This happened in the winter of 1928. I was then a teacher in Amroha, a small town in Western U.P. I went to Deoband for some work; I was scheduled to return the same day and therefore didn’t carry any luggage with me.

After finishing the work I boarded a Ghaziabad-bound train, where I had a connecting train to Amroha. Unfortunately, my train got delayed and I missed my connecting train. The next train for Amroha was at 11 in the night. I had no option but to wait at the station. I offered my Isha prayers at the platform and reclined on a bench. I was so tired that I couldn’t resist myself from sleeping. I was woken up by a station employee who enquired about my destination.

And when I informed him about my destination he showed me a train that was just leaving the station and said, “You have just missed your train”, I could feel the sympathy in his tone. “Now there are no trains to Amroha until next morning” he added. He also advised me to relax in the waiting room instead of waiting at the platform.

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It was 11 in the night; the temperature had dropped considerably, and after the short nap it felt even chiller. It was a long night; I would sit on a bench in the waiting room for a while, and would stroll a little after some time to keep myself warm. There was just a small tea stall at the station those days. The vendor had packed up long ago and was now sleeping beside his stall. I would wake him up after every short while and get a cup of tea from his samovar.

There were about 10 to 12 passengers inside the waiting room; they looked at me suspiciously as I had no luggage on me. It was a frustrating situation – the suspicion prevented the passengers from sleeping and for me their plight was a mental agony. I was not even in a position to explain them and clear my stand so that they can relax. I still and very clearly remember that this emotional anguish made me very upset but I had no option nor I had anything to combat the ever-increasing cold. I would sit on the bench, wander for a while and grab the insipid tea intermittently to pass the time.

At half pass two, a train from up-north probably from Dehradun, arrived and a couple of passengers entered into the waiting room. A Sikh teenager boy, who looked from an affluent family, came to my bench. It seemed that he returned from hilly region as he carried a large sleeping bag. He opened his sleeping bag and asked me, “Is there any place where I can get some milk? I missed my dinner tonight.”

“Wake that guy up!” I gestured towards the tea vendor and said, “He has got milk too.” He requested me to take care of his luggage while he went to fetch the milk. Soon he was back with a cup of milk and offered me to join him. I declined his generous offer politely and thanked him for this kind gesture.

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After finishing his milk he reclined on his bed. I noticed that he was constantly looking at me. I felt guilty that this poor lad also would not be able to sleep comfortably. After a few minutes the boy came to me and enquired, “Why are you sitting here in this chilly night without any blanket or warm cloth?” “Relax son!” I said, “I was on a day-long trip but accidentally missed my train and now there are no trains to Amroha till next morning.”

He quickly took out two blankets from his sleeping bag and spread one of them and said, “I’ll sleep on it and wrap the other and you can use my quilt.” I hesitated but he was persistent. I accepted his offer on a condition that he would sleep on his cozy quilt while I would use the blankets. “You are going to use my quilt”, he reiterated in a firm tone. I was still reluctant to use his fine quilt but gave up when he said, “I am not going to sleep until you use my quilt, I would rather prefer to stand here whole night.”

The quilt was very expensive and comfortable. My eyes welled up on the compassion of this little angel. Moved by his kindness, I was not able to sleep and just lay back in his cozy quilt whole night. We departed and took our respective trains in the morning. I was so indebted and overwhelmed that I even forgot to take down his address, something that I still regret. I never met this boy again and I have no clue as how and where he is.

I still get emotional when I recall this event and tears roll down my cheeks. I hope that I would meet him again so that I can return his kindness in some way.

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– By Maulana Muhamad Manzoor Nomani (RA)

Ex-editor – Alfurqan monthly, Lucknow

(Translated by Abdul Aziz)

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