The Extra Mile

Shakespeare once reminded us that life is but a stage; listen closely, and beneath those familiar words, you can hear the soft hum of entrances and exits. Each of us arrives in medias res, as the Latins say—dropped into the middle of a vast, unfolding drama whose beginning we never witnessed and whose ending we shall not see. The world continues before us and after us; we hold only our scene, our cue, our momentary patch of light. And yet, this “stage” is also a journey. Marcel Proust, with his gentle, probing wisdom, told us that the true voyage is not in discovering new lands, but in discovering new eyes.

It was with such reflections swirling about me that Dr Krishna Yedula approached with a request: would I help shape into words the story of the Society for Cyberabad Security Council (SCSC) and its work during the pandemic—a story he had lived breath by breath as Secretary-General in those turmoiled COVID months? I agreed without hesitation. How could one refuse? For nothing in our lifetime has equalled that invisible storm that brought the machinery of the world to a standstill, stripped us of illusions, and forced us to confront the fragility of breath itself. To revisit those days was to revisit the human spirit under trial.

The SCSC is a rare and admirable institution—an alliance between the Police and the corporations of Hyderabad’s newest technological nerve centre, called Cyberabad, created to address the shared but often neglected domains of safety, responsiveness, and civic well-being. Its Chairman during the pandemic, Mr V. C. Sajjanar—later entrusted with leading the vast Telangana Road Transport Corporation—was a leader both steady and gracious, the kind of presence that turns anxiety into resolve.

When I asked Mr Sajjanar what the theme of such a book should be, he replied without the slightest pause: “The Extra Mile.” The clarity of his answer carried the weight of something larger, as though Lord Brahma Himself had leaned in to whisper a reminder—that calamities are not punishments but awakenings, moments when the human spirit is summoned to evolve. And so the book began to take shape.

It took time, for memory is a fragile archive, easily smudged by pain, haste and the passing of days. We wanted the story to hold every essential detail: the abandoned bodies given last rites by enlightened souls; the starving street dogs fed during the lockdown by hands that refused to look away; the migrant workers trudging out of a city that had forgotten how deeply it relied on them, who were offered food, dignity, and care; and the orphaned children whose education was quietly ensured by strangers who became guardians. Each thread deserved its place in the light.

Finally, on a luminous December evening in 2025, Friday the 5^th, the book was launched by the Honourable Governor of Telangana, Shri Jishnu Dev Varma—a prince of the old Tripura lineage—alongside senior officers, SCSC’s founding leaders, technologists, volunteers, and countless citizens who had experienced both sorrow and solidarity during those months. The Convention Hall at Hotel Daspalla—named after the ancient coastal kingdom of hills, forests, and rivers, now modern-day Vishakhapatnam—radiated a sense of purpose fulfilled. We chose Dr A. P. J. Abdul Kalam’s line as the epigraph: “Extraordinary people are those ordinary people who do extra work.” It was the perfect gateway into what I wished to share when my moment at the podium arrived.

The extra mile is not about an outward sprint; it is an inward gesture—a quiet vow: I will give a little more than what is asked, not for applause, but for the integrity of the act. This vow reveals itself in the smallest details of everyday life. The young engineer who notices the server room overheating does not walk past, murmuring, “Not my department”; he alerts the right people and prevents a failure no one else imagined. The professor who senses confusion clouding her students’ minds prepares a simple, clarifying handout, even though no syllabus demands it. The doctor finishing a weary shift sits with an anxious patient for a few unhurried minutes, knowing that reassurance can heal where medicine cannot.

In offices, the extra mile often appears as initiative: the colleague who gathers data and proposes solutions rather than rehearsing complaints. At home, it is the person who stays back after the party laughter has faded and quietly restores order—washes dishes, clears garbage, and rearranges furniture and coverings. For the farmer, it is sharpening tools late at night so that the next day’s labour is more productive. For the shopkeeper, it is letting a customer leave with twenty rupees pending because humanity weighs more than arithmetic. For a teacher, it is being ever ready to help the slowest student.

The extra mile has little to do with working longer or seeking recognition. It is about arriving at the right moment when needed, noticing what others overlook, and repairing what was not broken by you. It involves choosing quality even when no one will ever know. Here, the Bhagavad Gita enters like dawn light and gives the shloka— Karmanyeva adhikaras te ma phaleshu kadachana (2.47), which explains the concept of Nishkama Karma—action without attachment to reward.. Our authority rests in the action alone; the fruit is never ours to claim. To walk the extra mile is simply to embody this truth. It is the Gita quietly breathing through our everyday lives—devotion not in grand gestures, but in small, steadfast, selfless acts that gently refine the world from within.

For in the end, it is not the magnitude of a deed but the purity of intention that shapes character. And character, slowly built through unnoticed choices, earns trust and affection without ever demanding them. Those who walk the extra mile never walk it alone; their sincerity gathers companions, lightens burdens, knits communities, and makes the long road gentler for all.

And perhaps that is why one eventually realises: the extra mile is never crowded—because it is walked not by the strong, but by the sincere.

May the brave volunteers, the selfless leaders, and all the souls who risked their own safety and comfort to lift another out of fear or darkness be blessed with lives of abundance! May their courage ripple outward, inspiring others to step forward when the world trembles. And may their tribe increase—steadily, silently, like lamps lighting other lamps—until compassion becomes our civilisation’s most natural instinct. For it is in precisely such moments, when ordinary people choose to give more than is asked, that the extra mile reveals itself—not as the heroic road of a select few, but as the true path on which humanity moves forward together.