I am on my way from Karachi to Hyderabad right now, writing this from the road.
As usual, I had no cash in my wallet.
At the end of Shahrah-e-Bhutto, the toll is Rs. 100. No M-Tag. The booth guy had no card option, no Easypaisa, no JazzCash, no bank transfer. Not allowed, he said.
So he called his senior. The senior was busy somewhere else.
4 to 5 minutes passed. The car behind me kept honking. Again and again.
I sat there thinking: he must be so frustrated with me.
When the senior finally came, he said, “Transfer the money to any policeman, and he will pass it on to us.” Fine. But the horn kept going, so I asked him to open the barrier. “I’ll stand right after it and pay. I’m not running away.”
The senior walked to the car behind me.
And that man, the one I thought was frustrated, handed over Rs. 100. On my behalf.
The barrier opened. I stopped after it, as promised. He didn’t stop. He just drove on.
I raised my hand from behind. That was all I had.
Then came the part I want to talk about.
For the next 3 to 4 kilometers, he drove at 80, maybe 90 km/h. I could have overtaken him easily.
I didn’t.
Not because I couldn’t. Because he had done me an ehsaan. And overtaking him right after, flooring it past the man who had just paid for me, would have felt like saying: “Thanks for the 100 rupees, now watch me go.”
So I stayed behind him. That was my small way of saying thank you.
At the next turn he turned off. Only then did I drive the way I normally do.
Here is what I took from it:
When someone helps you, the way you carry yourself in front of them says more than your words do. Don’t show off in front of the person who lifted you. Don’t flex your speed, your money, your status. Let them feel that their favor was respected.
And sometimes the person honking behind you isn’t your enemy. I was so sure of it.
Umar H.
Originally posted on Facebook on 2 October 2026.
