Now, I am an aged person with many years of life experience. I have witnessed the agonies and ecstasies of life—the depths of sorrow and heights of joy.

Life has taught me a few lessons, but one story sticks out more prominently in my mind: a reminder of the power of kindness and how even the smallest gestures can leave a lasting impact.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was a high school boy walking home from school, absorbed in my own thoughts, looking forward to the weekend. Church activities, playing with friends, a football game, and sometimes a movie—life felt good.

Then, I saw him.

Johny, a boy from my class, was walking ahead of me, struggling under the load of what appeared to be every one of his books. Who carries home that many books on a Friday? I thought to myself. What a studious boy!

I dismissed it and continued to walk.

But then, suddenly, a bunch of boys were running toward him. They struck him a blow before he could respond.

His books soared from his arms to the sidewalk. Johny fell and crashed down onto the dirt, face first. His glasses went flying, landing in the grass a few feet away.

I stood there and watched him drift around, eyes angry and sad.

And then I saw it.

A tear rolled down his cheek. My chest tightened. Something inside me was stirred, and before I knew it, I jogged over to him. He crawled on the floor, shaking hands, searching for his glasses. I lifted them and carefully passed them to him.

“They are bad guys,” I said, attempting casualness, but I think I was angry for him deep down. Those boys shall be punished, I thought.

Johny looked up at me, his eyes sparkling behind his thick lenses. Then, he smiled—an honest, genuine smile. “Thanks, hey,”  he said quietly. And in that moment,  everything shifted.

I helped him gather his books and asked where he lived. It turned out he lived pretty close to me, and I wondered why I had never seen him before. “I used to go to a private tuition in the morning,” he explained.

Private Tuition? I would have never gone for private tuition, but Johny was different. He was very studious.

We talked all the way home, and I found myself enjoying his company. I even asked him if he wanted to play football with us over the weekend. To my surprise, he said yes.

That weekend was one of the best I had in a long time. Johny was funny, kind, and way cooler than I ever imagined. My friends liked him too. Little by little, he became part of our group.

Monday morning rolled around, and there he was again, carrying that same huge stack of books. I laughed and said, “Man, you’re going to build some serious muscles with these books!” He grinned and handed me half of them.

From then on, we were inseparable. Over the next four years, Johny and I became best friends. We shared our dreams, fears, and plans for the future. Johny was going to Bangalore to become a doctor, and I had my engineering degree at Thiruvananthapuram.

Johny was brilliant—valedictorian of our class, no surprise there. I constantly teased him about being a nerd, and he’d laugh.

Final Year’s Day arrived, and I saw him standing there, looking sharp in his new dress and glasses. He was confident, handsome, and more popular than I’d ever been. Girls adored him, and to be honest, sometimes I felt a little jealous.

Before his speech, I patted him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’re going to crush it!” He looked at me with that same grateful smile I’d seen on the day we met and whispered, “Thanks.”

He stepped onto the stage, cleared his throat, and began speaking.
“Graduation is a time to thank those who helped us through the tough years—parents, teachers, siblings, maybe even a coach. But most of all, our friends.” He paused and looked straight at me.

“I want to share a story with you.”

My heart stopped. I watched him closely as he continued.

“Initially, I was very sad and disturbed. I was angry with everyone in my mind. I had many real and imaginary problems. I remember the first day I met my best friend; I was carrying home all my books because I had planned to end my life that weekend. I didn’t want my mom to have to clean out my locker in school. I thought I had nothing left. But one person changed that. He picked up my glasses, carried my books, and made me feel like I mattered.”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. I sat frozen, unable to believe what I was hearing. Johny’s parents looked at me, their eyes brimming with tears and their faces glowing with gratitude.

Johny smiled at me. “My friend saved me from doing the unthinkable. With just one small gesture, he changed my life.”

Tears filled my eyes. I never knew how much that moment had meant to him. I just thought I was being nice.

“Never underestimate the power of your actions,” Johny continued. “A small act of kindness can change someone’s life, even save it. God puts us in each other’s paths for a reason. Look for angels in others.”

His words hit me deeply.
“Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings forget how to fly.”

This story has stayed with me through the years, and I often think about its moral. It teaches us that small acts of kindness can have a ripple effect far beyond what we can see.

Sometimes, all it takes is a smile, a helping hand, or a kind word to turn someone’s life around.

We never know what silent battles others are facing, and our compassion can be their saving grace. This experience taught me that we should always choose kindness, no matter how small the gesture.

Life is unpredictable, but the kindness we show can leave an everlasting impact. True friendship and genuine care have the power to heal and uplift. And most importantly, we should always be mindful of the fact that we can be someone’s angel when they least expect it.