By: Syed Majid Gilani
Life often teaches us its best lessons through simple, everyday moments. Sometimes, something we quietly witness leaves a deeper mark on our hearts than any long speech or sermon. Some time ago, I experienced one such moment. It was a simple incident, but it left a lasting impression on my heart and mind.
It happened right here in Srinagar, and I feel it is worth sharing.
It was an ordinary day when I visited one of the largest trading firms in the city. The business is run by a young businessman from a faith different from that of the majority community here. He is carrying forward a family business started by his forefathers. His family is non-Kashmiri-speaking by background.
We were sitting in his spacious and well-lit office, talking about some work. Although he was a busy man, he still took time to sit with me over a cup of coffee. On one wall, an LCD screen showed live footage from his different offices across the city.
While we were talking, a young girl, modestly dressed in an abaya, quietly entered the room. With lowered eyes and a soft voice, she asked for permission to leave work early because she had something important to attend to at home.
What happened next caught my attention.
Despite our important discussion, he immediately turned towards her with fatherly kindness and said gently but firmly, “No problem, beta, but first call your parents. I need to speak to them.”
The girl left, made a call and soon returned.
“Sir, please speak to my mother,” she said softly.
He took the phone and spoke respectfully to her mother, addressing her as “Aunty ji”. He asked whether it was alright for her daughter to leave early.
Her mother agreed.
I thought the matter was settled. But the businessman then turned to the girl and said, “Beta, please call your father. I need to hear his consent before I allow you to leave.”
I was surprised.
This was more than a routine conversation between a boss and an employee. He was taking personal responsibility for the safety of someone else’s daughter.
The girl quietly nodded and made another call. A short while later, she returned with the phone in her hand.
“Sir, my father is on the line.”
The businessman spoke to him with the same warmth and respect, addressing him as “Uncle ji”. He explained the situation and asked for his permission.
The father agreed.
But the matter did not end there.
The businessman politely said, “Uncle ji, please call me again after fifteen minutes. By then, your daughter should have reached home.”
Hearing this, I was deeply moved.
I could not hold myself back and asked him, “Sir, I truly admire the way you look after your staff. Was there something special about this girl’s situation that made you insist on speaking to her father?”
He smiled gently, picked up the remote and pointed towards the LCD screen. It showed scenes from his other offices. In those offices, young girls could be seen working with focus and dignity.
He said, “Look, sir, I have many offices, and most of them are managed by young girls like her. Around 50 to 60 girls work with me. They are hardworking and educated, and many of them support their families. In today’s world, anything can happen at any time. I feel it is my duty to take every possible step for their safety and honour.”
Then he shared something that touched me even more.
“I have made a rule here. No outsider can meet or approach these girls directly. The moment they enter my office, I consider myself responsible for them. Until they return home safely, I feel I am answerable to God for their dignity, respect and security.”
I sat there quietly, listening to him. I felt a deep sense of respect for a man from a different faith who was following a principle of care and responsibility that is easy to speak about but not always easy to practise.
I asked him one more question.
“Sir, you have male staff and managers. Why do you take this responsibility upon yourself personally?”
His reply was simple.
“When someone truly wants to protect a woman’s dignity and maintain discipline, they should not think about their position, workload or status. They should take responsibility themselves. Most mothers, because of their love for their daughters, can sometimes be emotionally influenced. A father, however, may think more carefully about his daughter’s safety, especially when she is leaving work early. That is why I always confirm with the father too.”
His words stayed with me long after I left his office.
That day, I did not hear a lecture or a sermon. I simply witnessed a small act of responsibility that made me think deeply.
I walked into that office for some official work. I walked out carrying a thought that stayed with me long after I had left.
Sometimes, the simplest acts of care leave the deepest impressions. We may forget many conversations, but we remember moments when someone quietly does what they believe is right.
This was one such moment for me.
Sometimes, humanity does not need a speech. It simply needs someone to do the right thing.
Syed Majid Gilani is a storyteller by passion and a government officer by profession. He shares heartfelt thoughts on family values and human emotions. You can reach him at [email protected].
