2026 and Gratitude

2026 dawned here in the US under a gloomy, cloud-laden sky, with temperatures dipping to –2 and –4 degrees Celsius. The cold made me pause and ask myself what I truly want to savour in this new year. Should I consider family ties, love, joy, health, achievements, or goals met or not met? As I sifted through these thoughts, one feeling rose quietly but insistently within me — gratitude. Gratitude for the unexpected people who, without knowing anything about my struggles, offered me a moment of warmth when I most needed it. One such incident of gratitude in 2015 returned to me vividly as the year began, reminding me how a single gesture can illuminate an entire stretch of darkness.

I remembered the desk manager at the Samrat Hotel in Delhi. After my long flight and late‑night arrival, he smiled warmly and said, “Hope your travel was alright and you had a good journey. Make yourself at home, and if you want a sandwich or so, let me know—I’ll arrange it.” I didn’t need anything to eat, but that smile and those simple words warmed me more than he could have imagined.

Before reaching Delhi, I had been battling for a No Objection Certificate to travel to the University of Gothenburg, which had offered me a six‑week visiting lectureship. Around the same time, my paper was accepted for the NEMLA conference in Toronto, and I had found an excellent flight deal that would allow me to attend the conference in Canada and then travel to Sweden via the United States. I already had multiple‑entry visas for the US and Canada. But the Swedish visa became a point of contention. The University administration  due to some personal grudge of the University leader, seemed determined to make my life difficult. The University  had already delayed sending my scholars’ thesis for adjudication, removed me from the Director’s post of the Study in India Program, and now ensured that I would not easily receive the NOC required for my travel.

Following the leader’s  instructions, the department head refused to grant me leave, and I was tied down with examination duties. Finally, on 22 April, around 4 p.m., I received the NOC—just a day before I was scheduled to conduct exams on 23 and 25 April. I decided to take a chance: fly to Delhi on the evening of the 23rd, return on the night of the 24th, and try to secure the visa on the morning of the 24th. I booked the 7 p.m. flight accordingly.

That evening, I barely made it to the airport through heavy traffic. Yet again, kindness found me. The Air India flight desk manager called me, learned that I was travelling from Pondicherry, waited near the gates, and ensured I could board.

In Delhi, when I reached the Swedish Embassy, the officer I met immediately said I could collect the visa that very evening—and that I did not need to pay the fees, as I was a guest of the University. Before going, I had called Prof. Åke Sander, my host, who simply told me to go ahead; he would speak to the officials there.

Looking back now, what stays with me is not the stress, the pettiness, or the obstacles — though they were real and at times deeply wounding. What lingers instead are the small, luminous gestures that cut through that darkness: a smile at a hotel desk, a flight manager waiting at a gate, a professor’s steady reassurance, an embassy officer’s unexpected generosity. These moments reminded me that even when institutions falter or individuals in power choose unkindness, the world is still held together by people who act out of simple humanity. Their kindness did more than help me travel; it helped me breathe again, helped me remember who I was beneath the strain. As 2026 began, this memory returned to me like a quiet lantern — a reminder that grace often arrives unannounced, and that even the briefest warmth can become a lasting shelter.