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Transcript

"How 30 Rupees and a Stranger’s Smile Changed My Life"

Discovering Life’s Grand Plan on a One-Way Ticket Out of Town

The Journey Begins...

Good morning, friends! Today, let's hop back to 1964, to a small town near Mysore, where a young, hopeful version of me once stared down an uncertain path with a mere 30 rupees in hand. This true story reveals how the Universe can surprise us with a plan when we least expect it—even if it’s delivered via a stranger on a rickety bus.

Let me set the scene. My father, a police officer, was your classic “happy-go-lucky” type who thought about the future...well, never. My mother, however, was ambitious, driven, and determined to see her children rise beyond small-town expectations, despite having little formal education herself. As for me? A perfect blend of the two—a dreamer with a pragmatic streak.

The Big Dream and the Disappointment

In my youth, I held a very specific ambition: I wanted to be a doctor. But life, as they say, had other ideas. After completing SSLC and learning some shorthand and typing, I shared my big, bright plan with my parents, hoping for encouragement. Instead, I got a reality check.

My father, relaying his thoughts through my mother (as was often the way), suggested I let go of the “doctor” idea. He was retiring soon, and his job in the police department could automatically transfer to me. A steady paycheck, a secure life—it sounded sensible enough. But in my heart, I was crushed. It felt like being handed a box of crayons only to be told I could use only one color for the rest of my life.

30 Rupees and a Mother’s Resolve

My mother, though bound by her circumstances, wasn’t one to let ambition die so easily. One fateful afternoon, she pressed a mere 30 rupees into my hand. She didn’t know how I’d manage, where I’d go, or even what I’d eat. She just said, “Go, pursue your studies. And do it fast—before your father comes home.”

Now, 30 rupees in 1964 could take you places, but it was hardly a lifetime supply of funding. With a mix of excitement and dread, I set out for Mysore, the nearest big town, without a single clue where I’d sleep that night. Imagine the scene: a young lad on a mission, clutching his belongings, headed off on what felt like a one-way ticket to the unknown.

The Bus Ride of Destiny

I boarded a bus, “Udayaranga Transport” (funny how some things stay etched in memory), and took a seat. Emotions welled up inside me—fear, excitement, and a pang of homesickness. Not long into the journey, a gentleman boarded the bus and took the seat next to mine. By his demeanor, he looked like a village leader, someone wise yet approachable.

Sensing my unease, he turned to me and asked, “Why are you weeping, young man?” I spilled my story: I was headed to Mysore to study, but I had no plan beyond that bus ride. He listened quietly, and then...nothing. Not a word. We rode in silence the rest of the way.

When we arrived in Mysore, he finally broke his silence. “Take this road,” he said, pointing down the street. “Turn right, and look for the third shop, Suranarayana Shetty Cloth Merchants. Tell the owner you need a place to stay and are here to study.” And then, just like that, he walked away, a stranger with no name who had just given me the first roadmap of my journey.

The Universe Shows Up in Unexpected Ways

Now, here’s where it gets mystical. I didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t owe me anything. But somehow, he appeared exactly when I needed him. I took his directions and, true to his word, found the cloth merchant. A few brief explanations later, and I had a place to stay—a modest room in the merchant’s choultry, thanks to the kind-hearted man who owned the shop.

For a small-town boy, Mysore was like New York City—a place where every street corner buzzed with opportunity, yet also a bit intimidating. But that day, I learned my first lesson in faith: sometimes, when we dare to step out with no guarantees, the Universe provides us with exactly what we need.

“Surrender” Doesn’t Mean Sitting Idle

I realized that surrender isn’t a passive thing. It’s dynamic—it means doing your best while trusting that there’s a higher power ready to step in. In that moment, surrender meant putting one foot in front of the other, even if I didn’t know the destination. This wasn’t a blind faith; it was an active trust that there was a purpose unfolding, even if I couldn’t see it yet.

This incident taught me that waiting for the “right” moment or for “God to show up” with all the bells and whistles was...well, pointless. The Universe (or God, or fate, whatever you believe in) doesn’t always announce itself with a neon sign. Sometimes, it’s a stranger on a bus. Sometimes, it’s a mother’s final push out the door.

A Lesson in Gratitude

Looking back, I’ve often wondered: What if that stranger hadn’t sat beside me on the bus that day? What if my mother had held me back instead of pushing me forward? It’s humbling to realize that while we plot and plan, some things in life just happen, as if orchestrated by a higher power.

Like a play in which we’re given no script, we move forward, often fumbling, sometimes falling, but always learning. That stranger didn’t change my life with grand advice; he simply pointed me in the right direction. And that, sometimes, is all we really need—a nudge, a hint, a gentle hand pointing down a new path.

Wrapping It Up

To everyone reading, let this story remind you that life’s most profound moments often arrive quietly, without fanfare. Whether you call it fate, divine intervention, or just good luck, these small miracles happen more often than we realize. And all it takes is a little courage to board the bus, a little faith that you’ll find a way, and sometimes, a stranger with an encouraging word.

So, my friends, next time you feel lost or are waiting for a “sign,” remember: it might not look like what you expect. It might be a stranger, a small push, or a brief, quiet direction. Just trust.

Until next time, keep an eye out for your own unexpected guides—they’re all around us.

Sign-off

Stay curious, stay brave, and trust the journey,

Ravi Prakash


P.S. Remember, the Universe might not always send you a knight in shining armor, but sometimes a stranger on a rickety bus is just as good!

4o