This is something that I wrote while I was in +2. In one of the classes, there was this story about a bus accident on a rainy day, and somehow the bus conductor survived with some injury, and the it was said that the conductor was lucky! When the teacher said those words, it took me back to times when I struggled with the same question, and I couldn't stop myself from asking the question, how is he lucky? It was almost reflexive. So the story is about the time I tried to answer those thoughts.
I was 13, and people seemed to echo the same thing around me, "Oh! you are so lucky!" Especially the doctors and some of the people who visited me in the hospital. I was annoyed by them calling me lucky. After some time, the irritation turned into a question, Am I lucky? And as I started searching for the answers, the question became, Why do these people think I am lucky?
I would be stuck in one single thought, "Wouldn't I be lucky if I was in my home as normal as previous while not being in a hospital bed?" It was tough for me to get past that. Then, I thought, even if I was at my home would I be able to realize that in those moments? The answer was obviously, "No, I would not." So does this answer my question? Am I lucky now but can't realize it, am I lucky because there could have been worse? But, by that argument, anyone is lucky at present because no matter how bad their situation is, there is something worst possible. I, as a kid, defined luck as something unexpected and good.
After so much thought, I was back to square one. Another idea that crossed my mind was maybe all these people saying me lucky are looking at me from their perspective and comparing me with the worst they have seen. In the end, good, bad, worse, these are all comparative measures. I was not satisfied with this argument because the comparison should be based on my past experiences, not someone else's experience.
In the end, I just jumped from one question to another and never got the answer that I was looking for. The strange thing is that my reason for the curiosity was to prove other wrong, but with time I started to accept that I could also be wrong. Which seems strange but at the end I think questioning every thought and not adhering to single one makes you more open to ideas.
Edit 2019: In my opinion, the point of life is to go on a journey, ask those questions, and get lost in the train of thoughts and there would be a point where you realize that there was never an answer but you still feel at peace.
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