Monopoly

Dear Mr. Monopoly-Man,

I always imagine you with a monocle. But as I began to write this, I recalled that you dont wear one in the edition I own. A quick google search revealed that, in fact, you never did wear one (and also that your name is 'Rich Uncle Pennybags').

Even though you always welcome us with open arms, you seem quite the sadist: as we run around you in circles, friends turn to foe and families are torn apart. But regardless of the damages inflicted, I'd like to thank you. You've taught me a few things I would have otherwise never known:

1. I wasn't meant to start a business (I've only ever won two games)
2. "Nothing" can be a blessing sometimes (The relief of "Free Parking" instead of paying rent)
3. My family is stronger than a board game (It's never torn us apart)

As we go about our rounds I find it much like life, passing "Go" is like returning home, to soon set out again. Of course, the joy of $200 at "Go" is a small feat compared to the love at  home. Life is unfair,  as is the "Go to Jail" square, but that's pretty much where the similarities end.

I have to admit, I'm no longer a fan of the board game, but I do play the card game every now and again. How does that measure up, though? I'm not quite sure. I'll get back to you on that in another letter.

Regards,
Charvi

Heartbreak

Don't worry, this isn't one of those sappy love stories that take a tragic turn. It's about a little girl, reciting the days of the week while rocking her crying baby sister in her arms. After the Days-of-the-Week song ended, I taught her how to snap her fingers, to keep her baby sister occupied. We were sitting in a makeshift school in the middle of a construction site. Josna is the daughter of two of the laborers that work on the site. She goes to this school along with the other workers' kids (or at least those whose parents allow them to go), for food, shelter, and informal education.

I asked her if she liked going to this school to which she nodded with a wide smile.

"Are you learning anything?"

Frantic nodding.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"So how old are you?" I asked her.

She kept smiling but gave me a blank stare.

"How old are you?" I repeated, thinking she hadn't heard me over the noise of our surroundings.

The same blank stare.

"Don't you know how old you are?"

She shook her head shyly: No.

My heart broke.

I always knew that we, as humans, take many things for granted. Our homes, food, education, loved ones, games, electric supply, and so much more. On this day, talking to this little girl, I realized that knowing our birthdates is also a privilege that we take for granted.

My birthday has been celebrated since before I can remember, and I will continue to celebrate it for the rest of my life. One date, seemingly insignificant yet such a large part of my identity. Josna and so many others like her will never know the joy of becoming a year older (or the sorrow of become "too old" in your own eyes).

This isn't a superficial rant about the importance of birthdays or pity for those who don't know theirs. This is about realizing that their struggle is much larger than the obvious picture we get when we see them walking down the street. It's about kids who dream of a world beyond the construction site and the one-room school within it.

So this festive season, #sparkasmile by donating to assure that Josna and her friends will always have a safe space to learn and grow.

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Spark a Smile this Diwali by supporting SAATH Child Friendly Spaces! Help provide shelter, nutrition, and education to child laborers in India. Click the link below to donate. #sparkasmile #SAATHCharitableTrust #childlabor #education #underprvilegedchildren #india #diwali2k18

For Foreign Donors: (donate in USD) https://www.globalgiving.org/fundraisers/spark-a-smile/

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http://saath.org/donate-now/