I stood there under the sun for the Volvo bus meanwhile nine ordinary buses arrived and departed. I boarded none. Those were nine opportunities for me to reach my destination but I decided to wait for the most comfortable one. And now sitting in the Volvo, flipping the pages of Arvid Adiga’s The White Tiger in my Kindle, I wonder. What if this bus would never have arrived? What matters more to the man? The end or The means? I choose the easiest means because I could. When the world only glorifies the man who reached his end does the mean really matter?
The nine buses that I had not taken didn’t go empty. Many dreamers boarded them with the hope of reaching their end. How am I different from them? We all reached our end only our means were different.
The point I’m trying to make is that often in life we skip opportunities for the right one. The reality is that there are no right opportunities. We keep waiting for that right one while letting all others slide. For some this waiting is worth cherishing and for some, well.