I feel awestruck even to this day, when I recall what happened almost 26 years ago. I went to my aunt’s place to invite her to a function in our home. I still wonder why and how an 11-year-old girl was chosen for this task, at a time when neither proper transportation facilities were available, nor means of communication like mobile phones. My aunt’s place is 60 km away from my village. I am unable to recall how exactly I found her home in that big city! But I definitely remember what happened next.I left my aunt’s house in the evening by 5 pm (even though she tried to convince me to spend the night). I headed towards my next stop: my grandmother’s house, 65 km away. I still wonder how I might have convinced my aunt to allow me to travel at that time! I went to the bus stop and waited for some time. After waiting for almost half an hour a bus arrived, but it was not a direct bus to my granny’s village. However, I asked the conductor and came to know that it goes to a place that’s near my destination. I decided to travel in that bus, thinking I would board another bus once I reached.I reached the place the conductor had mentioned in 30 minutes and got down at the bus stop, waiting for another bus that could take me to my granny’s village. But even 40-45 later, no bus turned had come. I started walking around the bus stop, asking about all the buses that arrived. Slowly, I was getting nervous.While this was happening, there was a group of people who were watching my activities and were eager to know if I had lost my way or separated from my parents. One old lady from that group called me and asked what my problem was. I explained everything to her and asked if she knew my granny’s village, and what time that bus was supposed to come. She replied that the bus is not regular; there is no guarantee that it will come everyday. I got very upset, though I don’t remember if I cried. But to my surprise, she invited me back to her home and said she will make arrangements to send me to my granny’s place, which is just 10 km from her village. I agreed happily (Though thinking about it now, it seems odd that I could have taken such a decision).A bus came and all of us boarded. In about 30 minutes, we reached a small village called “Ekamba” (Ek+Amba= one mango). It was already 9:30 or 10 pm. There was no proper road or electricity. I just followed that old lady. We reached her home in few minutes and I was made to sit on a small cot in a verandah full of bags of grain, with one or two buffaloes and a cute dog. I remember that dog as it started smelling my legs and wagging its tail looking at me and jumping on the old lady with love. The old lady made sure I had my dinner properly. It was north Karnataka jowar roti with hot milk and some pickle. It was summer and I think they had a mango tree in their field, because the smell of ripe mangoes filled whole verandah! My new grandma gave me two mangoes to eat after the dinner. I spent the night on a small cot, sleeping deeply. The next morning, by the time I woke up, my new grandma had spoken to a milk van driver who was from my grandma’s village, asking if he could take me with him safely. After he agreed, she made me sit in his van. I said bye to all the family members and the villagers, and left.I don’t remember what kind of feelings I had that day. In few minutes I reached my grandma’s home. She was surprised to see me that early in the morning, and her surprise turned to shock when I told her what had happened. She thanked God for my safe homecoming and probably scolded my mom and aunt for their decisions!Ambika K.C. is Deputy Director, Karnataka State Audit & Accounts Department, Government of Karnataka.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.