%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| I was seated in my seat on the flight, heading to Delhi—a journey of around 6 hours. I planned to spend the time reading a good book and getting an hour of sleep. Just before takeoff, around 10 soldiers came and sat around me, filling the nearby seats. Thinking it would be interesting, I asked the soldier next to me, “Where are you headed?” “To Agra, sir! We have two weeks of training there, and then we’ll be sent on an operation,” he replied. An hour passed. An announcement was made: “Lunch is available for purchase for those who wish to buy.” I thought to myself—still a long way to go, maybe I should eat. I reached for my wallet to book my meal when I overheard a conversation. “Shall we also get lunch?” one of the soldiers asked. “No, it's too expensive here. Let’s eat at a regular hotel once we land,” another replied. “Alright.” I walked up to the flight attendant and said, “Please give lunch to all of them,” and paid for everyone’s meal. Tears welled up in her eyes. “My younger brother is posted in Kargil, sir. It feels like you’re feeding him. Thank you,” she said, bowing in gratitude. That moment touched me deeply. I returned to my seat. Within half an hour, all of them received their lunch boxes. After finishing my meal, I headed to the restroom at the back of the plane. An elderly gentleman came from a rear seat. “I noticed everything. You deserve appreciation,” he said, extending his hand. “I’d like to be part of your good deed,” he added, slipping a ₹500 note into my hand. I came back to my seat. Half an hour later, the flight’s pilot walked over, scanning seat numbers until he found mine. He smiled and said, “I’d like to shake your hand.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up. As he shook my hand, he said, “I was once a fighter pilot. Back then, someone just like you bought me a meal. I never forgot that—it was a symbol of love. What you did brought back that memory.” All the passengers clapped. I felt a little shy. I didn’t do it for praise—I simply did a good deed. I walked a bit toward the front of the plane. A young man, about 18, shook my hand and slipped a note into my palm. The journey came to an end. As I waited near the door to exit, a man silently placed something in my pocket and walked off. Another note. As I stepped out of the plane, the soldiers were all gathered in one place. I rushed over, pulled out all the notes fellow passengers had given me, and handed them to the soldiers. “Use this for food or anything else before you reach your training site. What we give is nothing compared to the protection you provide us. Thank you for what you do for our nation. May God bless you and your families,” I said, eyes slightly wet. Those ten soldiers were now carrying with them the love of an entire flight. As I got into my car, I silently prayed, “Lord, please watch over these brave souls who are ready to give their lives for this country.” A soldier is like a blank cheque made payable to India, redeemable for any amount, up to and including their life. So many still don’t understand their greatness. Respecting the sons of Mother India is the same as respecting ourselves. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
