A Good 'Samaritan'

During my first five years, my parents and I lived in Mumbai (formerly Bombay). We lived in a high-rise flat, on 2nd floor. Next to the building was a very busy street. All day, people were seen milling and walking on the sidewalk, by our building.

One day, an incident happened when I was about 1-1/2 years old.

Our residence front door was ajar. Apparently one of my parents had just walked in. They eventually became immersed in their important discussion about something, forgetting to close the door.

Oblivious to them, I sauntered to the door and managed to slip out, climbing down the stairs like a crab.

A man was walking down the street when he happened to glance at something that appeared out of ordinary: a toddler standing precariously at the edge of the curb, innocently watching cars whizzing by. Immediately concerned, he looked around and did not see any parent(s) nearby.

Upon quickly grabbing me, he asked the first floor resident whose baby I was. The resident peered at me and motioned with his finger upwards. The man carried me and climbed to 2nd floor.

Seeing the door ajar, he cautiously peeked in. He saw my parents talking.

You could imagine the astonishment on their faces when the man asked, "Is this your baby?"