A foggy, winter morning ….

Why would anyone remember a bus ride on a foggy, winter morning?

There were many people commuting to work, some holding seats for their friends and some dozing off on the long ride. I could not focus for more than 5 seconds on any of them.

It was a ride that changed my life. I had asked Uncle Jim to take me with him. I wanted to study, and become a doctor. My alcoholic father and neurotic mother could not support my dreams. I was not at a stage to call it an ambition or goal. It was a very hazy, uncertain dream.

Uncle Jim left, without informing me. A few miles away, some passengers noticed me hanging on the ladder behind the bus. Uncle was not prepared for being stalked, but was compelled to take me in – in the bus, in his house and in his life. I cannot thank him enough for changing my life. Hazy dreams started taking  a concrete form, and I could achieve my goals.

It is 9 p.m. I am closing the clinic, after a long, hard day. Before leaving, I always glance at this picture, and thank Uncle Jim. It keeps me grounded.


Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner









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