My Unspoken Way of Giving

I often notice how people around me make sure their efforts are seen. At work, colleagues talk about everything they’ve contributed. At home, even my daughter highlights her chores as if she’s doing us a big favour.

That’s not how I function.

My needs may not be well defined. Maybe they’re just quiet affirmations I never say out loud.

I believe these affirmations work because I stay focused on giving, not demanding. Maybe that’s selfish. Or maybe I just don’t care enough to do it the usual way.

Once, my Royal Enfield ran out of fuel on a deserted road. I started pushing it. A three-wheeler driver saw me, didn’t wait to be asked, and towed me to the nearest petrol pump. No expectations.

Another time, I met with a serious accident. A stranger came within fifteen minutes, called the police and my family. He didn’t know me. He just helped.

Aren’t these moments of reciprocity? They’re definitely not coincidences—after all, coincidences have a probability of less than 0.01.

I don’t make noise about helping people.

I’ll take credit—without boasting—that life (or maybe God) supports me back. Maybe it’s because I’m not too clever or selfish. It shows up when I least expect it. Sometimes after a long wait.

I don’t get why every effort has to be declared. Why help is treated like a transaction.

My daughter talks about her chores like a favour. I see them as her contribution.

My colleagues build stories around their work. I just look at outcomes.

Is this my ego? Could be.

But it feels more like I’m in tune with something that doesn’t need words.

When everyone says, “Stand up for yourself or no one will,” it feels like I missed the life skills session. Or maybe I never learned. Or just didn’t want to be like that.

Maybe I’m too risk-averse. Or maybe just careless. I don’t know.