Even in youth’s innocence, peril lurks. What if a playground scuffle, heat-of-the-moment fury, a blow that proves fatal. Branded a juvenile offender, shackled by law’s cold machinery, redemption a distant

[15/03, 12:21] sekarreporter1: Even in youth’s innocence, peril lurks. What if a playground scuffle, heat-of-the-moment fury, a blow that proves fatal. Branded a juvenile offender, shackled by law’s cold machinery, redemption a distant mirage amid reformatories and stigma. Bad habits could have ensnared me next stealing years in a haze of despair. Adolescence’s passions might have led astray as a teenage romance igniting into

forbidden fire, ensnared by the POCSO Act’s unyielding jaws, freedom lost in jail for years in the midst of dangerous criminals.

The legal path I tread what if it eluded me? Immoral methods for sustenance, dignity bartered in shadows and conscience eroded by necessity. Marriage, that sacred bond, could have crumbled, a child torn between ruins, hearts irreparably fractured. And in the sanctum of power as a judge, what if blinding authority corrupted me? Inhuman verdicts, bribes staining the scales of justice, my soul forfeited to hubris.

Deeper still, what if I lacked the capacity for elevation? Incapable to enjoy good books, speeches, or music? What if I had no opportunity to be aware of spirituality or great ideologies brought forth by great thinkers? No caring parents to guide, no loyal friends to buoy, no loving wife to heal, no beautiful children to ignite purpose. A world devoid of support, my pet Vela’s playful nudges absent and always in the pangs of isolation.

These “what ifs” cascaded like a torrent. I saw millions trapped there: street kids fighting to live, sick ones in endless pain, hurt ones hiding scars, poor ones without school, lost ones hooked on drugs or jail. Lives flipped by bad luck.
[15/03, 12:21] sekarreporter1: What If I Never Was Me: A lesser mortal’s Tearful Thanks

In the hush of an early morning, as the first light pierced the veil of dawn, I sat in silence, eyes closed, breath steady. Meditation clears my mind’s noise. But on this day, something extraordinary happened. A sudden gush of thoughts flooded in, unbidden and vivid, each was a “what if” that shook me. They were not mere hypotheticals; They felt real, like lives I almost lived. By the time I opened my eyes, tears poured down my face. I was sobbing not from sorrow, but from an overwhelming gratitude. In that moment, I saw clearly that I am so lucky.

What if I had been born from an illicit liaison, got left in trash right after birth ? Dumped in garbage, swaddled in filth, my cries lost to the indifferent roar of the world. No mom or dad and exposed to just strangers or the streets. Survival would have been a gamble, my potential crushed under the weight of stigma and neglect. Yet here I am, cradled from the start by caring hands, my origins a story of legitimacy and love.

What if a congenital disease had claimed my body from birth, its grip tightening with every year? Limbs weakening, senses fading, each dawn a battle against debility. Doctors’ visits, endless treatments, a life measured in milestones

of pain rather than progress. Instead, my body has carried me through courts and classrooms, strong enough to wield a gavel and embrace my loved ones.

What if I had grown up in a broken home, parents splintered by discord, leaving me adrift in emotional chaos. Or worse, orphaned young, thrust into a foster homes or institutions where affection is sparse.

What if persistent abuse had scarred my soul, Childhood stolen by fear and distrust? Childhood, meant for wonder, twisted into survival. Imagine no family means to fund education, the gateway to knowledge slammed shut. Or a catastrophic accident wiping out my kin, leaving me scarred and disabled, piecing together a life from fragments. What if my surroundings brimmed with rascals and scoundrels, their influence molding me into their likeness-a thief, a bully, lost to the underbelly?