Thanks for that narration Luis Vas. Bombay has always been a city that can surprise you when you least expect it, like it did to newcomer Suvendu Roy.
But for those who were born and lived in the city for more than a few years, it would be difficult not to have experienced the generosity of Mumbaikars both collective and individual. It would take more than one post to describe that effervescent quality but here are two instances of my own. My mother when she decided to live in a seniors facility, chose one that is run by Catholic nuns of a medical order in Jogeshwari, a western suburb of the city. The area around the St Joseph's Home for the Elderly is populated mostly by Gujaratis. They will come on weekends and even weekdays and bring their delicious khamand-dokras, patras, lilva kachoris, their kandvis and their tasty Gujju meals. They come un-ostentatiously, and consider it a favor that the nuns accept their food on behalf of the residents, rather than the favor the other way around. On their feast days they will out do themselves. After they go to their temples, they will come to the Home and give to the residents as if they are giving to their own parents. Even the neighborhood Lions Clubs take every opportunity to organize programs and events that make the residents happy and give them a much needed break from the usual atmosphere of the Home. Never once do the generous Gujaratis consider that the residents are Catholic and Goan and they Gujarati and Hindu. My mum was a nurse and having lived and practised nursing in Bombay for long, knew most of the eminent specialists of the time. When relatives and people referred by other people in Goa and elsewhere, came to mum and asked her to help them get the best treatment notwithstanding their limited resources, mum would take them to these doctors and then mention to them that these people could not pay much. In those days their consultation fee used to a hundred rupees. After that it was no further expense. Since these specialists were attached as honoraries to the Govt Hospitals they would get operated there for free and in addition get the best drugs and treatment since their were Dr. XXX's patients. When mum would ask how much they should pay, the generous doctors would say whatever they are able to give. Often that would be a ten rupee note handed in an envelope to the secretary. It was a custom for the secretary never to tell the doctor what was given and the doctor even if he knew, would never treat that patient any different. Bombay is a city different from any other. Once not too long ago, there was a bond that held Mumbaikars together. It was the understanding that they had all come to the city for a better life and that each one's struggles were no different from the other. Perhaps in intensity but not in type. There was an intense human bond on a one-to-one level. Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Parsi or Jew was for your own home and your own community. On a public level that mattered little. They were all from one God. I know that having become much richer now, Bombay has changed. But every now and then, as with your Mr Sandeep story, the old Bombay refuses to die. Roland. On Sun, Jun 28, 2009 at 7:08 AM, Luis Vas<luissr...@gmail.com> wrote: > Hope you have this experience one day > *Suvendu Roy of Titan Industries shares his inspirational encounter with a** > **rickshaw driver in Mumbai:* > My wife and I were struck with awe. The man was a HERO! A hero who deserves > all our respect. Our journey came to an end; 45 minutes of a lesson in > humility, selflessness, and of a hero-worshipping Mumbai, my temporary home. > We disembarked, and all I could do was to pay him a tip that would hardly > cover > a free ride for a blind man.* > > *I hope, one day, you too have a chance to meet Mr Sandeep in his auto > rickshaw: MH-02-Z-8508.* >