On a random drive back from an unplanned dinner, my daughters, brimming with curiosity, threw a question at me that many parents dread: "What should we aim for in our lives?" 

"Should I become a lawyer?" my elder one, now in her 8th grade, asked with a serious look on her face. 

"I think it would be fun to be a business owner," chimed in the younger one, a spirited 4th grader. 

I chuckled to myself, not because their ambitions weren't valid, but because I hadn’t given serious thought to their careers yet—probably because I'm still figuring out my own (haha). 

But I knew this moment called for something more meaningful than a casual, offhand remark. So, I took a deep breath and told them two things.

"Firstly," I said, "you must aim to be independent in life. Independence doesn't mean being solitary; it means having a distinct vision for your life and making your own decisions with confidence."

They nodded thoughtfully, absorbing my words. 

"Secondly," I continued, "aim to be a happy person, no matter what. Happiness is most rewarding when it springs from within you, rather than relying on others to provide it."

My philosophy might not have been the most entertaining lecture they’d ever heard, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of career advice one expects. But it felt right. I glanced at them in the rearview mirror, hoping my words resonated in some small way.

Soon enough, they went back to listening to their favorite song, their faces lighting up with the joy that only music can bring. I smiled, content with the evening’s impromptu lesson, and drove on, the road ahead open and full of possibilities for all of us.

Hiiii, im just sorting this!

I denied doing a favor. Purposely and so wittingly for the first time in my memory. The boy who waved his hands from the bus-stop wouldn't have felt bad as much as I did, mostly because he would be doing it every day for commuting and a thousand of other bikers would be doing what I just did. The bike was not at a great speed, even though I did not bother to stop and further tried to hurry through the quiescent traffic before Akruti park road in Andheri East.

Would the boy have actually felt bad? Or did I do the right thing, by not stopping, so that eventually the boy would realize that no one would stop for him and revoke this habit of asking for lift? What if a kidnapper halts for him? Or if a molester tries to lure him with a lift? Am I justifying myself?