Blog

Today my father would have been 90 years old and I always remember the stories he shared. It reminds me that every journey holds a story. Some are written in the places we visit, while others come from the memories that resurface along the way. Sometimes, a simple train ride can transport us not just to a new destination, but back in time—reminding us of who we are, where we come from, and the lessons that shape us.

During one of my regular visits to England, I found myself on a train bound for Southampton. As I gazed out the window, watching the rolling hills, charming villages, and open pastures pass by, a memory surfaced—one my father had shared with a smile years ago about one of his adventures touring England.

In the 1960s, my father and his friends had recently moved from Fiji, then a British colony, to Southampton, England. What my father and his friends encountered was they had experienced segregation of coloured people in Fiji like many places around the world at that time. There were exclusive country clubs, places to sit and ownership of land and running administration. Coloured people were always looked down upon at the time.

While in England, my father and his friends had an exploring mindset, they wanted to experience what England had to offer. Wanting to embrace the fashion of the time, they dressed in sharp suits, looking every bit the part of stylish young men. Leaving Southampton by train one day, they decided to explore some parts, purchased their train tickets, and eagerly boarded, ready for an adventure to the western countryside.

As the train made its way along the tracks, the conductor entered their car, checking tickets. When he reached my father and his friends, he examined their tickets and told them they needed to move to the back cars and then continued down the aisle checking other passenger’s tickets and not telling them to move to the back. My father and his friends exchanged perplexed glances. They had come from a British colony where people of color faced systemic barriers, and now, here in England, they were experiencing the same discrimination? No, they would not stand for this. They would be defiant! Inspired by Gandhi’s philosophy of peaceful resistance, they decided to hold their ground. This was their moment to make a statement against oppression. The conductor would have to call the police in order to have them move.

The conductor never returned, and they remained in their seats, triumphant in their quiet act of defiance. A situation where they could later recount their story to friends and family, they would speak of their dignity, their refusal to be marginalized, and their small victory in the face of injustice. They were, in their own way, liberators.

There was just one problem. At a certain point in the journey, the train split, with different cars heading in separate directions. My father and his friends had unknowingly seated themselves in the wrong section. The conductor hadn’t been enforcing segregation—he had simply been guiding them to the correct car for their intended destination. While their intentions had been noble, the situation had been entirely different from what they had assumed.

This story serves as a reminder that perspective shapes our experiences, and sometimes, what we perceive as injustice may simply be a misunderstanding. It also highlights the importance of standing up for what we believe in, even if we later realize the situation wasn’t as we first thought.

But beyond that, it teaches us to pause, observe, and reflect—whether on a train ride, in a conversation, or in the journey of life itself. When we slow down and take in the world around us, we open ourselves to learning from the past, appreciating the present, and embracing the unexpected lessons that come our way.

So the next time you find yourself staring out a train window, lost in thought, remember that stories are everywhere—waiting to be relived, reinterpreted, and shared. This is a lesson from my upcoming next book, ‘Calm and Sense is Common Sense: 30 Life Lessons to Fulfillment’.