“My son doesn’t know what he wants to do. He only knows what he doesn’t want to do,” Swami told me and Jigneshbhai the other day while we sipped our coffee.
“That’s not such a bad thing,” Jigneshbhai said. “Most people his age or for that matter, any age, don’t know even what they don’t want to do. They just do,” he added.
Swami and I looked at each other and wondered whether we knew what we wanted to do. Maybe we didn’t know even at our age. Therefore, there wasn’t any point in blaming Swami’s son. Jigneshbhai laughed out loud at our predicament and continued munching into a muffin.
“Do you remember those competitive exams we had before getting into any college? I used to answer those multiple-choice questions in those exams like that. By deciding what doesn’t seem like a good answer,” he said, and smiled.
“I never knew how to calculate the right answer. So I looked at the other options. For at least one or two of them, it was obvious that they were not the right choice. Among the two closest to being right, I took a guess,” he said, and broke into a loud guffaw that reverberated in the café.
It’s not such a bad thing to decide by elimination, on a serious note, I thought. But Swami wasn’t convinced.
“Well that’s OK for multiple choice questions. But you can’t make career choices like that,” Swami argued.
Jigneshbhai scratched his chin and mused. I knew something was on in his head.
“Yeah, maybe you are right, ideally you don’t want to decide like that. If you have a clear choice, great. But most decisions don’t afford you such luxury of clear choice. In that case you eliminate the others and go with what’s left. It works,” he said.
He munched into his muffin and continued.
“I chose to get into business somewhat like that. I knew what I didn’t like. Based on what was left after not wanting other options, running my own business seemed to be left. It didn’t turn out that bad,” he said.
Swami stayed silent but it was clear to me and Jigneshbhai that it was not the silence of agreement. I could sense that he was still thinking about the risks. After a couple of sips, he spoke.
“What if it’s not the right choice?” he asked.
Valid point, I thought. For important decisions, nowadays, children need to be right about the choices they make, I guess.
But Jigneshbhai shrugged his shoulders and remarked, “Too bad if it doesn’t turn out right. At least you eliminate one more choice and take the next one. Better luck next time.”
Jigneshbhai was all smiles and chilling out with his cold coffee in hand today. But that didn’t quite convince Swami, so I focused on my coffee, and let things be.
That’s when I saw the wealthy old man who was sitting next to our table walk up to me and Swami. He saw Jigneshbhai smiling and Swami with a tense face.
He put his hand on Swami’s shoulders. He left us thinking when he said, “Sometimes you make the right choice, other times you make your choice right.”
***