<p>There I was standing at the zebra crossing debating whether I had enough time to dash across the road before the lights turned red. I am no P T Usha. Realising that discretion is the better part of valour, I stayed put. Just as well because the lights did turn red.<br /><br /> A cop, who happened to be stationed there, asked me why I hadn’t crossed over. Truthfully, I explained that it was cowardice. It was better to be safe than sorry. He reacted rather sharply to my confession. “Cowardice? No, madam, you exercised caution. I wish there were more pedestrians like you. There would be fewer accidents then.” <br /><br />To say I was taken aback would be putting it mildly, in fact, an understatement. Compliments don’t come my way often (though criticism does). It was high praise indeed from a quarter that is better known for its aggressive tactics. The much-maligned police force shot up several notches in my estimation.<br /><br />There is the woman who stops outside my gates and cries out “Soppu” every day. Her basket is full of tender, farm-fresh, healthy greens and the temptation to buy is irresistible. She is happy to sell me her stuff. If I am out of town, she misses me and welcomes me so warmly that I feel like going away again. <br /><br />“It’s ages since I saw you. Is everything okay? How was Dasara ?” (or whichever festive season it happened to be) One day, after I had collected what I needed, I paid her and turned to go in. “Wait!” she called. “Take this.” She shoved a small bunch of aromatic coriander leaves into my hands. I looked at her questioningly.<br /><br /> “This is something extra for you,” she added. I couldn’t figure out why I was the recipient of this bonanza. <br /><br />(Coriander leaves, during that time, was being sold at Rs 20 a bunch.) I shot her a puzzled look. “You never bargain with me.” I was absurdly pleased. Big retail shops and high-end outlets have a system of reward points for extravagant spending. But this generous gesture, from a small vendor, was really touching.<br /><br />At a gathering, my doctor, quite casually mentioned that I was the best patient he’d ever had. You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather when I heard it. He is an exacting person. <br /><br />For long months, I had followed his instructions to the letter — for a skin problem on my foot. In all that time, never had I been commended for the pains I had taken. It was worth waiting 10 years for this rare honour!</p>
<p>There I was standing at the zebra crossing debating whether I had enough time to dash across the road before the lights turned red. I am no P T Usha. Realising that discretion is the better part of valour, I stayed put. Just as well because the lights did turn red.<br /><br /> A cop, who happened to be stationed there, asked me why I hadn’t crossed over. Truthfully, I explained that it was cowardice. It was better to be safe than sorry. He reacted rather sharply to my confession. “Cowardice? No, madam, you exercised caution. I wish there were more pedestrians like you. There would be fewer accidents then.” <br /><br />To say I was taken aback would be putting it mildly, in fact, an understatement. Compliments don’t come my way often (though criticism does). It was high praise indeed from a quarter that is better known for its aggressive tactics. The much-maligned police force shot up several notches in my estimation.<br /><br />There is the woman who stops outside my gates and cries out “Soppu” every day. Her basket is full of tender, farm-fresh, healthy greens and the temptation to buy is irresistible. She is happy to sell me her stuff. If I am out of town, she misses me and welcomes me so warmly that I feel like going away again. <br /><br />“It’s ages since I saw you. Is everything okay? How was Dasara ?” (or whichever festive season it happened to be) One day, after I had collected what I needed, I paid her and turned to go in. “Wait!” she called. “Take this.” She shoved a small bunch of aromatic coriander leaves into my hands. I looked at her questioningly.<br /><br /> “This is something extra for you,” she added. I couldn’t figure out why I was the recipient of this bonanza. <br /><br />(Coriander leaves, during that time, was being sold at Rs 20 a bunch.) I shot her a puzzled look. “You never bargain with me.” I was absurdly pleased. Big retail shops and high-end outlets have a system of reward points for extravagant spending. But this generous gesture, from a small vendor, was really touching.<br /><br />At a gathering, my doctor, quite casually mentioned that I was the best patient he’d ever had. You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather when I heard it. He is an exacting person. <br /><br />For long months, I had followed his instructions to the letter — for a skin problem on my foot. In all that time, never had I been commended for the pains I had taken. It was worth waiting 10 years for this rare honour!</p>
