//The Fortune Puller

The Fortune Puller

By |2020-02-05T14:24:25+00:00February 5th, 2020|Inspiring Story|

It was another late, summer afternoon. Another hectic day in college. The Sun was blazing right on my face as I wiped off sweat from my face. I was longing for the comfort of my home and pretty much dreaming to slouch. I never liked my college or even education. It was exhausting, required efforts and honestly, quite boring.

The best part of the day was at home with food and on couch. However, reaching home seemed like a distant dream today since not a single rickshaw (passenger vehicle) was in sight. I had been waiting in earnest for the last fifteen minutes. Life is hard at times.

From a distant corner, a blur figure appeared. I recited in my mind, “Please be a rickshaw”.

As the figure approached, it grew in size and I got a clearer view. It was, in fact, a rickshaw. The rickshaw-puller was an old, ragged man. His pockets torn, sweat dripping from his forehead as he put all his strength in pedaling. It must have been an exhaustive day for him too.

I’ll admit, I am poor at bargaining. I accepted his demanded fare and stepped on his rickshaw. The seat was scorching and I could smell cigarettes. He must have smoked right where I was sitting a few hours ago. Right now, none of that mattered. It was my only conveyance.

The ride home was sloppy. He didn’t talk much except about the heat and I was in no mood for a conversation with a rickshaw-puller either.

As we halted in front of my house, I got off his rickshaw and started rummaging in my bag for my wallet. As he waited patiently, he turned his eyes towards my house and stared at the nameplate. I could sense that he was making an effort to read it.

He murmured, “Advo- advoca- and tax consu-” under his breath. I looked up in surprise and handed his fare. I turned to the nameplate and read it for him.

“It says advocate and tax consultant. My father is one. You can read. You must’ve went to school.”

He smiled a little and I noticed that he had a tooth missing. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, for a while. But I couldn’t pursue it further. My father died. Family needed support. So, my uncle lent me a rickshaw to earn my living. I pay rent and earn my bread now. No need for education now.”

He climbed on his seat and pedaled away but I couldn’t turn my eyes away. My mind was racing now. How privileged and ungrateful I have been all my life.

That rickshaw-puller has a different fortune now. He had no choice but to discontinue his education. Had it be any different, he could’ve lived a better life. He would’ve valued what life offered him.

I realized half of my joys and demands from life were outcomes of being born in a privileged home. Life is unfair at times.




About the Author:

Hey! My name is Pulkit and I am a student pursuing my bachelors in computer application. I write short stories for young adults and have been published too. I like reading. Mostly, I enjoy reading suspense and thriller but you never know what I might like next!

Leave A Comment

11 − nine =