The Color Yellow

He sat there on the narrow sand-laden sidewalk on a hot summer day. I stopped my bike at the red signal, close to him. He was hardly three and all he wore was a kameez reaching his ankles, embellished with dirt and blots. He ardently peeled the skin off an almost rotten orange, which he had gotten hold of with a hefty boon of luck. In doing so, his entire lucre of the day - a Rs. 2 coin - which otherwise he would have treasured, had slipped off his hands into the little puddle of mud under his feet, but he remained unconcerned. Perhaps even at that tender age the kid realized it is not the money that’s precious but what it buys, and the best he would ever get to buy with it is a chunk of food. Standing there, I unintentionally gazed at him, pitying his plight. And as if my gaze had mysteriously beckoned him, he looked up, straight into my eyes. I felt a jolt. Those empty hollow eyes were clearly devoid of any dreams. Instead they were amassed with questions. And as if these phantoms had been waiting for ages to be unleashed, they echoed in my mind…

Him: What was my sin?
Me: What are you talking about?
Him: Why was I born here, and granted such a despicable life?
Me: Everybody’s got his fate; you can’t rid yourself of it.
Him: I could have born elsewhere, anywhere. I could have born with this rich merchant who owns this huge plaza across the road. I too could have relished all the luxuries of life like his children do! But why me? Why was I chosen for this destiny? Whom should I question, whom should I complain to? Is this justice?
Me: Son you ask me about things that are beyond my authority – or for that matter - beyond any human’s authority. To this day, none of us has even been able to comprehend this phenomenon.
Him: OK, should I ask you something that’s very much within a human’s command?
Me: Ask away.
Him: You see this brand new air-conditioned Mercedes car standing right next to you, and the middle-aged fellow driving it?
Me: Yes I do. What about him?
Him: He owns a factory. My father used to work there, from six in the morning till almost mid-night. He was forced to work extra hours, without ever being paid for them. He was burdened with four laborers worth of toil, and was kept convinced throughout that others will be joining him soon, and that never happened. And in return for all this labor, what he earned was not sufficient to even feed an infant like myself aptly. He died last year owing to excessive hard work his health won’t endure, and this man never even bothered to pay the compensation. We were rendered homeless, and he, despite being apprised of our misery, manages to bear that contentment on his face. How?
Me: I realize your dilemma.
Him: I don’t want you to realize, I want you, or someone, to answer. An extra laborer’s monthly pay won’t cost him more than his car’s daily consumption of petrol. Would it?
Me: I don’t reckon it would.
Him: Then tell me, is this beyond human limitations too? Would a dress for me cost more than the collar his dog is wearing in its neck? The special food his dog consumes daily is more than twice as pricey as what I would need to live through the day. Why does it deserve any more than me, a human being?
Me: You know too much for your age, son.
Him: I spend my days waiting for miracles sir. And you know time gets extended when you are lingering in a long, tiring, endless wait. I have outgrown my age.
Me: Yeah, I can see that very well.
Him: Alright, tell me one more thing. We, the humans of this country, brand ourselves as ‘ashraful makhlooqaat’ (the greatest of creations), right? Has the mightiest of creations not been bestowed with a little sense of justice?
Me: We all will get our share of justice one day, there is to be a day of judgment.
Him: No sir, you are mistaken there too! I won’t get my share then either. I was extruded into this world to be flagellated for a sin I never committed. I will grow into a vandal or a thief, I would commit the most atrocious of deeds, and would die a dog’s death; do you expect God to forgive me on that day? I will rot in hell in the life hereafter too, just as I am in this life. I was born with a curse, I will die with another; I am cursed forever.
Me: Son, just keep your thoughts and ambitions clean and don’t give up hope. God is there to help you and he will, sooner or later.
Him: It’s all operating according to his plan. He has done what he were to do, and the rest of the job he entrusted to you, his so-called caliph on earth. That’s how it works.
Me: May be you are right.
Him: But you didn’t address my query.
Me: You have risen far too many. Do you expect me reply to them all?
Him: Answer just the first one - what is my sin?

…the orange dropped from his hands, as if he got overwhelmed by his own questions. To my relief, he instantly lowered his eyes to look for it. He picked it up and didn’t even sweep the dirt off. To him that lump of sand covering the orange wasn’t any different from the orange itself, for it will serve the same purpose; of filling a portion of his belly, of satiating a portion of his immortal hunger. HONK! HONK!…growled the horn of a car behind me. The signal had turned yellow, and the people were desperate to cross it, so much so that they won’t even wait for it to turn green.

This yellow is our color; we fail to discern that it’s short-lived. We won’t struggle for the green, nor will we hold-up for it. We are short-lived, just like the color yellow.