I would like to document a very interesting experience that had a long time ago.
This was somewhere in the year 1999 or 2000. I was a second year medical student. For many of the activities that required acting or music, I usually found myself in the group that made props. We had precious few tools in those days. Power tools were a luxury. Power tools in the hands of students had not even crossed our minds. We used to use hacksaw blades (without the handle), when they broke, we used the broken blades to save us the trip back to the hardware store seven kilometers away.
It is in this scenario that we decided to borrow a drill from the faculty, and none less than the Principal of our college. I think it was a Black and Decker drill. I remember being drawn to the name... "Black and Decker". Sounded so good when it was vocalized... He readily gave it to us, intact in its original packaging.
I tried to look after it and treat it like a treasured possession. However despite my best efforts it picked up a few scratches, and a blotch of black paint on it. And when I did decide to return it, I found out to my horror that I had lost both the drill key, and the original packaging. I hunted around in the mess we had made in LCR, turned over every bit of cardboard, rummaged among all the waste, but the key and the box were gone.
I had no idea what to do next. I however decided to make a trip down Gandhi road to Long Bazaar, and finally landed as a skinny nineteen year old, at the entrance of Hardware and Mills Stores (HMS) Vellore. I cannot remember what I said to the gentleman over there, but I remember him sending up one of his workers into his upstairs stores. I remember him tossing down an empty black and decker carboard box. I remember the feeling of sheer incredulity that I felt, realizing what he was doing for me. I remember him promising to order a drill key (which I picked up from him two weeks later). The principal got back his drill complete with Black and Decker packaging and key.
Even now, when I think of the extent to which he went to help a clueless lad, I am amazed. Seventeen years and more than seventeen kilos later, I still visit HMS stores. I have bought several power tools from him. He is now a dealer for many other companies such as BOSCH and Ferm. What keeps me going is not only the present, but it is also the memory of what happened seventeen years ago, when he went out of his way to give me an empty cardboard box.