With a puzzled expression, I asked,

“Hey, didn’t I just show you the way. Are

you all right?”

“Huh? I haven’t even met you before! I just thought I’d ask for help because you seemed like a good person,” he replied.

Astound, an array of questions started chasing my mind. Is he planning to do something to me? Or is he just mentally ill?

As I was pondering upon this man’s intentions, my eyes fell on his shirt pocket where a few words had been roughly embroidered. I walked up a little closer and found the writing to be the address of a nearby location. My mother always stresses on the importance of optimism and I remembered her at that moment and felt like I had no choice but to help this person out. I apologized and volunteered to guide him to the location. Whilst walking, I pointed to his shirt pocket and asked him if it was his address. He glanced at the embroidery and then looked back at me with a rather blank expression. I concluded that he was forgetful.

I realised that my analysis of him was right when we reached the destination. A few people with anxious faces rushed towards us and hugged him. They were his family, and had been looking for him

the entire day. They thanked me for bringing their son back and I returned home feeling glad about the way my intuition had worked in my favour.

A few days after the incident, another situation confronted me in the same street. A couple was sitting down on the pavement, their expressions frail out of constant weeping. The woman was leaning on the man’s shoulder as he was trying to console her. With awkward steps, I approached them, “Are you guys okay?”

The couple slowly looked up at me.

The woman let out a gasp and explained, “Bainee, we got looted. Never trust a stranger.”

I was curious, and trying best to not seem very rude, I asked them what had happened. “A few months ago, I met a boy here. He had explained to me that he was new in town and asked if I could help him out. I thought I could be of some help and handed him my phone number,” said the woman, as she shed more tears from her already swollen eyes. “He used to call at times, asking for general information about the city. But one day he said he wanted to see me, and because he felt familiar from all the phone conversations we’d had, I agreed.”

She stopped to take a deep breath as her husband patted her back and held her closer. “I kept my husband in the shadows when I went to meet him. It was outside of a deserted building; his initial greeting turned into a violent tug at my bag. His right hand held a knife against my throat as he shuffled my bag with his left. As soon as he got his hands on my purse and my house keys, he let go of the bag, grabbed me by my waist and threatened to kill me if I didn’t tell him my home address. I did it out of sheer mortal fear,” she said. “He later went to my home, almost killed my husband and robbed us of our property.”

The woman broke into violent sobs again. Her husband looked up at me and explained, “We have been coming hoping to find this person, but have failed. My father, who’s been battling cancer for long, passed away today. Perhaps we could have saved him if all our money hadn’t been taken away by that evil for a man!”

The contrasts in this world never cease to surprise me. I’ve collected such different stories from the same street. The incident of the forgetful man who I trusted to help was without accidents, but nobody can guarantee that sort of luck all the time. The woman had trusted somebody, just like I had, but the consequence proved to be so different. For mere materialistic possession, people tend to forget that they are human. It’s like humanity has turned into just another word in the dictionary; it has lost its meaning altogether.

Dahal is a student at the Himalayan White House International College, Tinkune