Selfless service is the highest form of penance, sacrifice, and worship

Received in one of my WhatsApp Groups.  Before reading the story... take a deep breath... and feel this moment...

The Story of Service

I was working in Chennai, and my ancestral home was in Bhopal. Suddenly, I got a call from my father asking me to come home immediately, saying it was something extremely important. I rushed to the railway station and tried to get a reservation, but due to summer holidays, not a single seat was available.

Right in front of me stood the Grand Trunk Express. It was packed too, but what could I do? I had to reach home somehow. Without thinking much, I pushed into one of the general sleeper class coaches. I assumed the ticket examiner wouldn't say anything in such a crowded situation. The condition inside was terrible. I somehow managed to find a berth where a gentleman was lying down. I humbly requested him to let me sit, and he smiled, sat up, and said, "No problem, you can sit here."

I thanked him and sat quietly in the corner. Soon the train started moving. Within a few minutes, everyone settled down and began opening their food. The aroma of food filled the coach. I looked at my co-passenger and decided to strike up a conversation.

I said, "My name is Alok, and I'm a scientist at ISRO. I had to rush home urgently today, so I boarded the sleeper class, otherwise I never travel below the air-conditioned class."

He smiled and said, "Wow! So I'm traveling with a scientist. My name is Jagmohan Rao. I'm headed to Warangal, near which my village is located. I often go home on Saturdays."

Then he opened his bag and took out a lunchbox. He said, "This is homemade food. Would you like to have some?"

I hesitated and politely declined, taking out a sandwich from my bag. The name "Jagmohan Rao" seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it at the moment.

After some time, everyone had their meals and tried to sleep. Opposite our berth was a family—father, mother, and two grown children. They too had their meal and laid down to sleep. I crouched near the foot of the berth playing a game on my mobile.

The train was running at full speed when suddenly I noticed the gentleman in the opposite berth, around 55–57 years old, start convulsing. Foam came from his mouth. His family woke up in panic and tried to give him water, but he couldn't speak. I shouted, "Is there a doctor? It's an emergency!"

Where would one find a doctor in a sleeper coach at night? The family, helpless, began to cry. Just then, my co-passenger Jagmohan Rao woke up and asked me, "What happened?"

I quickly told him everything. Hearing this, he jumped up, pulled his suitcase from under the berth, and opened it. To my surprise, he took out a stethoscope and checked the patient's heartbeat. His face turned serious. Without a word, he took out an injection and administered it, then began performing CPR—compressing the man's chest, using a handkerchief over his mouth to give him artificial respiration.

After a few minutes, the man's convulsions reduced.

Dr. Jagmohan Rao then took out some pills from his suitcase and said to the man's son, "Son, don't panic hearing this. Your father suffered a severe heart attack. He was in danger, but I've given him an injection. Give him these medicines."

The son asked, astonished, "But who are you?"

He replied, "I'm a doctor. I'll write down his condition and the medication on a prescription. Please take him to a good hospital at the next station."

He pulled out a prescription pad from his bag, and when I read the heading, my memory returned.

It read: Dr. Jagmohan Rao, Cardiologist, Apollo Hospital, Chennai.

Then I remembered—just a few days ago, when I had taken my father to Apollo Hospital for treatment, I had heard of Dr. Jagmohan Rao. He was the senior-most, highly reputed cardiologist there. Appointments with him took months. I looked at him in awe—such a great doctor was traveling in general class while I, a mere third-tier scientist, had been boasting about always traveling in AC class. Yet he was so humble.

Soon the train reached the next station. The elderly heart patient and his family got off with assistance from the ticket examiner and medical help called to the station.

The train moved again. Curious, I asked him, "Doctor sahib, you can comfortably travel in air-conditioned class. Why general class?"

He smiled and said, "When I was young and lived in the village, I saw that trains never had doctors, especially in the lower classes. So whenever I travel, I go by general class. You never know when someone might need me. I became a doctor to serve people. What's the use of our education if we can't be of help?"

The rest of the journey passed in conversation. It was 4 AM. Warangal was approaching. He quietly left, having shared smiles, relieved pain, and served humanity anonymously, heading toward his village. I sat there, still savoring the aura he had left behind.

Now I understood why, despite the crowd, there was a special fragrance in the coach. It was the aura of that great soul who filled both my journey and my thinking with meaning.

We will change, the era will change.

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"Selfless service is the highest form of penance, sacrifice, and worship."