Chotu

A smile, twinkle in the eyes. That's all it takes to live life the way it's meant to be lived.

A few days back, I learnt perhaps the most important lesson of life through an experience I doubt I’ll ever forget. It was a beautiful moment which makes me feel ashamed of myself at times, and I wish to share it with everyone I can.

It’s very common to see children selling newspapers at traffic signals, and one day, a kid barely four feet tall knocked softly on my car’s window. I pulled the shades down and his face made me look at him for a second too long.

It was dirty and scruffy, but it shone with a radiance I had not seen anywhere before. He was probably six years old and it was clear he had not eaten in days, but his eyes held such hope and vitality for his future that I suddenly felt old and lazy.

He barely reached my window even though he was standing on his tiptoes, and offered a newspaper to me with a bright smile. Instead of whining for money or complaining, he simply said, “Didi, Aaj din kitna accha hai na?”

I was stunned for a moment before I smiled back at him and pulled out my purse. But apparently, fate was against me that day, because the only notes I had in my purse were that of hundreds; three of them given to me by my mum for a movie. I asked my driver for change, but he only had those of five hundred.

I felt my heart sink, dreading to meet the little boy’s eyes. I had probably robbed him of his precious customers as the signal was about to change, and I had nothing to give him.

As slowly as I could, I turned, not being able to look at him in the face. But before I could say anything, he stopped me. “Chutte nahi hai kya?”

Shamefacedly, I nodded. I expected him to give me a scornful glance before going away, so when I heard a small laugh, I looked up in surprise.

He beamed at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Koi nahi. Agli baar le lena.”

I just stared, barely able to form sentences. He stepped back as my car moved on and I craned my neck to look at him again.

Just when we went around the turn, I saw him, standing on the footpath. He looked at me and gave me a thumbs up, beaming as he disappeared from view.

He probably hadn’t had a proper meal in his life. He had to sell newspapers for income, and might not have a family. He couldn’t go to school, couldn’t eat chocolates whenever he wished to, couldn’t sleep on a real bed.

And yet he was ready to face every new day, every new struggle with hope in his eyes and light on his face. Thinking of him makes me feel ashamed of myself, thinking of the few billion times I sulked because of irrelevant unfulfilled demands.

Chotu, or as he exists in my memory, was not seen on that traffic light ever again. Every time I cross that chauraha, armed with spare change, I wish with all my heart to see his shining eyes and radiant face. And I will not give up hope. He taught me that.

Happiness is not in smart phones and laptops, in theaters and malls. It is in the tiny pleasures of living which we probably don’t even notice. It is in pretty flowers, in the pitter patter of the rain, in the smiles of billions of chotus.

So now, when I feel like sulking ever again, I think of the little guy who’ll always live in my memories as a teacher who taught me to count my blessings. And I know that I’ll see him again someday, a day when he’ll not be on the streets, but shining as bright as a star.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Shannon]

Thank you for simple, yet profound message.

[busterlee]

Thank you for that. Sometimes it's hard to judge just what a bad day is but I've had a few. Even though today seemed to be spiraling down and fading into darkness, suddenly after reading your story I remembered the light. Thank you again.