I’d crashed my car into a homeless woman. She spent her final moments showing me kindness.

Maverick’s story

It was a cold November morning, and I had travelled with my family to our ancestral temple in a village in Tamil Nadu. My sister’s 11-month-old baby was to be tonsured for the first time – a religious head-shaving that in Hinduism is a way of discarding the evil eye and removing any negativity from past lives; a new start.

My wife drove, but asked me to park the car while she went inside with our son and her parents. I walked around the front of the vehicle and slid into the passenger seat. But when I tried to park, I felt resistance. As I pressed down on the accelerator, I noticed a middle-aged man running towards me, waving his arms frantically as he yelled for me to move the car backwards.

My mind raced as I reversed. I prayed silently that I hadn’t hurt anyone.

It was only when I got out of the car that I saw her. The thin, frail woman who now lay on the ground, shaking and murmuring. Panicked, my mind tried to make sense of how she’d come to be there – she must have sat down, assuming I’d already parked – and how badly injured she was. She curled into a foetal position as I sat down beside her and gently placed her head on my lap.

“Does it hurt anywhere, paati (granny)?” I asked.

She nodded, pointing to her leg.

I slowly pulled back the torn sari near her knee. The flesh was missing.

“You’ve been hurt, but we’ll take care of it,” I promised.

“No one will take care of me … just let me sit,” she pleaded.

Villagers started to gathe