perception
Yesterday, during my morning walk, the word "perception" suddenly came to mind. It reminded me of an experience from many years ago, when I first joined the Integral Coach Factory (ICF) as a Chargeman in 1995. I was posted in the machine shop, where I encountered a man who left a lasting impression on me—not initially through admiration, but through a gradual and humbling change in how I perceived him.
There was a worker in another section named Kalaganathan (name changed). He was employed as a Khalasi and was around 50 years old. Every day, he would report to duty in shabby clothes, with unkempt hair and a strong body odor, suggesting he hadn’t bathed. Naturally, he stood out, and not in a favorable way. People in the shop casually referred to him as "mental" and often made fun of him. He didn’t have a home, had never married, had no family, and didn’t even maintain a bank account. Instead, he would hand over his entire salary to a supervisor he trusted and withdraw small amounts from him when needed.
Personally, I have always placed great importance on cleanliness—both for myself and my surroundings. So, I found it difficult to even be near Kalaganathan. My first impression of him was, frankly, one of disgust. I avoided speaking to him altogether.
Then one day, something happened that completely shifted my perception.
Kalaganathan walked into the supervisor's room and requested my colleague to help him find a girl to marry. We were all taken aback. None of us ever expected such a request from him, especially at his age. Curious, I asked him directly, "Why do you want to get married now, at 50?"
He looked at me calmly and replied, “Sir, I think I will die in four or five years. Before that, I want to give life to someone—someone who doesn’t have anyone in this world. There are so many people who can’t even afford one proper meal a day. If such a girl marries me, she will at least have food for life with my pension. I don’t want a wife for companionship or physical needs. I just want to help someone in need. That’s all.”
That moment changed everything for me.
Until then, I had judged him solely based on his appearance and hygiene. But in that one moment, I realized the depth of his compassion, selflessness, and humanity. Though he looked disheveled and was treated as an outcast, his thinking and intentions were far more noble than many people I had known.
True to his words, he got married to an orphan girl shortly after. Sadly, he passed away within a year. But his wife still works in our office to this day, living with dignity and stability, thanks to his thoughtfulness.
That encounter taught me a lifelong lesson: perception is not reality. We must look beyond appearances to understand the true worth of a person. Sometimes, the most beautiful souls are wrapped in the most humble of exteriors.
Comments
Post a Comment