The Unfairness Of It All

Unfairness. Everywhere I look, I see that monster rear its ugly head. I see it in the eyes of the hungry child begging on the streets. I see it in the limp of that beautiful girl arduously making her way down the over bridge. It taunts me when I spot an old couple walking down the busy road, holding on to each other as they try to stay clear of the rush hour traffic. Unfair. Life is so very unfair, I decide.

The hungry beggar boy thinks living in a two room shanty and having three meals a day is the biggest blessing of them all. He currently lives in one and has two meals a day; just a little more effort, and he’ll get to his dream spot, he figures. Does he think life is unfair? “Well no, look at some of those other kids who don’t even have a home to go to. My mother works in three houses, and feeds me lunch and dinner,” he says, not without a hint of pride in his voice.

The pretty girl with polio shrugs noncommittally when I repeat my query. “Unfair? Why do you think so?” I am tongue tied; I don’t know how to ask her the obvious, without articulating it, and somehow, I feel she would be offended. Except, she seems oblivious to something that obviously must be causing her discomfort. Or is that a perception of my mind? “Well you know, having polio might have been a dampener,” I venture. “Oh that. Well, it was so long ago, and it’s not polio by the way,” she goes on to give me the name of some other condition, which I can’t recollect now. “One learns to adjust, you know. And one forgets that one has a disability, until someone comes along with a reminder,” she continues, almost with a hint of reproach in her voice. “I don’t remember having felt that it was unfair; uncomfortable, yes. Unfair, no.”

Wow! These people must be Gods. How is it possible not to perceive the unfairness of it all? The old couple looked at me as though I had lost it. “What is this, young man? Some survey, or some joke?”
“Oh no, I was just…. You know… a little curious…”I falter.
“And why do you think life is unfair to us?”
“Oh well, at your age, you should be.  sitting comfortably at home, and someone else should be doing the running around for you. At the very least, you should be driving around in a car, instead of walking, especially when it is so hot” I reply confidently.
“Have you ever considered that this is perhaps what we want? This running around, this walking and holding hands, this companionship?” he pulls at his wife’s hand and they shuffle down determinedly.

“That guy is surely crazy, eh, Radha? Imagine stopping people and asking them such weird questions; nobody in his right mind would do it.”
“Ah yes, Manohar; I think so too… Looks like a fine young lad too. Poor thing, life can be so unfair!”

I notice the old man and his wife look back at me and steal glances before shaking their heads and moving along.