I just discovered this post I had saved to my draft folder in June 2013 whilst living in Gurgaon, India. I would like to share it now as it has an interesting ending…
I have the best driver in town. He is diligent, pleasant and has the sweetest smile. He refers to me as M’am, opens my car door and carries my bags.
He simply makes me feel like the Queen of Gurgaon.
He earns a paltry income (provided by the company) and I often tip him but yesterday I sensed to give him a little extra. Now drivers here can be notorious for sharing all their financial woes: the brother who needs money to reach Mumbai, the daughter getting married, the wife in hospital with kidney stones and the son’s school fees are just the beginning of a money tap that doesn’t stop dripping.
Moti is not like that.
As he opens the car door and I say goodbye, I hand him money and explain that I have been prompted to give it to him.
Next day I complain to him how one of my six air conditioners broke down and what a nuisance it is when I am trying to stay cool. He quietly tells me he has exactly the same problem but his is just an air cooler and worse still, the motor has blown and will cost him half his monthly salary to fix.
I say to him,
Moti, my God knows everything; He even knows about your broken cooler.
Wide eyed he replies,
That’s why He prompted me to give you money yesterday and that is why I am now going to give you some more.
You did not ask me for money Moti but I want to help you.
He jumps out of the car and bows as he opens my door and I quickly interject,
No Moti, not to me – just say thank you to God.
Shyly he looks up and says
Ahh, Thankyou God!
About eighteen months after writing this, Moti was involved in a serious accident – coming off his motor bike and landing on his head-without a helmet. Rushed to hospital he spent several months in the ICU comatose and with paralysis in some limbs. We had moved to new work in Mumbai and Moti was now employed by our son Peter so we hopped on a plane to visit him. Some Indian hospitals are in a sad state and Moti was in one of them. We asked a doctor if we could get him fresh sheets and a clean blanket but were told to not bother as they would probably be stolen in the middle of the night. By now Moti was out of his coma but having lost his memory he didn’t recognise me. A look of fear had replaced his sweet smile.
Over the months many prayed for Moti.
His prognosis looked dismal and yet within 12 months he was well enough to return to work as a driver completely healed and with his memory restored.