During my donor calls, I struck a chord with a kind-hearted man who agreed to place one of our donation boxes in his home. He asked me to meet him at his office the next day to finalise the details. When I inquired about the address, I was taken aback to discover that he was the Superintendent of Police, and the meeting was to be held at the DGP (Director General of Police) office.

Flustered but determined, I hid my surprise and mustered up the courage to visit the high-security DGP office. After a long wait in the imposing lounge, a man in plain clothes approached me. I couldn’t help but ask who he was, expecting to meet someone in a police uniform. To my amazement, he calmly replied that he was the  SP at SB CID (Special Branch CID) who asked me to come and that explained his civilian attire.

We discussed Oxfam’s work and the importance of our cause, and he agreed to place the donation box in his home. It was a moment of triumph, knowing that even those in the highest echelons of law enforcement recognized the value of our mission.

A week later, my phone rang, and my strict aunt answered it, her voice trembling with apprehension. She handed me the phone, her eyes wide with worry. It was the SP on the line, and my heart skipped a beat. Before he could say anything, my aunt asked if I had been involved in any car accident, fearing the worst because a policeman was calling.

With a perplexed smile, I assured her that everything was fine and took the call. The SP explained that the donation box in his home was already full, and requested me to come to his office to collect it. I was surprised by his diligence and commitment to our cause.

The day of the donation box collection arrived, and as we exchanged pleasantries, I suddenly realised I had forgotten the keys to the donation box. Panic threatened to engulf me, but I decided to be honest. “Do you have a gem clip?” I asked the SP, my voice quivering with embarrassment. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting my candid admission. “Why?” he questioned. I replied, “To open the box as I forgot the keys.”

To my relief, he smiled warmly and advised against it. “Don’t do that,” he said kindly. “You take the box and go. You can open it when you have the key and give the receipt later.”

As I left his office that day, I couldn’t help but wonder about the kind-heartedness of the man I had met. The donation box was heavy with generosity, containing over 1200+ rupees in cash.

A few days later, I returned to his office to hand over the receipt for the collection. I was grateful for his prompt response, and I mentioned how he was the first donor to call back for collection in such a short notice.

It was then that he shared a heartwarming revelation. He explained that it wasn’t solely his contribution but that of his 8-year-old son as well. His son had saved his pocket money diligently over the months and had filled the donation box with his own savings.

Touched by this unexpected act of kindness from a young child, I couldn’t help but be moved. It was a reminder that compassion knows no age, and that even the youngest among us can make a significant impact on the lives of others.

As I stood there, realizing the significance of his son’s contribution to our cause, it marked the beginning of a beautiful friendship not just with the SP but also with his 8-year-old son.

Over the following months, I had the pleasure of meeting his son, a bright and compassionate young boy. It was heartening to see how this young child’s innocence and generosity had touched my heart and deepened our bond.

Our friendship became a testament to the power of simple acts of kindness, and it reminded me that sometimes, the most meaningful connections are forged when we least expect them.