Choice

It's no wonder why disease and decease rhyme with each other! In my imagination, those two words are inseparable. Ever since I suffered from deadly Malaria in second year of college, even a little something like cold has been enough to get me thinking about death! I hadn't eaten anything in two days and as far as doctors are concerned, there's only one part of me that doesn't loathe them - my unconscious self! Lying on a very untidy bed, thinking about death, I felt my heart was going to stop. And just because I thought it would be really embarrassing to die of a stupid viral flu, I decided to act . . . I decided to eat!

I grabbed my wallet, started dragging my undead body towards a nearby juice center. It was almost six o'clock in the evening. The two hundred meter walk ignited a bit of hunger in me. Now I wanted to have two glasses of juice! But there was confusion about which one I should have! The fruit shouldn't be harmful to my condition but at the same time, it should be tongue-pleaser with thin fluid content and not too sour in taste. Pineapple fit the description perfectly. So I ordered a glass of it and decided that I would  at least think about a glass of Mango juice if the first one didn't turn me into a zombie!

I was staring at the vendor-in-action like a poor hungry street child, licking my watery lips a bit when I turned sideways and noticed a real poor hungry street child. And what I saw on that day is going to stay with me till the day I die!

The kid's head was completely shaved. He must have been about 11 years old. He was dressed in a typical poor man's dress code. And I think he was a victim or dare I say, a beneficiary of child labor. A crumpled, rightfully earned, amber-colored note of Rs. 10 was the pride of his appearance. I can guess how that single note might be the only and all the wealth he possessed. And he was about to give it away to buy a samosa.

I live in a third-world country, so this sort of thing shouldn't be a special incident right? After all, there are hundreds of kids like him, earning their own bread, sacrificing what we call as childhood. But what made this so special for me was the next five minutes.

The kid looked sure that he wanted a samosa and Rs. 10 could only get him one piece of it. There were around 30 samosas, well cooked and artistically arranged around each other. I couldn't notice an ounce of difference — neither in the shape nor in the size and yet the kid spent the next ten minutes in choosing which one of those 30 he wanted. He was joyously discussing with vendor about which one he thought was the best among those 30. His fixation of eyes made you feel as if he was talking to them, asking them if they wanted to be a part of his life! Or may be he was just searching for the biggest one that could satisfy his hunger, bring some sleep and revitalize him for the next day's hard work.

Whatever it was, I was sure of one thing: Never in my life, I could display such level of intensity and joy in making a choice. The happiness is surely in the little things but such little things? If you asked any sane person, he would tell you that there wasn't even a choice, in fact, he didn't have any choice in his life. His life itself was like death. But he didn't believe that, did he? He created a choice out of nothing and in the process, he created hope that may be some day, he will have a better life to live. He chose to be happy!

He finally decided on a samosa and ran away. And I almost uttered, "What a lucky samosa!"

I grabbed my glass of juice, drank it and quietly walked away, not having the guts to order a second one! As I was walking back, suddenly one thing was clear to me, "No matter what! There is always a choice, the good choice!"