I watched as the boy extracted juice from several sugarcanes held together in a tight bundle, with a big sliced lemon hidden somewhere in it, as we waited at the shop yesterday afternoon.
Thick, greenish, delicious juice flowed free the first time he put them in.
He inserted them again.
And again.
The juice kept coming, though less by now.
I thought he would stop now. He didn't.
I watched amazed as he kept putting the shattered, withered, shredded-to-bits cane back and forth till finally no more juice ran out.
His companion poured out juice into medium sized glasses, sprinkled some masala and crushed ice on top, and handed them over to us with elan.
It's the most refreshing drink, I must say.
I pondered over the process this morning.
The poor sugarcane was subjected to the most inhuman treatment under shabby conditions. Yet it didn't protest.
I wonder why we do, when God allows us to go through similar situations.
If we could only keep our eye on the end result, that of being a refreshing comfort to many..
wouldn't we gladly yield to His ways in our lives?
Would we?
