SUNDAY BRUNCH: I CHOSE TO LIVE

This is an old story and I'm sure those of you who know me personally have read or heard it from me in the past. Today, it flashed back - for no apparent reason - with great suddenness and to my own surprise I found myself resonating in synchronicity with the story's protagonist. Let me share it with you guys.

This is a story of an amazing guy I had befriended in Delhi way back in 1989. Those days, I traveled to Delhi frequently on work.

His name's Ramesh Khurana and we're still in touch. Back then, Ramesh worked as a restaurant manager in a small eatery in Karol Bagh and being the incorrigible “foodie” that I was, I became a frequent visitor to the restaurant. Ramesh was one of those guys who would perennially sustain a smile and a good mood. When someone asked him how he was doing, he would invariably reply, "If  I were any better, I would be twins!"

Many of the waiters at his restaurant quit their jobs when he changed his - just to remain with him. They loved and admired his attitude.

Ramesh was a natural motivator. If a colleague was having a bad day, he would always be there showing him the positive side of things. Seeing his working style, kind of, fascinated me. One evening I actually asked him, "I just don't get it! No one can be a positive person ALL the time. How do you do it?"

Ramesh replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, I have two choices today. I can choose to be in a good mood or I can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose the good mood.”

"But it's not always so easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is", he said. "Life's all about simple choices. That's what I have learnt the hard way."

Incidentally, Ramesh had been orphaned at the age of four and had a painful upbringing under meager resources of a distant uncle in Haryana.

The conversation didn’t prolong. The day passed and life carried on. I moved back to my home-city Kolkata and Ramesh became a fading memory.

A good six years later I got to hear again about Ramesh Khurana.

Ramesh, then the manager of a large South Delhi restaurant, had met with an accident. He had mistakenly done something that he wasn't supposed to do. He had left the rear entry to the restaurant open in the morning (he usually arrived very early, much before the staff did) and had been attacked by three armed men who had sneaked in through the open rear door to rob. While trying to open the cash safe at gunpoint, his hand, shaking from nervousness, had slipped off the combination. Seeing this, the robbers had shot him and sped.

Luckily, Ramesh was found quickly and rushed to the AIIMS with two shoulder bullet wounds, unconscious and profusely bleeding. After 8 hours of surgery and weeks under intensive care, he survived.  

I met Ramesh seven-eight months later. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins! Want to see my bullet scars?" I declined but asked him how it had all happened. He said, "When they brandished a gun at me, the first thing that went through my mind was that I shouldn’t have forgotten to lock the rear door. Then, after they shot me and I lay bleeding on the floor, I remembered I had two choices: I could choose to live or choose to die. You know me. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared?" was all that I could ask.

Ramesh continued, "The paramedics were really good. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. I had been bandaged chest-upwards and administered strong painkiller shots. But when they wheeled me to the OT an hour or so later I faintly saw the expressions on the faces of the doc's and the nurses, I got really, really scared. In their eyes, I read, HE'S A DEAD MAN. I wished I could do something but the pain all over was so excruciating.""And then?" I asked.

"Well, there was this big nurse shouting questions to a semi-conscious semi-sedated me. I remember she was asking if I was allergic to anything. 'YES,' I murmured. The doc's stopped for a few seconds waiting for my answer. I took a deep breath, garnered all the strength that I could and croaked, ‘I AM ALLERGIC TO BULLETS!’ I could hear their laughter. I told them, ‘I have chosen to live. Please remember that.’ And, well, here I am – still alive and kicking!”

Ramesh and I are still good friends though we live again in different cities. But every time we get to meet in person I don’t forget to tell him that I've learnt the single most important lesson of my life from him: that every day you have the choice to either love life or to hate it, to either be alive or dead.”