I was travelling home on the metro, as usual, deep in sleep, and then I noticed that at the next stop a boy entered the metro. It wasn’t his backpack or his messy hair that made him stand out, but the fact that he was barefoot, wearing one tattered trainer and one unmatched sock. He sat down between the two strangers and tried to pretend not to notice their stares.
People are weird about this sort of thing. Some look away, some stare, but most just pretend not to notice. But the man sitting on the other side of the boy kept looking down at the bag at his feet. It was obvious that he was thinking about something.
After a few stops, the man leaned over, cleared his throat, and said quietly: “Hey, I just bought these for my son, but they might fit you better. He already has a pair.” The boy looked up, surprised and a little suspicious, but the man just handed him the brand new blue trainers with tags.
Everyone pretended not to look, but you could feel the mood in the carriage change. The boy stared at the trainers, then put them on. A perfect fit. He whispered a “thank you”, but the man only smiled and said: “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll do it someday.”
The woman sitting across from me gave the man a knowing look and a quiet, grateful smile that seemed to speak volumes. I, too, felt a warmth spreading through me, and not just because of the cold, stuffy air in the underground carriage. There was something about this simple gesture, so unassuming and yet filled with deep meaning, that made me feel that maybe the world wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
The boy seemed to relax a little after putting on his new shoes. He shifted in his seat, stopped fiddling with the mismatched toe and leaned back in his chair, eyes down on his new trainers as if they were a small miracle. And to him, perhaps they were. I thought about his story – how he ended up barefoot, walking around the city with a mismatched pair of shoes. Was he homeless? Maybe he was just having a bad day?
The train carriage filled with the familiar sounds of coins jingling, quiet murmurs and the rumble of the rails beneath us, but for a moment I thought time had slowed down. I looked round at the faces, all of us stuck in our own worlds, and thought: if only we could all be a little more like this man, offering help without expecting anything in return.
After travelling a few stops, I couldn’t help but notice the boy occasionally glance at the man, a look of contradiction on his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the shoes, rather he didn’t know how to construe such kindness. He seemed to want to say something else, but remained silent.
Finally the boy got up to get off at his stop. Before he got off the train, he turned to the man who had given him the shoes.
‘Hi,’ the boy said, his voice trembling slightly. “Thanks. I…I don’t know what to say.”
The man nodded again with a slight smile that seemed to have no hint of pretence in it, just calm understanding. “You don’t have to say anything, kid. Just make sure you pass it on sometime.”
The boy nodded, lifting the straps of his rucksack slightly, and walked off the train, disappearing into the crowd. The others went back to their normal routines. Some were already immersed in their phones again, others were leafing through books or newspapers, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.
I didn’t know what had happened to the boy, but I hoped that he would take this small act of kindness with him, that it would somehow make his life easier, give him hope when he needed it most. And as I thought about it, I wondered, What if we all did something like this every day?
A few weeks went by and I didn’t think back to that moment too often. Life became busy again. But then, on another trip on a crowded underground, I found myself in a situation I couldn’t ignore.
I was standing near the door, holding onto the pillar, when I noticed an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the carriage. She was struggling to hold her purse, trying to keep it from slipping off her lap while keeping her hands steady. Her face was tired and rugged with age, but there was a quiet dignity to it, and I couldn’t help but notice that her shoes, old and worn, had clearly seen better days.
The train was crowded, and no one seemed to notice her struggle. I was tempted to turn away, to pretend I couldn’t see, but I couldn’t. The face of the boy from that underground ride a few weeks ago flashed through my mind. And I thought, if I don’t help now, what will that say about me?
Squeezing through the crowd, I knelt down beside her and held out my hand to help her lift her bag. She looked up in surprise, but her face softened at the sight of my offer.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice soft, almost hesitant. ‘It’s just so hard to keep it all together sometimes.’
I smiled and helped her adjust her bag. We chatted for a while, and I learnt that she was going through a difficult time. Her husband had passed away a few months ago and her children lived far away. She spent her days running errands and attending doctor’s appointments, but couldn’t shake the loneliness that wouldn’t leave her.
Before she left, she thanked me again, but this time I felt something different. I didn’t do it for recognition, but I was overwhelmed by a quiet, warm feeling. The same feeling I’d experienced a few weeks ago while riding the underground – the feeling that small acts of kindness can make a difference in someone’s life, even if it’s just someone’s day.
And then, as she was about to leave, she handed me a small folded piece of paper. I didn’t know what it was, but I took it, still thinking about what we had talked about. When I got home, I opened the paper and found a note inside, written in thin handwriting:
“Thank you for the kindness you showed me today. You have no idea how much it means. I’m passing it on to you in a small way – here’s a coupon for a free lunch at the cafe I went to with my husband. It’s a small thing, but I hope it brings a smile to your face.”
The coupon was for a restaurant I had my eye on months ago, but never found the time to visit. The gesture was simple, but very meaningful. She didn’t know it, but this coupon was more than just a free meal – it was a reminder that kindness has a way of coming back around in a circle.
The next day I decided to visit a café. When I entered, I was greeted by a cosy atmosphere and I felt like I had entered another world. The food was delicious, and as I sat down to eat, I couldn’t help but feel grateful – not just for the free food, but for everything that had brought me to this moment. It wasn’t just about the food or the gesture; it was about how two people, strangers to each other, connected in such a natural, such a human way.
It made me think of the old adage, ‘What goes around comes around.’ And maybe it doesn’t always happen on a large scale. Maybe it happens in small moments – like a man giving a boy a pair of shoes or a stranger reaching out to someone in need. Maybe the Universe balances things out in its own way, rewarding us for the kindness we show, even if it takes time.
As I sat enjoying my food and the quiet of the cafe, I realised: kindness not only changes other people’s lives, it changes ours too. We don’t always see the immediate effect of our actions, but the ripple effect is real. And sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that leave the biggest footprints.
So to everyone reading this: If you ever have the opportunity, be that person who reaches out, smiles, gives a pair of shoes to someone in need. You may never know what effect your actions will have, but trust me, they will come back to you in ways you don’t even expect.
And if this story resonated with you, share it with someone who may need to be reminded of the power of kindness today.
