ENVY

 

‘’Here you go!’’ my mother cried triumphantly. She had bought me a new pink frilly gown the day before at the ‘Clothes Galore!’ shop. I looked a fool in it.

‘’Go, show Daddy,’’ Mum coaxed. I stamped out of the room and climbed up the stairs to Daddy’s office. The help’s daughter was sweeping the floor, her bushy hair covering her face like a veil as she worked. She heard my footsteps and looked up. She noticed my horrible gown. Silent and invisible tears filled up her eyes. I looked away sharpish and ran away. When I reached far enough, I stopped to catch my breath. I had seen the faint look of injustice and anguish in her seemingly blank and feelingless eyes. After seeing that look, I had one question, or was it a thousand questions? WHY? Why were some people just born poor and not given an opportunity to showcase their talent merely for the fact that their fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers and so on didn’t have enough? Why couldn’t illiterate people, after the difficulties they had to face, understand the importance of education, which would save their kids from menial work? And why couldn’t we bring a change to this?  I ran to my room, grabbed my laptop, and started making a poster. After completing it, I printed it. It had ‘Educate’ written on it.

I rushed to the help. I could make a change.   

                                                                                -ANAYA SHETH

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