Stop. And say thanks.

As soon as i finished reading the letter, my eyes welled up with tears. The last thing i wanted was to be seen crying. Dang it! i couldn't even find my handkerchief!

You must be wondering what all this drama is about. Well, to make it simpler...here's the story...

I work for a NGO (which i cannot name here!) for the last couple of months. Frankly, the word 'work' is a mere decorative hoax to what i'm really assigned to do there (i guess the "official-ness" of the word adds a few degrees to my dignity, ahem, silly me). This organisation works for children below the poverty line. Many economically affluent people, Indians and otherwise do whatever little is possible for them to aid the education and upbringing of these children. As a token of thanks the children write letters to their sponsors monthly. As the little ones write in Bengali, the letters have to be translated in English for their sponsors. That's where i fit into the plot. I'm the translator.

So lets come back where i had left the story...it was a typical Tuesday night and i was in my room, "working".

It was just another letter..but i could make out how many times the child had written and rubbed off the lines that didn't seem right...it was a bit smudgy here and there, a bit wrinkled, and then smoothed out....

I really doubt if my skills of putting pen to paper will be able to retain the true essence of the letter, so i quote~

" Dear Mrs.Brooke,

Hope you are doing good. I am fine. I'm really thankful for your help. As you know, three months back, i lost my father. Thereafter, i was compelled to leave school as my mother couldn't meet the expenses. With your help i have been able to resume school! I walk to school every morning.It takes me two hours, but as i go with my friend, its quite a fun journey. My elder sister left school to make enough money for my education. She does some embroidery work at home now. We are all fine. Please send me a picture of yours, my friends and i want to see you. I pray for you every night.My family and i send you our love. Thank you, and take care.

With love,

Ruksana Khatoon."

I kept the letter down on my desk, and logged into my Blog. Suddenly, the wishlist in my last post doesn't make sense at all. I don't care Samsung Corby is stylish, i already have a cell phone. I don't care that girl in my class always gets liquor chocolates from her aunt in Dubai, Dairy milk is enough for me. I promised to myself that i won't frown at my father when he asks me to sign off from Facebook at 11pm. Thank god i've had his hand to hold all these 16yrs.

Thanks to Ruksana, now i know how to differentiate between my wants and my needs. It's funny how in this rat-race of life we forget to look back and give thanks for all those little things that makes us so complete.

How we forget that we already have

to be thankful for..............

But now that little Ruksana has given me my chance, i wont let it go. So i stop. And say thanks. Won't you?