4 days ago
Kindness Amid Hardship
Society
Usha Ajithkumar
3 minutes ago
Sometimes, the people who help us the most are those we've never met before and may never meet again – but their goodness stays with us forever.
I was a bold, independent and professionally successful woman in my 30s, born and raised in Mumbai, thriving in its fast-paced, liberating environment. Little did I know that my first international flight – to Dammam, Saudi Arabia – would be the most life-altering journey of my life. I was newly married and armed with a working visa for an international school, hoping to finally live with my husband, who held a separate work visa.
However, what awaited me was a cultural and emotional shock. The restrictive lifestyle imposed on women was suffocating. The mandatory black cloak (abaya), the limited recreational avenues, the requirement of a male guardian to step outside, and the starkly curtailed social life left me feeling like a bird trapped in a cage. Worse still, I encountered deeply rooted gender, religious and racial discrimination that further complicated my stay.
Things took a turn for the worse when my husband's sponsor suffered business losses and, in an act of coercion, demanded a ransom to release his passport. Unable to pay, my husband was arrested under false charges of fund misappropriation filed by his employer. Ironically, though slavery was officially abolished in 1962 by King Faisal, the exploitation of migrant workers in Saudi Arabia remain appallingly similar to bonded labour.
Nine months pregnant and desperate, I wrote a heartfelt letter to the Indian embassy seeking help. To my amazement, three Indian social workers – a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim – responded promptly. Only Mr Mohammed, the Muslim social worker, was allowed to enter the police station due to his religion and command over Arabic.
Soon after, I was asked to vacate the sponsor-provided accommodation. The local Malayali community was sympathetic, but housing me required permission from their respective sponsors – a bureaucratic impossibility. Without hesitation, Mr Mohammed offered me shelter in his own home, where he lived with his wife and six children. With no other option, I trusted this complete stranger and followed him, clutching a small bag of clothes and hope.
What followed felt almost surreal. His wife and children welcomed me warmly, offering a private room, food, emotional support and even accompanying me to the gynaecologist when I experienced pain. Mr Mohammed stayed in touch with my anxious family in Mumbai and comforted them regularly.
This stranger, in a strange land, became my saviour. With his support, I gathered evidence of my husband's innocence and filed a legal petition. As my delivery date neared, I handed him the power of attorney and flew back to India, vowing never to return.
With relentless efforts from Mr Mohammed and the embassy team, a lawyer was hired, and justice was finally served – my husband was exonerated and even received compensation for unlawful detention.
This traumatic experience ignited a spark in me. Words like "human rights", "advocacy," and "NGO" were no longer just terms – I resolved to dive deeper. Today, I hold a master's degree in human rights, a PhD in child rights and a law degree. And yet, theory rarely matches practice. Empowerment through education is vital, but so is the support of a compassionate stranger when navigating an alien world.
Mr Mohammed's kindness left an indelible mark on my soul. Even today, I remember and pray for his family with immense gratitude. Sometimes, the people who help us the most are those we've never met before and may never meet again – but their goodness stays with us forever.
I returned home broken, but I came back wiser – with a deeper understanding of pain, resilience and the power of kindness. In the darkest chapters of our lives, even a single act of compassion can illuminate the path ahead. And because of that one man's courage and empathy, I found the strength to face all future hardships and rebuild my life.
In the end, it's not caste, religion, race or gender that define us – but our humanity. The very land that brought us injustice also gifted us a messiah in Mr Mohammed.
Dr Usha Ajithkumar is currently working as a professor and head of the Department of Education at a university.
We've grown up hearing that 'it's the small things' that matter. That's true, of course, but it's also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn't take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.
And now we're looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers' kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@ in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.
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