Today at the railway station, I noticed two women dressed in fully white sarees. They looked like they belonged to some religious order or spiritual group. Accompanying them was also a large bald man.
It was a hot summer afternoon, and the station was packed. People were dragging luggage, rushing for trains, squeezing through crowds, and trying to survive both the heat and the announcements blaring from every direction. In the middle of all this chaos, a large can they were carrying tipped over, spilling a large amount of coconut oil onto the floor. Within seconds, a shiny puddle spread across the walkway — the kind that could easily turn a railway station into an accidental skating rink.
For a moment, I expected some kind of reaction. Maybe panic. Maybe apologies. Maybe at least a dramatic “Oh no!” followed by somebody trying to find a mop. A small part of me even wondered whether there would be some deeply spiritual response to the situation.
But no.
Instead:
- They behaved almost as if nothing had happened.
- Several people nearly walked straight into the puddle, only noticing it at the very last second and awkwardly swerving away.
- Nobody warned the crowd.
- Nobody informed the railway authorities.
- The group simply stood there with remarkable inner peace, apparently trusting fate, footwear friction, and human reflexes to handle the matter.
What struck me most was not the spill itself, but the complete indifference afterward. In a crowded railway station, a large puddle of coconut oil is not exactly a decorative floor feature. Someone could have slipped badly and gotten hurt. Yet the whole thing was treated with the emotional weight of a dropped biscuit crumb.
Conclusion
What made the incident memorable was the contrast between appearance and action. People who visually carried an image of discipline, spirituality, and responsibility responded to the situation with complete detachment.
There was no concern, no warning, no attempt to help prevent harm — only silence and indifference. It was a strange reminder that spiritual clothing or religious identity does not automatically translate into awareness, compassion, or public responsibility. Sometimes the most ordinary act — simply warning another human being about danger — says more about a person than the image they present to the world.

