Why had she
made a plea for us to accept her gift? Because, by accepting the kindness of
strangers, the recipient gives back the greater gift of trust? Bunny had taken
the apple. And by doing so, had perhaps given back something in exchange. A
belief in our common humanness, a mutual recognition that the person who
receives is also a giver.
A
simple thought to remember, particularly when we in India are -- at long last --
preparing to reach out to those of us who all their lives have known only hunger
and poverty. Think of what they might be waiting to give us. Not gratitude,
never that. But perhaps a mirror -- flat, hard and unsentimental -- in which we
see ourselves, as we might have been, as we might be one day. The gift of
ourselves for the price of a toffee apple? What better bargain in the world. But
why does it take wars, or volcanoes, for us to find that out? -- Jug Suraiya
By Jug Suraiya
As
global aviation limps back to normal after being rudely interrupted by an
erupting volcano, stories pour in about people who were stranded, far from home,
by Eyjafjallajokull blowing its stack. While some of these stories are about
travellers exploited by unscrupulous hoteliers and others who took advantage of
the situation, many more are about the kindness that people often show to
strangers. Having briefly been refugees ourselves, many years ago, Bunny and I
can attest to this kindness of strangers.
In 1973,
Bunny and i were on a six-week tour of Western Europe. Our travel bible was
Arthur Frommer's Europe on Five Dollars a Day, and we were going to stick to
that budget, despite friends and family repeatedly telling us it couldn't be
done. We were determined to prove them wrong. And we almost
did.
We
travelled by coach and train, through France, Italy, Switzerland, Austria. Our
last destination in Europe was Munich, from where we were to take a Syrian Arab
Airline flight to Delhi. The two one-way cut-price tickets had been bought in
London.
To keep
within our budget we often skipped meals: a missed lunch paid for admission to
an art gallery or museum. Food could come later; Picasso, or Rembrandt,
couldn't. By the time we reached Munich, both of us were half-starved. And in
Munich a bombshell awaited us. Unknown to us on our travels, an Arab-Israeli war
had taken place, as sudden, swift and fierce as a desert storm. Syrian Airlines'
entire fleet of three planes had been damaged or was ferrying wounded Arab
troops back from the front. As the airline was not an IATA member, no other
carrier would fly us. In Munich we demanded a refund on our tickets. We were
told we'd have to go to London for the refund. Our family in India wanted to pay
our airfare home, but RBI rules wouldn't permit it.
Money
fast running out, we were stuck in Munich, one of the most costly cities in the
world. We lived on a diet of rejected supermarket chocolate, the cheapest food
available. Eventually, all our money exhausted, we had to go to the Indian
consulate and apply for repatriation. Declaring ourselves destitute we had our
passports defaced in front of us and were issued one-time travel warrants,
normally reserved for escorted criminals. Air India flew us to Delhi. At the
airport i wanted to kneel and kiss the ground. We were home. But one memory of
Munich we'll never forget.
Waking
past a street fair one day, Bunny had stopped before a woman selling toffee
apples. The woman had smiled and held out two apples. Bunny had shaken her head,
held up one finger; we could afford only one apple. The woman seemed to intuit
our plight. She accepted money for one apple. Then she'd held out the second
apple, indicating it was free. Bunny had hesitated. Hunger is bitter; pride is
even more bitter to swallow: Bitte, the woman had said. Please. Please? Why had
she made a plea for us to accept her gift? Because, by accepting the kindness of
strangers, the recipient gives back the greater gift of trust? Bunny had taken
the apple. And by doing so, had perhaps given back something in exchange. A
belief in our common humanness, a mutual recognition that the person who
receives is also a giver.
A simple
thought to remember, particularly when we in India are -- at long last --
preparing to reach out to those of us who all their lives have known only hunger
and poverty. Think of what they might be waiting to give us. Not gratitude,
never that. But perhaps a mirror -- flat, hard and unsentimental -- in which we
see ourselves, as we might have been, as we might be one day. The gift of
ourselves for the price of a toffee apple? What better bargain in the world. But
why does it take wars, or volcanoes, for us to find that out?
Source: The Times of India, New Delhi
2:41 AM
Sultan Shahin
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