, are you?" I asked gently, breaking the silence.
He looked up, startled, and nodded. "No, we're not. We came here for a family function. I don't know anyone in the city… and now this…" His voice trailed off, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
"Don't worry," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "I can help. What do you need? Any essentials for your mother or maybe something to eat?"
His eyes filled with gratitude, but he hesitated. "I… I don't want to trouble you."
"It's no trouble at all. You need to be here with her," I insisted. "I'll get whatever you need."
After a moment, he nodded, finally giving in. "Thank you… We didn't bring much with us. If you could just get some basics—like clothes and toiletries for her—and maybe some food. I haven't eaten since last night," he admitted with a small, tired smile.
"Consider it done," I said, determined. "I'll be back soon."
Leaving the hospital, I felt a sense of urgency. I couldn't imagine what they were going through—new city, no support system, and now this emergency. I made my way to a nearby store, mentally ticking off a list in my head. Clothes, toiletries, snacks… I wanted to make sure they had everything they might need, at least for the first day.
At the store, I picked up a few basic items: a comfortable change of clothes for the woman, some toiletries, and a blanket in case the hospital room was too cold. Then I headed to a small eatery and ordered some fresh idlis, chutney, and hot tea, something that would hopefully bring some comfort.
As I walked back to the hospital, carrying the bags. When I reached the hospital, I found the man pacing outside the room, still trying to make calls on his nearly dead phone.
"I got everything," I said, handing him the bags. "And some food too. You need to eat."
He took the bags with both hands, his eyes misty with gratitude. "You didn't have to do all this, but… thank you. Really, thank you."
"It's nothing," I replied with a smile. "You just focus on your mother. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."
As I leaned against the wall, feeling content after helping them, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The sound jolted me back to reality. I pulled it out and saw the name flashing on the screen—my friend from class.
"Devika, where are you? The lecture's about to start!" her voice came through urgently.
I glanced at the time and cursed under my breath. I was supposed to be in class by now, but with everything that had happened, I had completely lost track of time.
"I know, I'm sorry," I replied quickly, trying to explain without going into too much detail. "Something came up, and I'm at the hospital. I'll be late, but I'll catch up with the notes later."
"Hospital? Are you okay?" she asked, concerned about replacing her urgency.
"I'm fine," I reassured her. "I just had to help someone. I'll tell you about it later. Go ahead and save me a seat if you can."
"Alright, just get here soon," she said before hanging up.
I pocketed my phone, taking a deep breath. The classroom was calling, but I couldn't shake the feeling that what I had just done mattered more today. I took one last look at the hospital room where the mother was, hoping they would be okay.
I wanted to tell the man that I had to leave, that I was already running late for my class. But when I peeked inside, I realized he wasn't there. He must have gone to check on something, or maybe to speak with the doctors. His mother was resting peacefully, her breathing steady now.
I bit my lip, unsure of what to do. I didn't want to just disappear without saying anything, but I also didn't want to disturb her. She needed rest, and the last thing she needed was me hovering around.
With a soft sigh, I decided to leave. I placed the remaining items—some extra food and a small note with my number—on the nearby table. The note read: If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. Wishing you both a speedy recovery.
I took one last look at the room, hoping that they would be okay in this unfamiliar city. Then, I quietly slipped out of the hospital, blending back into the busy streets outside. The city was fully awake now, and as I hurried toward my class,
Then, with a final glance at my watch, I headed out, promising myself I'd make it to the next class—better late than never.
*****