Helping Someone

I’d like to describe a time last winter when I helped an elderly neighbour of mine, a retired teacher called Rustam aka who lives alone on the floor below. One evening there was a power cut across our whole district that lasted almost two days, and temperatures dropped well below zero. On the first night, I noticed there was no light at all in his flat, which was unusual, because he usually has a candle or a torch. I knocked on his door, and when he eventually answered, he was wrapped in several blankets and clearly very cold. He told me his phone had died, so he couldn’t call his son, who lives in another city. So I brought him down a portable heater that runs on gas, charged his phone with my power bank, and called his son for him. For the next two days I took him hot tea and food twice a day. Honestly, it didn’t take much effort, but it obviously meant a great deal to him. I felt a mixture of satisfaction and slight guilt — satisfaction because I’d made a difference, but guilt because I realised I’d hardly spoken to him before that, even though we’d been neighbours for years. Since then, I make a point of checking on him every week.

Hikoyani o‘z-o‘zini tahlil (guilt) bilan chuqurlashtiring.