The Toddler.

In a bank, while waiting for our turn to meet the manager, I noticed my father watching something keenly. I followed his gaze and saw a toddler sitting on the floor. The kid looked around for a while and then began to crawl under the chairs in the waiting area. She bumped her head on some chairs but she kept going. She stopped and smiled when she neared a piece of shiny paper. She sat, picked the paper and began exploring. She looked around momentarily; probably searching for her parents, then went back to exploring her new-found treasure. Nobody disturbed her. She often smiled to herself.

Suddenly, the mother appeared, lifted the kid from under the chair and carried her to one of the counters in the bank.

The kid fiddled with the paper she had picked. The mother noticed the paper, gently took it from the kid and dropped it on the floor.

The kid looked at the mother for a moment with a confused expression and then began to wail.

The mother was embarrassed as she got the attention of everyone in the bank.

My father smiled. I smiled too.

‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked me.

‘Nothing’

‘Tell me. What did you see?’

‘The kid picked a paper. The mother took the paper away. The kid is crying now’

‘Is that all you saw?’

‘Yes. That’s what happened right?’

‘Let’s review it in detail. The kid sat on the floor and looked around. She set her eyes on the shiny piece of paper. She went after it. She bumped her head into many chairs. It must have hurt but she did not care. She went on and did not stop until she had that shiny piece of paper in her hand. She smiled to herself.

‘Her mother came and picked her. She didn't cry. The paper was snatched from her. She didn't cry.

‘She cried’, I butted in.

‘No she didn't cry when the paper was taken away. She looked at her mother for a moment and then began to cry, rubbing her head.

I looked at the kid immediately. She was still crying and was vehemently rubbing her head.

‘So’, I said, ‘when the thing she desired was taken away from her, she felt the pain in her head’

‘Well, that is one way of seeing it’

‘What other way can there be?’ I asked.

‘Can you not also say that the pain did not stop her from getting what she wanted?’

I saw the same incident as my father. But he saw something more. He saw something inspirational in what I saw as a mere incident. Perspective matters.

There is something to learn from every incident and every person.

‘Well’ he said, ‘when we have a goal and we are after it with all our heart, the obstacles don’t matter.’

‘But the baby began crying when she lost the paper’, I said.

‘That’s what most of us do. We cry when we fail.’

He smiled. I did not.