22. The AIBE Exam I Went to Write, and the Lesson in Humanity I Brought Back.

 

AIBE XXI – My Story

I got my AIBE examination centre at a school in Nallasopara, a good 70 kilometres away from where I stay. Given my physical health, limited stamina, and recurring acidity issues, I was genuinely concerned. How would I manage a journey of nearly three hours, write a three-hour examination, and then undertake another three-hour journey back home?

The examination was scheduled from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.—exactly in the middle of the day, neither before nor after lunch. Even planning meals required careful thought.

The immediate solution seemed obvious: check into a hotel near the examination centre the previous evening.

It was a practical and feasible idea. There were innumerable hotels in the area, though not very close to the centre, most being about 20–30 minutes away by road. That sounded reasonable enough.

Meanwhile, my husband spoke to a few friends because Nallasopara was a place we had only heard about and never actually visited. It always sounded like a far-off suburban residential area. The most economical and practical connection with Mumbai was through the Western Railway local trains, which run frequently.

But with a bag full of books, advancing age, health concerns, and a life that had gradually moved from middle-class train journeys to travelling by car, train travel was simply out of the question.

One of our friends then offered us the use of their earlier residence, which happened to be much closer to the examination centre.

Little did I know that I was about to experience a royal welcome and what felt like VIP treatment.

We left our home in Kharghar at around 5.30 p.m. and reached our friend's place by 8.30 p.m. During the journey itself, our friend Suraj called several times to check on our progress and informed us that their maid was waiting to show us the flat.

I remember wondering what there was really to see. I had carried food for ourselves and was mentally planning my last-minute revision for the examination.

The first warm feeling greeted us even before we entered the building.

The security guard at the gate showed us where to park our car. The moment we mentioned Suraj's name, everyone became noticeably courteous and hospitable. It may sound like a small thing, but it was a rare experience.

Over the years, whenever we visited someone, security personnel would usually ask us to make entries in registers, instruct us not to park in certain places, or direct us to leave the car outside the society premises. Here, however, we felt welcomed even before entering the building.

When we entered the house, another surprise awaited us.

The refrigerator was stocked with vegetables, coconut water, curd, buttermilk, eggs, milk and bread. The house was spotless, fully functional, and ready for comfortable living.

A little later, Lakshmi, the maid, came to explain where everything was kept. I told her there had been far too much trouble taken for us. After all, we were only going to stay for a single night and would leave immediately after the examination.

She replied, "Madam has told me to keep everything ready for your stay—new towels, new bedsheets, and even the air-conditioners have been serviced."

At that very moment, Suraj's mother called on Lakshmi's phone. I took the opportunity to speak with her.

All I heard was:

"Geeta, you can stay for two or three days. Cook, eat, rest. Everything has been kept for you."

Those words brought tears to my eyes.

That night, one question kept ringing in my mind:

What is true richness?

People may possess immense wealth and money, yet may not know how to spend it. People may interact with hundreds of others every day, yet may not know what words need to be spoken at the right moment.

Those words—"You can stay for two or three days"—were not merely words.

They felt like affection.

They felt like belonging.

They reflected a largeness of heart, generosity of spirit, and a magnanimity that cannot be measured in material terms.

Even the best words fail to describe the sense of gratitude and overwhelm that I have felt since arriving here.

I kept wondering how I could express my happiness and gratitude to Suraj and his family.

The next morning, I woke up and made coffee for us. I cooked rice and tomato chutney, along with cucumber salad and curd for lunch. My husband prepared omelettes and bread for breakfast.

We did all this partly to make use of the fresh provisions thoughtfully kept for us and partly as our small way of acknowledging the care that had been extended to us.

The AIBE examination brought me to Nallasopara.

But the greater lesson I learned was not from any law book.

It was a lesson in hospitality.

A lesson in kindness.

A lesson in how genuine affection can transform an ordinary act into an unforgettable memory.

Thank you, Aunty.

My deepest regards and namaskarams to you.

My heartfelt wishes to Suraj and his entire family for a long, healthy, prosperous, happy and blessed life. May good fortune, good health, and happiness remain with your family for generations to come.

Sometimes, the most important examinations in life are not the ones we write in examination halls.

They are the ones where people quietly demonstrate the values of humanity, generosity, and love.

And in that examination, your family scored full marks.

I had gone to Nallasopara carrying law books for an examination. I returned carrying something much more valuable—a reminder of the goodness that still exists in people.