Kindness is Contagious

Kindness is Contagious

This is not just an anecdote but an incident that left me with so many unanswered questions. On my way back from school, I stopped by an ATM to withdraw money for personal needs. Just as I was inserting my card into the machine, a lady barged in, which irritated me. She did not appear to be a Malayali, was not dressed in a saree, or any typical outfit of a Keralite. She was middle-aged, had a shawl over her head, and looked shabby. My instincts told me she might be from some other part of the country or possibly even Bengali. I told her in Hindi to step out of the room and come in only when I was finished. I was rather stern in my voice, and she obeyed instantly. My transaction took only two minutes, and when I came out, I found the lady helplessly looking at me. To my surprise, she spoke to me in Malayalam, though not in the Trivandrum slang or any other dialect I was used to. Having married in North Kerala, I am familiar with the Calicut and Kannur slang as well, but her dialect was neither of those.

She then made her request: “Can you please take money for me using this card?” She held her card toward me. I didn’t find anything suspicious in her request, so I agreed. After all, I was using her card, not my own. We went inside, and I began typing in the details after inserting her card, then asked her to enter her PIN. In response, she told me her PIN and said, "You can type it in." For a moment, I thought about how vulnerable people can be when they lack basic life skills. I also made sure to remind her not to share her PIN with anyone. I typed in the PIN and withdrew the money she asked for—Rs. 1000. But the ATM displayed the message, “Insufficient balance.” Her face dropped when she saw this. She turned back and called a man who was waiting outside. He also came in. I was a bit taken aback. Was this some elaborate scheme by clever criminals to steal my money? Still, I asked the woman, “Shall we try with ₹500?” They both agreed, so I went through the process again—only to receive the same message: Insufficient balance.

This time, I saw her head drop—not in confusion, but in despair and shame—like a stranger who had just discovered they had no money. The man said, “Come, we will go.” Without a word, they took the card from me and started walking. I truly felt the urge to help them, but my mind held me back. It reminded me of past experiences where I had been betrayed—not just once or twice, but many times. Some had approached me with stories of sick family members, while others claimed they needed money because they had forgotten their wallet. Each time, I felt terrible when I realized I had been deceived. I had promised myself that I would no longer be an easy target. But this time... was it truly a genuine case?

The couple had walked ahead of me, and I saw them stop in front of a fruit stall. I was almost certain the woman had no money. As I passed by, my mind kept racing with thoughts: They never asked me for money, so they had no intention of deceiving me. Why not buy something for them? That way, there’s no question of being fooled again.

I turned back, approached the stall, and told her to get whatever she wanted, in addition to the bananas. At first, she was hesitant—perhaps unwilling to accept charity—but eventually, she gave in. She mentioned that the man with her was unwell and that they were on their way to the hospital. Without even a word of thanks, she simply walked away, as if trying to disappear from the moment.

The shopkeeper asked if I knew them. I replied that I had just met them and that they seemed helpless. He nodded and said, "That man is unwell; they’re heading to the hospital for admission." The total bill came to ₹105, but I didn’t have a ₹5 coin. The shopkeeper simply said, “Never mind.” He understood that I was trying to help and chose to contribute in his own way. Yes, kindness is often contagious…

A question rushed into my mind as I left the shop: If you meet a hundred people and all of them turn out to be fake, is it necessary that the hundred-and-first person you meet is also fake?