The fables of the one legged rider - Choice

The rider, is sitting in a local train, moving from one suburb to another, of the fastest city in this country, our financial capital as they call it, our dear Mumbai.

The crowd is so immense that the rider can see little more than the sweaty shirts of the two people standing in front of him and the train's roof.

His station is about to arrive, and he manages to reach the passageway between the two doors, getting to hear some not so pleasent words on his way, because of having acccidentaly pushed so many people, not that it was possible to reach there without doing so anyway.

Without worrying about the pleasentries, and happy that the tough part was over, he stood, waiting for the push to come.

And come it sure did, as it always does in a local, where you never have to get down, the crowd makes you do it for you.

Amidst the thousands of people rushing out of the station, the rider, a small notebook in hand, started moving towards an automobile plant nearby that he had been visiting for a few days .

Inside the plant, he went about finishing his work, as this was his last day here, and he was ready with most part of the report he had to submit a few days later.
In the last hour or so, with his work done, he was sitting on the floor , in a small clearing on the plant floor, amidst the loud din that goes on because of the machinery, so that no one can talk to another human, even if they wanted to because there was no chance anyone would hear him. He was looking at all the workers, going at their tasks, faithfully, without fail, again and again and again, for as long as he could remember.

At the same time, he thought of the fishermen, who go to catch fish, day after day, casting the same nets, in the seas around, enduring all the waste we throw in near the costs. The women who sold these fish, sitting all day in that uncomparable smell., the janitor, who cleans our office floors everyday, taking all the dust in his nostrils, doing the same thing..again again again, taking the tiring local to their jobs, with less free space than a fly would need to pee in, again again...forever.

The rider had once heard someone say, that with time, these people get used to it all, and actually started liking it. Well, that someone hadn't been to any of these places more than once for sure, so the rider thought.

Listening to the din, the rider wondered, there was no way anybody could ever like this, or even get used to it. That much he had realized working in the plants for the limited period he had. Then why do these people keep on going at it??

The answer came to him when he saw a worker's son sleeping in a corner. These men had made their choice, the choice to have a family to go back to, to try and provide or them, and "live" whatever semblance of life they could manage. And these jobs, were the best opportunity they got.

And in this huge country of ours, many dont even get that, and so these men are happy they got atleast this!

The rider just then got a call from his boss, that its time to go.

Wondering that was it really a choise these people got, and what of those who were worse off, he "rode" out of the plant.