The Little Incident, Lu Hsun, Chinese, 1920
This is a very short story, but you will find that it is full
of meaning. It is particularly relevant to us in
Singapore at a time when we are eager to become
courteous, considerate and caring people instead of
being selfish and thoughtless. This story was set in
China more than 50 years ago, but the message it
carries is relevant for all times. An educated young
man from the upper social class learns a valuable
lesson in human caring from a simple rickshaw man.
Six years have slipped by since I came from the
country to the capital. During that time I have seen
and heard quite enough of so-called affairs of state;
but none of them made much impression on me. If
asked to define their influence, I can only say they
aggravated my ill temper and made me, frankly
speaking, more and more cynical.
One incident, however, struck me as significant, and
aroused me from my ill temper, so that even now I
cannot forget it.
It happened during the winter of 1917. A bitter north
wind was blowing, but, to make a living, I had to be
up and out early. I met scarcely a soul on the road,
and had great difficulty in hiring a rickshaw to take me
to the South Gate. Presently the wind dropped a little.
By now the loose dust had all been blown away,
leaving the roadway clean, and the rickshaw man
quickened his pace. We were just approaching the
South Gate when someone crossing the road was
entangled in our rickshaw and fell slowly to the
ground.
It was a woman, with streaks of white in her hair,
wearing ragged clothes. She had left the pavement
without warning to cut across in front of us, and
although the rickshaw man had made way, her
tattered jacket, unbuttoned and fluttering in the wind,
had caught on the shaft. Luckily the rickshaw man
pulled up quickly, otherwise she would certainly have
had a bad fall and been seriously injured.
She lay there on the ground, and the rickshaw man
immediately went to her aid. I did not think the old
woman was hurt, and there had been no witnesses to
Ito ay isang napakaikling kwento, ngunit
makikita mong puno ito ng kahulugan. Ito ay
partikular na mahalaga sa atin dito sa
Singapore, sa isang panahon kung kailan tayo
ay sabik na maging magalang, maunawain, at
mapagmalasakit na mga tao, imbes na
maging makasarili at walang pakialam. Ang
kwentong ito ay itinakda sa China, mahigit 50
taon na ang nakalipas, ngunit ang mensahe
nito ay mahalaga sa lahat ng panahon. Isang
edukadong binata mula sa mataas na antas
ng lipunan ay natututo ng mahalagang aral sa
pag-aalaga sa kapwa mula sa isang simpleng
lalaking kalesa.
Anim na taon nang nakalipas mula nong ako'y
lumipat mula sa probinsya patungong
kabisera. Sa panahong iyon, nakita at narinig
ko na ang sapat na tungkol sa mga tinatawag
na usaping pang-estado; ngunit wala sa mga
ito ang nag-iwan ng malaking impresyon sa
akin. Kung tatanungin tungkol sa kanilang
impluwensya, maaari ko lamang sabihin na
ipinalala nila ang aking masamang ugali at, sa
totoo lang, pinalala nila ang aking pagiging
mapaghinala.
Ngunit itong isang insidenteng nakatulong
saakin na makita ang mahalaga, at ginising
ako mula sa aking masamang ugali, kaya't
kahit ngayon ay hindi ko pa rin ito
makalimutan.
Nangyari ito noong taglamig ng 1917. Malakas
na hangin mula sa hilaga ang humihip, ngunit,
para makabuhay, kailangan kong bumangon
at lumabas nang maaga. Bihira akong
nakatagpo ng tao sa daan, at nahirapan akong
kumuha ng kalesa para dalhin ako sa South
Gate. Sa kasalukuyan, humihina ng kaunti ang
hangin. Nawala na ang maluwag na alikabok,
na nag-iwan sa kalsada na malinis, at
pinalakas ng lalaking kalesa ang kanyang
bilis. Kaka-approach lang namin sa South
Gate nang may isang tao na tumatawid sa
kalsada na nahulog sa aming kalesa at dahandahan na bumagsak sa lupa.
Ito ay isang matandang babae, na may mga
puti sa kanyang buhok, na nakasuot ng mga
punit-punit na damit. Umalis siya sa bangketa
nang walang babala at dumaan sa harap
namin, at kahit na nagbigay daan ang drayber
ng kalesa, ang kanyang punit-punit na jacket,
na hindi nakabutton at humahampas sa
hangin, ay nahagip sa baras. Sa kabutihang
what had happened, so I resented this overeagerness of the rickshaw man which might land him
in trouble and hold me up.
“It’s alright,” I said. “Go on.”
However, he paid no attention – perhaps he had not
heard – for he set down the shafts, and gently helped
the old woman to get up. Supporting her by one arm,
he asked:
“Are you all right?”
“I’m hurt.”
I had seen how slowly she fell, and was sure she
could not be hurt. I thought she must be pretending,
which was disgusting. The rickshaw man had asked
for trouble, and now he had it. He would have to find
his own way out.
But the rickshaw man did not hesitate for a minute
after the old woman said she was injured. Still holding
her arm, he helped her slowly forward. I was
surprised. When I looked ahead, I saw a police
station. Because of the high wind, there was no one
outside, so the rickshaw man helped the old woman
towards the gate.
Suddenly I had a strange feeling. His dusty, retreating
figure seemed larger at that instant. Indeed, the
further he walked the larger he appeared, until I had
to look up to him. At the same time he seemed
gradually to be exerting a pressure on me, which
threatened to overpower the small self under my furlined gown.
My strength seemed to be draining away as I sat
there motionless, my mind a blank, until a policeman
came out. Then I got down from the rickshaw.
The policeman came up to me and said, “Get another
rickshaw. He can’t pull you anymore.”
Without thinking, I pulled a handful of coppers from
my coat pocket and handed them to the policeman.
“Please give him these,” I said.
The wind had dropped completely, but the road was
still quiet. I walked along thinking, but I was almost
afraid to turn my thoughts on myself. Setting aside
what had happened earlier, what had I meant by that
handful of coppers? Was it a reward? Who was I to
judge the rickshaw man? I could not answer myself.
Even now, this remains fresh in my memory. It often
causes me distress, and makes me think about
myself. The military and political affairs of those years
I have forgotten as completely as the classics I read
in my childhood. Yet this incident keeps coming back
palad, mabilis na huminto ang drayber ng
kalesa, kung hindi ay tiyak na magkakaroon
siya ng masamang pagkakahulog at maaaring
malubhang masaktan.
Nakahiga siya sa lupa, at agad na lumapit sa
kanya ang drayber ng kalesa. Hindi ko akalain
na nasaktan ang matandang babae, at wala
namang mga saksi sa nangyari, kaya't naiinis
ako sa labis na pagkasabik ng drayber ng
kalesa na maaaring magdala sa kanya sa gulo
at humadlang sa akin. "Ayos lang siya," sabi
ko. "Tara na"
Gayunpaman, hindi niya pinansin – marahil ay
hindi niya narinig – dahil inilapag niya ang
mga baras, at dahan-dahan niyang tinulungan
ang matandang babae na makabangon.
Inalalayan siya ng isang braso, at tinanong
niya:
“Ayos ka lang ba?”
"Nasasaktan ako."
Nakita ko kung paano siya natumba, at
siguradong hindi siya masasaktan. Akala ko
nagpapanggap siya, nakakadistorbong isipin.
Humingi ng gulo ang lalaking kalesa.
Kailangan niyang maghanap ng paraan para
mabawasan ang gulo.
Ngunit hindi nag-atubiling ni isang minuto ang
drayber ng kalesa matapos sabihin ng
matandang babae na siya ay nasaktan.
Habang hawak pa rin ang kanyang braso,
dahan-dahang tinulungan niya siyang
umusad. Nang tumingin ako sa unahan,
nagulat ako, nakita ko ang isang istasyon ng
pulis. Dahil sa malakas na hangin, walang tao
sa labas, kaya't tinulungan ng lalaking kalesa
ang matandang babae patungo sa
tarangkahan.
Bigla akong nagkaroon ng kakaibang
pakiramdam. Ang kanyang maalikabok na
nag-aatras na pigura ay tila mas sa sandaling
iyon. Sa katunayan, habang siya'y naglalakad,
lalo siyang lumalaki, hanggang sa kailangan
ko nang tumingin pataas sa kanya. Kasabay
nito, tila unti-unti siyang naglalagay ng presyor
sa akin, na nagbabanta na mapagtagumpayan
ang munting sarili sa ilalim ng aking balabal na
may balahibo.
Parang unti-unting nawawala ang aking lakas
habang ako'y nakaupo roon na walang
kagalaw-galaw, walang laman ang isip ko,
hanggang na may lumabas na pulis.
Pagkatapos ay bumaba ako mula sa kalesa.
Lumapit sa akin ang pulis at sinabi, “Kumuha
ka ng isa pang kalesa.” "Hindi ka na siya hihila
sayo." Nang hindi nag-iisip, kumuha ako ng
isang dakot na barya mula sa bulsa ng aking
to me, often more clearly than in actual life, teaching
me shame, urging me to reform, and giving me fresh
courage and hope.
coat at ibinigay ito sa pulis. "Pakibigay mo ito
sa kanya," sabi ko.
Tahimik parin ang daan kahit tuluyan nang
huminto ang hangin. Naglakad ako habang
nag-iisip, ngunit halos natatakot akong iling
ang aking mga iniisip patungkol sa aking sarili.
Ipinagpaliban ang nangyari kanina, ano ang
ibig kong sabihin sa munting salaping iyon? Ito
ba ay isang gantimpala? Sino ako para
husgahan ang lalaking kalesa? Wala Akong
maisasagot sa sarili kong mga tanong.
Kahit ngayon, nananatili ito sa aking isipan.
Madalas itong nagdudulot sa akin ng
pagkalumbay at nagpapaisip sa akin tungkol
sa aking sarili. Ang mga usaping militar at
pampulitika ng mga taong iyon ay nakalimutan
ko na nang lubusan, katulad ng mga klasikal
na akdang binasa ko noong aking kabataan.
Ngunit ang insidenteng ito ay patuloy na
bumabalik sa akin, nagtuturo sa akin ng
kahihiyan, hinihimok akong magbago, at
nagbibigay sa akin ng bagong lakas at pagasa.