Choices

Source: worlartsme

"Are you sure?" He asked the six-year-old. Here it was again, the crossroad of choices. The tiny mind was plagued with the fear of picking the wrong choice. She looked up at her mom desperately for hints, as if answering this question depended on life itself.

To her relief, mom nodded encouragingly. It was one of those lucky times when there was someone else by her side to give the green signal. Having gotten the approval, she turned to the salesman holding up the cute pink dress from across the counter. "Yes I'm sure." she chirped confidently.



Good times were like these when all you had to do was say yes or no. But it seemed like fate wouldn't let her rejoice. For, just as her dad was about to take his wallet out to settle the bill, the salesman had done the unthinkable. There beside the pink frock appeared another much prettier one. This one was studded with tiny gems, with rose coloured frills jutting out from the sleeves and the waistline. It looked like what a princess would wear.

The perplexed little mind had lost its peace again. "Are you still sure you want the first one?" asked the salesman. She could've sworn she saw him smirk ever so slightly, feasting on her confused mind.

Now, what was she to do? Ditch her first love and go with the princess gown? It was prettier yes, but it was also what most of her friends already owned. The pink one looked cute and comfy, but not grand. But what if after choosing the gown she realizes that the first frock had been 'the one'? What if she regrets the decision to have broken the promise she made to the pink one to take her home?

Oh, the pressure! This time, she realized she was on her own, for her mom and dad were giving her questioning looks rather than hints. Perhaps they weren't helping out because the new dress wasn't the right one? Yes, that must be it.
"I still like the first one." She claimed, even as her mind rocked back and forth between the two dresses. But she wasn't ready to go down the difficult road of having to pick a favourite. Not again.

How was it that choices came so easily to people? To her, picking a favourite was like abandoning every other one before her. To her, picking a favourite was rude, because there was always some good and some bad in everything. To her, picking a favourite was like letting go of all her options simply to stick to a single one. She couldn't understand why people would even want to do that.

Besides, wasn't life about exploring new options anyway? How was she to make a decision without knowing all of it? Like how she had made chocolate her favourite flavour before she had met vanilla. Like how almost a week later she decided that she liked butterscotch better. Like how she worshipped JK Rowling before knowing Dan Brown. Like how she loved How I Met Your Mother before ever watching FRIENDS.

But over time, she got to know that choices can go wrong and it's okay. That even if it isn't the right one, she can choose something else the next time and keep trying. That way, her calculated choices smelled lesser of dubiousness.

More than a decade later when the salesman laid before her three sarees of contrasting shades, her mom chose the first and dad chose the second. She, as usual, chose to be in dilemma. But this time she looked at no face for a hint as she brushed all the three aside and picked more from the shelf. After much thought and assessment, she was lured by a pink silk beauty with golden ornamentation in the ends.
"I guess this is the one."

On stage, as she spoke before the crowd clad in the silk saree, she knew it most definitely was.
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