Coming home in the Metro after watching the Bonalu procession near Lal Darwaza I got a seat at Khairatabad. Some time later I found a young boy, eight years old perhaps, standing before me with his father looking around for a place to sit. I felt bad that he had to stand, knew it would be stupid to offer my seat to him. Luckily a seat was vacated soon enough and the father saw it.
Then only as a father can do, he offered the seat to his innocent looking son and stood for the rest of the journey. And I wondered how many times my father would have done that for me, or how many fathers do that every day.
So many small acts of love.
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