The Unknown Person Who Became Part of Our Mornings

       The Unknown Person Who Became Part of Our Mornings

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The other day, my wife suddenly asked me, “Oyee! Some time back you were telling me about that person you used to meet every morning, right?”

I said, “Who? The one I used to talk about? That unknown person?”

She said, “Yes! That one. Why are you asking about him now?”

She explained she was watching some Korean series, and something in it reminded her of the story I told her about that person. So she wanted to know more.

I smiled and said, “Okay, if you want to talk about him now, I have to take you back in time. Hop on! Let me take you to the memory.”

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Flashback to 2019, Early Morning

It was 6 o’clock in the morning. My alarm started playing some song. I quickly paused it or hit snooze because, you know, early morning sleep is the sweetest. No matter what, the sleep god always pulls you back in.

After 10 minutes, the alarm started again. I told myself, “No, you’re not letting me sleep anymore. I have to get up.”

It was my routine to take my daughter out for a walk. She was still a baby then, so I used to carry her in my arms, take a small bag, and go out to get milk.

That was a small walk we did every day.

Since my daughter had just started exploring the world, I always let her look around. Our first stop was the play area where she loved the swing. She would enjoy playing there for some time.

After that, we’d go to the nearby store to get the milk.

While going to the store, there would be a lot of little things to look at — animated signs, birds, sounds — and she enjoyed all of it.

On our way back from the store, that’s when we saw him.

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The Unknown Person

How was he?

Tall — about 6 feet 4 inches — and probably in his mid-60s. By the way he walked and moved his hands, I noticed he was mostly left-handed.

We had seen him before, but never talked. This was the first time we actually interacted.

For some reason, his voice was so soft — very different from his strong body and look.

That day, he said, “Hi. What’s her name?”

I told him my daughter’s name.

He smiled and walked on.

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Our Morning Routine

This became our morning routine.

Next day, we saw him again. He was walking on the other side of the lane, but he came all the way to our side and said, “Good morning! Have a good day. Say hi to my daughter.”

This went on like this for a year or so.

Sometimes, we missed a day — either because we didn’t go out or he wasn’t there. But mostly, it was like clockwork.

Then Came COVID

And then COVID happened.

During the lockdown, we all stayed home, so there were no morning walks.

Whenever there was some relaxation in restrictions, I went out early to get milk — but without my daughter.

For a few days, I was able to see that unknown person again.

And then, suddenly — he vanished.

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The Void Left Behind

You know how it feels when a person you used to interact with regularly suddenly disappears?

Those small interactions — “Hi,” “Bye,” a smile, a little laugh — all positive vibes — suddenly gone.

It was strange not to see him anymore.

After some days, I asked the shop owner from where I bought the milk if he knew what happened.

That’s when my world shattered.

“Sir, he is no more.”

“What? What happened?”

“COVID.”

I heard from someone else that he had died.

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My Thoughts

I kept thinking about him.

He used to look so happy when he saw me and my daughter, especially her. I felt maybe he had a granddaughter around her age. Maybe that’s why he came every morning — to catch a glimpse of her.

The unknown person… even though I never knew his name, even though we never exchanged numbers or talked much beyond a few words, I felt really sad that he was gone.

He came into our lives as a stranger and left the same way — unknown.

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Back to Now

When my wife asked me about him, I realized this story needed to be written down.

We all have moments like this — times when we meet unknown people during travels, on trains, buses, flights, or just in everyday life.

People we talk to, laugh with, share little moments — but don’t know much else about.

And then they disappear.

As I told this story to my wife, she got a little emotional. I consoled her with one thing I always believe:

“Life will move on.”

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Have you ever met someone like that? A stranger who left a mark on your life without you knowing much about them? Share your story in the comments below. I’d love to hear.

When the Bees Came Calling

                           🐝 When the Bees Came Calling

                                               “A Weekend, A Memory, A Message from the Hive”

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🌤️ A Usual Weekend... Until It Wasn't

It was just past 2:30 in the afternoon. I was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, aimlessly scrolling through the usual mix of news, memes, and randomness. Just another weekend. Nothing special.

Then I heard it—that soft, familiar buzz.

Three honeybees had flown into my living room. Hovering, darting, making that distinct “hummm” that’s hard to ignore if you’ve grown up close to nature.

Now, bees wandering into my home isn’t all that unusual. With a balcony full of plants and fruit trees all around the house, they’re regular visitors. But something about this visit… it tugged at a memory.

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⏪ Rewind: A Farm, a Summer, and a Box Full of Bees

I was maybe 13 or 14. Summer holidays. The kind where time slows down, and the only plan is to stay outdoors.

I was at my grandmother’s home—the place where mud meets memory, and every tree had a story. One afternoon, she mentioned casually,

“Near the gate… by that old tree… I think there’s a honeybee nest splitting. We should move them before they abscond.”

Soon enough, the village “bee man” arrived. I still remember the smell of the smoke, the way he moved with calm confidence. And me? I was wide-eyed. Curious. Buzzing with excitement.

I joined in, of course. First as a spectator. Then, slowly, as a participant.

“They’re calm when they’re together,” he said. “Especially Indian bees. You won’t get stung if you’re gentle.”

He handed me the smoke can, and soon, I was helping move a living swarm—my fingers trembling but heart racing. I even helped shift the queen.

Sure, a few bees stung me. But that sting? It was nothing compared to the thrill of being part of something so ancient and alive.

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⏩ Fast Forward: Silence Where Buzz Once Lived

Years passed. On another visit to the farm, I ran to check the hive boxes we had installed after those adventures. One, two, three…

But something was wrong.

One box—the liveliest one, always filled with the hum of life—was quiet. Too quiet.

I walked over, crouched, and saw them… dozens of bees lying still beneath the stand. Lifeless.
I opened the lid. Even the queen was gone.

I asked around. Researched. Pieced it together.
Nearby farms had sprayed chemicals. The bees, doing what they always do—collecting nectar—brought back poison instead.

That hive had been bursting with honey. Now it was a grave.

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🐝 When the Bees Spoke

As I sat on the sofa that weekend, watching the three little bees move around my hall, it was like something shifted. The hum became a conversation. A whisper.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe not.
But I heard them.

🐝 Bee 1: “It smells familiar… This used to be a safe zone. The garden still blossoms.”
🐝 Bee 2: “Let’s just rest a while. So many of our kind are gone. Lost to sprays and smoke.”
🐝 Bee 3: “But look! Guava flowers outside… Maybe there's still hope.”

And then the memories poured in.

🐝 Bee 1: “Do you remember the mango grove near the old well? Lush blooms, no sprays. Every flower welcomed us.”
🐝 Bee 2: “That land is barren now. Concrete has replaced trees. Where do bees go when there’s no home left?”
🐝 Bee 3: “I tried the sunflower fields. The nectar tasted wrong. We lost many sisters there.”

A quiet hum. A moment of mourning. And then—resolve.

🐝 Bee 1: “We’ve survived storms. Fires. Even floods. We’ll keep flying.”
🐝 Bee 2: “Do humans even know? Without us, their plates would be empty.”
🐝 Bee 3: “Let’s go. The guava blooms won’t last long.”

And just like that, they were gone. Out through the window, into the light, and onto the guava tree.
Back to work. Back to saving the world, one flower at a time.

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🌱 Why This Matters—To You, Me, and Everyone Who Eats

Bees don’t just make honey.
They make life happen.

Over 75% of the food we eat relies on pollinators like them. Fruits. Vegetables. Even coffee.

In India, we’re lucky to have native bees like the Indian honeybee (Apis cerana indica)—hardy, humble, and used to our ways.
Then there’s the stingless bee, tiny and gentle but mighty in pollination.
And the rock bee (Apis dorsata)—wild, strong, and fierce, nesting high on cliffs and tall trees.

But they’re disappearing. Quietly. Rapidly.

And the world is barely noticing.

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🌻 What Can We Do? (It’s Simpler Than You Think)

• 🌼 Plant more flowers. Native ones. Ones bees love.
• 🚫 Avoid harmful pesticides. Even better, go organic.
• 🍯 Buy local honey. Support your neighborhood beekeepers.
• 🐝 Teach kids about bees. Let them grow up buzzing with awareness.

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💛 A Final Thought

That day, I didn’t just meet three bees.
I reconnected with a part of myself.
A boy who once held a queen bee in his hand. A boy who watched life fly. And die.

Maybe those bees were messengers. Maybe memories. Maybe both.
But one thing I know for sure—
When bees come calling, listen. They carry stories, and warnings… and hope.

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