A special friend

I was limping along on my way to Jayanagar 9th block to draw some money from the State Bank of Mysore where I have a savings bank account. I was limping because I am a victim of arthritis in my right leg. Hoping to make the 2 km distance to the bank under my own steam I had come out without any cash in my pocket. Having covered about 20 meters and already panting like a marathon runner, I was suddenly brought up short by an autorickshaw coming from behind pulling up alongside.

“Hop in, sir,” said the driver. I took a good look at him. Around thirty or so, with an alert and enterprising look. “I have no intention to hop in, my man,” I told him. “For your kind information, I have come out without any money. So what’s the good of hopping in?” “I don't want any money, sir” said the fellow.

Perhaps he only wants to murder me, I thought. “Don’t be silly,” I admonished, “Why would you carry me for free? It’s not as if I were your grandfather or something. If you are hoping to drive me to an isolated spot and rob me as is the prevalent practice let me tell you that I have nothing worth robbing, not even a wrist watch, unless you would settle for the shirt. I am wearing,” said I, making a concession.
“I noticed that you were limping badly," he explained, "and since I am heading in your direction I thought I would give you a lift, that's all.” He sounded plausible. Besides, what would he gain by putting me out of circulation when I had made it clear that I was as poor as a church mouse?

“Well, on one condition.” I told him. “After dropping me at the SBM you will wait till I have drawn some money and paid you the fare.” “Nothing doing. I carry you for free or not at all” said the man. “You will at least share a cup of tea with me after I have finish my work at the bank.”

“It’s a deal,” agreed the man. The next moment I regretted what I had said. Suppose he played the good Samaritan role only till I had drawn cash from the bank and then robbed me and drove away hell-for-leather? Anyway there was no drawing back after I had committed myself. I drew a thousand rupees from the bank, and we were seated in the adjoining restaurant sipping tea when the driver began, “My own father was a victim of arthritis all through the latter half of his life. He is no more. Seeing you limping reminded me of my father. I wouldn’t have taken any fare from my own father, would I?”

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I am proud to make the acquaintance of a man who holds his father’s memory in such high esteem!” Today, that poor auto driver has entered my little circle of special friends.