It was a Saturday. Weekend rush. I was going to Shivamogga to write a promotion exam. Honestly, I wasn’t prepared. There was no way I could top the exam. The only way it would end was me tanking it.
(Side note: Top the exam, tank the exam — rhyme is important.)
Having said that, the exam was just a decoy for me to watch The Villain movie. I love Shivanna. I love Kiccha Sudeep. And I greatly admire Prem as a director. Triple Dhamaka. That alone was reason enough.
So even inside the exam hall, I was humming “Endu Ninna Noduve” — Dr. Rajkumar song, Eradu Kanasu or Premada Kanike, not sure. The point is, my mind was already in the theatre. After the exam, we slid into an auto and went straight to the movie. I genuinely enjoyed it.
Two days later, the internet started trolling the movie like anything — almost on Morbius level (which is high praise, coded in sarcasm). I casually wondered, did we even watch the same movie?
It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.
And while returning from the movie, something happened on the bus.
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This was a non-stop KSRTC bus — Shivamogga to Tarikere. Recently, KSRTC removed conductors on some routes. The driver collects cash, issues tickets, and once the bus is full, it starts.
I got on the bus and was standing near the door. The driver was issuing tickets. I was holding the overhead pole with one hand, wallet and coins in the other, phone half-misplaced in my shirt pocket, and playing a timed chess game in between. Peak multi-tasking stupidity.
Suddenly, the bus jerked. The gear stuck and released fast. My wallet fell. I managed to grab some coins, but the wallet dropped. The driver asked if I was okay. I said yes, picked up the wallet, and rushed toward a seat because — chess clock was ticking.
Then a girl sitting in the front seat stopped me and handed me two ₹2 coins.
Instantly, my mind judged the situation: What is she thinking? Does she think I’m homeless? Am I collecting alms?
But the truth was simple. Those coins had fallen earlier. She picked them up and returned them.
She could’ve kept them. Nobody would’ve noticed. But she didn’t.
And that’s when it hit me — I wasn’t being judged. I was the one judging her kindness.
The bad wolf in me reacted before the good sense arrived.
She didn’t take a photo. She didn’t announce it. She just did the right thing.
That struck something in me.
---
In India, we often bow to elders, gurus, and seniors. Blessings come naturally — have a long life, get married soon, live happily. Which is honestly a contradictory blessing. How can one get married and live happily?
Sorry wife, couldn’t help myself 😄
Through English movies and TV shows, I noticed that blessings often come only when asking permission from the girl’s parents — and even that is optional if the girl is on board.
We greet people every day — good morning, good evening, had lunch?, rain okay?, harvest okay?
Honestly, it’s tiring. You can’t say good evening at 8 AM in a supermarket, and you definitely can’t say good night casually at work without risking an HR meeting and a POSH complaint.
So I follow a foolproof plan — Namaste.
One word. Timeless. Safe.
I’m 35, but I still feel like a kid living in an uncle’s body. I remember rushing home from school to watch Upendra movies on Udaya TV. Someone once told me those movies were 25 years old. I was like, Don’t bullsht me, Rogers* — yes, Captain America reference, pop culture is important.
I’m mostly atheist. I don’t pray for things. I don’t do seva hoping for returns. I keep my distance from spiritual transactions.
But if I ever say one thing in front of God, it is this:
Ellarigoo Olledagali,
Adaralli Naavu Irali.
Let good happen to everyone, and let me be in that good.
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Another day. Another exam. This time, I went on a bike.
No earphones — bike and earphones are like fire and kerosene. Speed was slow, Dr. Rajkumar slow-tempo song style: “Baanigondu Elle Ellide.” I left early. Calm. Controlled.
Between Bhadravathi and Shivamogga, I saw a guy walking, checking behind repeatedly, hoping someone would give him a lift. I usually don’t entertain lift requests unless circumstances feel safe — known area, no valuables, instincts aligned.
I’m especially okay with students. They’re always low on Vitamin M (money). Helping them feels like punya. Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi — I know the struggle.
People say kindness costs nothing. I disagree.
Kindness costs money, patience, safety, sanity.
That day, I was low on funds — only enough for the exam and a matinee show. I was open to giving lifts only to students.
Two school kids waved at me. Same destination. Peas-and-carrot dynamite combo. Technically illegal — three on a bike — but I couldn’t say no.
They climbed on, curious, asking about my bike, income, college life. My autopilot broke. And then I noticed a Tamanna billboard in a beautiful Kanjeevaram saree — so stunning you might crash into a tree if you stare too long.
I stopped near their school and tapped their shoulders. No response.
Turns out, they were also staring at the same billboard.
I laughed inside. That moment, I saw my past, my present, and possibly their future. And I moved on.
But I also thought — what if things went wrong?
Kindness isn’t free. It’s always a gamble.
---
“Whatever Happendella Happendoo Happendu,” my friend once said in high school.
We had just crossed puberty avenue and didn’t want arranged marriages. Tried, failed, gave up. That’s when he said it.
Roughly: What must happen will happen at its time — not early, not late.
Academics are effort-based. Love is accident-based.
Anant Nag said it best in Gaalipata.
Desires change. First girls. Then jobs. Then cars.
One day I realised I wanted a car.
---
I couldn’t afford one. So I thought smart — if I can’t afford a ₹100 masala dosa, I’ll eat a ₹30 idli. I got a driving license instead.
After the RTO test, I boarded a crowded bus. Someone slit my bag and stole ₹40,000 cash — about 40 days of my salary back then.
I didn’t cry. Not because it didn’t hurt.
But because tears didn’t cooperate with the pain.
That loss stayed with me for a long time.
Later, floods came — houses floating, towers falling. I saw an Audi floating like a paper boat. That day, my ₹40,000 pain felt small — but still personal.
Pain isn’t diluted by comparison.
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Recently, during lunch at office — puri sagu in one hand, five-minute chess in the other — I lost a match in eight moves. Raging moment.
Then I remembered a line from Barry:
You cannot control other people’s actions.
Murphy’s Law doesn’t say something bad will happen.
It says whatever can happen, will happen.
I thought about goodness. About belief. About not making God an ATM or genie.
I’ve gone from full prayers to no prayers to some prayers to acceptance.
So now, before sleeping, I say this:
---
Oh dear God,
I may not understand everything,
But I know this one thing —
The world is a mix of both
Chutney and sambar.
People who do good,
And people who get high
On others’ misery.
I promise to myself,
And sometimes to you,
I’ll try — to the maximum extent —
To be good, and do good,
Expecting nothing.
---
Ellarigoo Olledagali,
Adaralli Naavu Irali.
Let good happen to everyone.
And let me be one among them.
🎬 — END —
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