The Stranger At The Signal

The traffic as usual was enormous. I was waiting for the signal to glow red. The red digital timer below it displayed a waiting time of 120 seconds.
“Do you know where Saraswati Bhavan is?” a middle-aged man approached me and asked.
“No,” I said. I had never heard of any Saraswati Bhavan all my life.
“I am new to this city and have lost my way. Will you help me?” He offered his hand. I had to shake it.
“Hmmm,” I murmured reluctantly. I looked at the timer. 93 seconds more
“Do you know Hindi?”
I feigned disinterest, started looking elsewhere. He seemed illiterate. 80 seconds more.
“Are you returning from you college?”
My eyes zipped back to his face and zoomed into his eyes. How did he know?
“Do you live around?”
Forcing fear out of my voice and replacing it with rudeness, I said, “How does it concern you? Get lost.” 57 seconds left.
“Are you a Hindu or Muslim?”
He had crossed his limit. “Get aside. I have to go,” I shouted, pushed him aside and took two steps forward. He grasped my left hand.
With a violent jerk, I rescued my wrist out of his grip. 42 seconds left.
I decided to jaywalk through the moving traffic.
“Where are you going?” followed his voice.
I nearly missed being hit by a bus.
On reaching the other side of the road, I turned back. He hadn’t moved. His face suppressed a sinister smile. The traffic stopped after 10 seconds. I turned and rushed back home.
I have never stopped on my way to help anyone ever since.