Acts of kindness..!

KINDNESS always breaks the barriers of caste, creed and community, doesn’t it? In 1922 Gandhiji was sent to the Yeravada Jail. The jail superintendent, knowing that Gandhiji was deeply revered by both Hindus and Muslims, chose as his jail mate an African convict who knew no Indian language, and, therefore, he thought could not be influenced by this “enemy” of the British Empire.
One day the African was stung by a scorpion and came running to Bapu, holding an agonized hand. Without wasting a moment, the Mahatma sucked the poison out of the sting and the poor man began to feel better. Then Bapu applied various other treatments and the African was relieved of his pain. It was the first time in his life that the unfortunate wretch had received so much love from anyone. And he served Gandhiji with unflagging zeal and devotion.
And here are other acts of kindness: Philip Sidney lay dying on the battlefield of Zutphen. Someone handed him a drink of water, but, instead of cooling his parched throat with it, he passed it on to an unknown soldier, an enemy who lay wounded nearby, saying, “Your need is greater than mine.” Richard W. Gilder, the biographer, once boarded a train. He knew that President Cleveland was traveling in the same train. As he had something important to communicate to the President, he began to loo0k for him. But a long and thorough search failed to show any sign of the President in the crowded coaches. At last Gilder went to the baggage car in order to question the conductor. There, to his great dismay, he found the nation’s chief Executive sitting on a crate with his back against the side of the car. A woman with a baby had boarded the train, and President Cleveland had offered his seat to her!
The British poet, George Herbert, was hastening to a musical concert. On the street he saw a poor man whose horse had fallen under its heavy load. The poet stopped to it to its feet and then reload. He then gave some money to the man to buy food for the animal and its owner.
When he reached the concert hall, his friends were shocked to see his dirtied and disarrayed clothes. When the poet told the company what he had done, someone remarked that he had lowered his standards by doing such a menial task.
“What I have done,” replied Herbert, “will be music to me even at midnight. On the other hand, if I had not done it my conscience would have sounded a terrible discord of noise!” And to all you wonderful readers, may your acts of kindness be music to you..!
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