LOVE, EMOTIONS AND MEMORIES

Kindness arises from unexpected places, and silence becomes the response, from where we expect self-esteem the most.

My friend recently experienced two conflicting incidents that reflect the current state of humanity in society. What shook her the most was that these behaviours came from different individuals at opposite ends of the social and professional spectrum.

The first incident occurred on a typical morning while she was dropping her son off at school. Amid heavy traffic, a rickshaw driver ran over her leg. Shocked and in pain, she shouted at him to stop. Instead of helping or showing remorse, he mocked her.

“Go to court if you want. I’ve got witnesses,” he said teasingly, then drove away without a trace of regret.

Later, she told me, her voice heavy with disappointment, “What are we teaching our children? What will my son think about mortality after seeing this?”

Her friends advised her to let it go, saying pursuing the matter would only cause more trouble. “Even the innocent will be mentally tortured when they step into the system,” they warned her. But she refused to stay silent. With quiet courage, she went to the police station—her first time in such a place—to file a complaint.

She was petrified. Confronting officials and dealing with a system many see as corrupt or dismissive was daunting. But to her surprise, the police officers were respectful and sensible. They listened, summoned the auto driver, and resolved the issue calmly. Recognizing the potential consequences, the driver sincerely apologized. The matter was settled.

“I received compassion from a place people fear,” she told me afterward. “I found humanity where I expected only denial.”

Back home, her 7-year-old son asked what happened at the police station. She explained everything. His eyes lit up. It was a moment—a quiet hope renewed. Through her bravery and a rare act of fairness in the system, he saw something positive in a world that often teaches children to expect the worst.

But life wasn’t done testing her faith in human kindness.

A few days later, she saw an orthopaedic surgeon for the same toe injury. The doctor confirmed a ligament tear and prescribed two weeks of rest. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he asked her to raise her hands, placed his hands on her shoulders, patted her back, and asked if she was feeling fine.

She was stunned. “I went in for a toe injury—why was he suddenly touching my upper body?” she wondered.

Later, she shared her reaction with me, dismissing it with sarcasm: “Maybe the doctor just had the urge to pat a girl. I hope he got some satisfaction from it.” But beneath her laughter, I sensed deep discomfort.

I couldn’t help but reflect—where have the morals of the educated gone? Those who wear white coats and take oaths to heal and protect—if they can’t uphold simple human boundaries, what confidence can we have in society?

One incident reminded her that goodness still exists—even within systems we fear. The other showed that misconduct can come silently, cloaked in status and education.

Humanity fades in the world we live in —not just in slums or streets, but sometimes in sterile, air-conditioned rooms as well, where children learn as much from acts of courage as from the silence that follows injustice.

It’s high time we dismiss these small acts of distress. Whether it’s a mocking remark from a driver or an inappropriate touch from a professional, every action matters. Every behavior shapes the next generation’s understanding of right and wrong.

Let’s raise our voice—not just for ourselves but for the world we are shaping for our children. Let’s show them that humanity still exists—only if we choose to protect it.