When You Choose to Be Kind
Growing up as an only child for the first nine years of my life, I was the epicenter of affection at home. Pampered, yes—but not spoiled. My parents made sure kindness wasn’t just preached, it was practiced. Respecting others, especially those less fortunate—humans and animals alike—was second nature. Giving wasn’t a gesture; it was a way of life.
At 17, I left home for college in another city, moving into a boys’ hostel. What I thought would be an exciting new chapter quickly turned into a lesson in survival. The hostel was a melting pot—kids from village schools, expats from Dubai, and everyone in between. Diversity, as they say, slapped me in the face.
That kind, giving nature I was raised with? It quickly turned into a liability.
I became the “cooperative bank” of the hostel. Lending money to classmates—rich or broke—became a routine. Some needed cigarettes post-lunch, some needed date money, others just needed a hit. Lending turned into donating. My monthly budget crumbled by mid-month. Being kind had officially left me broke.
That’s when I adapted. I learned the language of transactions. I became a matcher. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Kindness had to earn its keep.
From Matcher to Married Life: Enter the Giver
This matcher mode lasted into my mid-30s, until I met my wife. An unapologetic, full-throttle giver.
Her giving nature was—how do I say this—disruptive at first. In our early marriage, I couldn’t understand why she went out of her way for everyone. And then COVID hit.
Locked indoors, her kindness kicked into afterburner mode—helping our maid, vegetable vendor, security guards, colleagues, and strangers. Meanwhile, I was between jobs, reaching out to contacts on LinkedIn and WhatsApp.
What followed was brutal silence. Blue ticks. Seen-but-ignored messages. Some of these people were folks I had helped in the past.
The matcher in me was livid. At least say no. Just reply!
Eventually, I landed a new role in a global pharmaceutical company. New function. New responsibilities. New people. I felt like a kindergarten kid all over again.
The anxiety of a new job, paired with working from home, left me stretched thin. My wife simply said, “Be kind to yourself.”
The Moment Kindness Came Full Circle
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I had a chance to hire for a new role. The job required niche industry experience, and I posted about it on LinkedIn. My inbox blew up with resumes—none relevant.
Some applicants didn’t even bother with a personalized note. Others had me on BCC, mass-sending their resumes to multiple recruiters. I smirked at the effort—or lack of it.
But still, I replied. To every single one.
I sent quick, personalized feedback explaining why their resume wasn’t a fit. Each reply took me under 30 seconds.
What happened next floored me. Within two days, my inbox filled with thank-you messages. “You’re the only one who replied. I really appreciate the feedback.”
That hit me.
Even a small act of kindness—something so basic—stood out in a world where ghosting is the norm.
Kindness Is a Choice. And It’s Contagious.
Here’s the thing: kindness is always a choice. It’s not a personality trait. It’s not weakness. It’s not something reserved for the privileged. And it shouldn’t be situational.
Being kind during tough times? That’s where the real strength lies.
The kindness I was raised with, the kindness my wife radiates—it quietly infected me. It took its time, but it stuck. And now, I know this for sure:
You may not always get kindness in return. But when you choose to be kind, you choose strength.