Taking pity on the elderly woman walking in the heat, the driver stopped to give her a ride, but just ten minutes later, something frightening nearly struck him…
One blistering afternoon, the asphalt shimmered like fire under the merciless sun. Manoj, a truck driver hauling cargo from Delhi to his hometown in Uttar Pradesh, had the air conditioning blasting, yet the cabin still felt stifling.
On the nearly empty NH44 highway, only the hum of the engine and the faint whistle of air through the window seals accompanied him.
Suddenly, across the roadside, Manoj spotted a frail woman in her seventies, her bent back hidden beneath the loose end of a faded sari, dragging along a heavy jute sack. Each step looked painful.
He braked and pulled over:
– Grandma, it is scorching hot, why walk alone? Come rest in my truck, I’ll give you a lift.
The woman hesitated, then nodded, gratitude glowing in her eyes. Manoj stepped out and helped her into the cabin. The rush of cool air made her sigh with relief.
As the wheels turned again, she explained that she had left an intercity bus near Mathura, dropped five kilometres from her village. Not wanting to trouble anyone, she decided to walk. Manoj listened quietly, feeling good for lending a hand.
Barely ten minutes later, crossing a desolate stretch, the old woman sniffed the air and muttered:
– Son, I smell something burning… like melting wire or rubber.
Startled, Manoj paused. Though used to engine oil, this scent was different. He slowed, parked, and stepped out.
To his sh0ck, thin smoke curled from the left rear wheel. The tyre was swelling oddly, rubber blistered with heat – on the verge of bursting. Worse still, an electric cable had scraped bare against the frame, its casing charred, close to sparking.
Had she not war:ned him, Manoj might have continued toward the ghat, where steep turns awaited. A blown tyre or fire there could have been disastrous.
His heart pounded as she sighed in relief:
– Thank heaven you caught it in time. Who knows what might have happened.
The old woman smiled gently:
– My nose is old, but it notices strange smells quickly.
Luckily, a garage lay nearby. Manoj called for help. While waiting, she offered him a water bottle from her sack:
– Drink, son. The heat can drain your strength fast.
He accepted gratefully, humbled. What he thought was a simple kindness had instead saved his life.
An hour later, the tyre was fixed, wires replaced, and checks complete. Manoj dropped her at the village entrance. Before leaving, she pressed a jute bag into his hands, filled with custard apples:
– Homegrown, not much, but take them. It makes me happy.
Though he tried refusing, her insistence won. Smiling warmly, he accepted.
That evening, rolling again on NH44, her words echoed in his mind:
– Sometimes, helping others means saving yourself.
And Manoj knew that from then on, he would never pass by anyone in need.
