India, Dec. 26 -- Every generation produces its own quiet rebels - people who never make it to history books but shape the moral fabric of society. One such figure was an old station master from Punjab, who lived through colonial rule, Independence, and the turbulent 1970s. He left behind no monument, yet his story speaks to the value of dissent, humour, and everyday courage. Born in the early 20th century, he grew up in a world bound by rituals, superstitions, and unquestioned tradition. But he was of a different mould. He was an iconoclast, ahead of his time. Rituals and superstitions held little charm for him. At a time when families prided themselves on dozens of children, he limited his own to two. The railways became his profession, and he rose to the rank of station master. Yet, his passion was cricket. For him, it was more than a sport. It symbolised fairness, discipline, and unpredictability. For all his humour and sharp opinions, he long regretted one thing: That as a railwayman under colonial rule, he could not join the freedom struggle. Decades later, during the Emergency, destiny handed him his own moment of rebellion. India in the years 1975-77 was a place where newspapers carried blank spaces instead of editorials. To dissent was to invite suspicion. Yet, the station master, now retired, continued his morning routine - newspapers in hand, no-holds-barred political opinions flowing freely. One day, apparently, a fellow walker decided his political opinions were a conspiracy against the government. A complaint was filed. Soon after came the dreaded midnight knock. Hauled off to jail under a draconian law. For a few days, he languished in custody. When the Emergency ended, the case was quietly forgotten. But he returned to his community a changed figure. Neighbours, who once feared seeing him due to no-holds-barred criticism, now spoke of his courage. He had become, inadvertently, a freedom fighter who joined the struggle 30 years later. What lingers is that dissent need not always roar. Sometimes it whispers even during a morning walk, reminding us that fairness matters. Even in modern times, when criticism is considered conspiracy, his story carries resonance. Freedom is not only about casting a vote; it is about the daily right to question, complain, and even grumble without fear. History celebrates generals and politicians, but societies endure because of quieter figures - teachers, clerks, farmers, and yes, station masters - who refuse to surrender their right to think aloud. Their greatness lies in ordinariness, in living consistently with values when compromise would be easier. He died short of a century, leaving no public legacy. But he represented a generation of Indians whose resistance was unspectacular yet essential. They may not appear in history books, but they remind us that democracy is not defended only in legislatures or courts. It is defended in drawing rooms, on park benches, and in conversations during morning walks. At that moment, he, my maternal grandfather, became what every democracy needs - an unlikely rebel, armed only with words. His life is a reminder that ordinary people, in ordinary settings, do also preserve freedoms sometimes as effectively as the celebrated heroes we immortalise....