thirteen

8 PM

Diana was running the final checks for the night. All the exhibits had been set up. A hall full of interactive art exhibits. One such exhibit would even have guests 'painting with fire.' The number of safety measures Diana had to put in place for that was ridiculous. In fact, making sure that the fire extinguishers were in their place is precisely what she was doing when, once again, the lights went out.

8:19 PM

"I thought the electrician said everything checked out?" Shouted Diana into the darkness.

"He did!" Came a reply. "What do we do now? The place opens in less than an hour!"

"Give me a second." Diana had a gut feeling that the power wouldn't be back anytime soon. 

twelve

Diana rolled over and checked her phone. 9:16 AM. No wonder she was so groggy. The power had gone out in the hall at 12:48 AM. Diana remembered the time exactly because she had checked it when she took out her phone to use as a flashlight. She along with a handful of others had stuck around till 2:30 trying to find the root of the blackout.

The event was only supposed to go on till 1:00 AM, so they didn't lose a lot of time, but no one had been able to figure out what had happened. Well, atleast Carly had enjoyed herself. Diana couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her friend's face light up like that.

Going though her notifications,  Diana came across a message:

"Don't know what happened last night, but everything's up and running now. Probably just some fluke."

"Better get started," Diana thought, as she got out of bed. "Another night, another theme."

eleven

Stepping out of the storm of bubbles, Carly found herself face to face with Diana.

"Diana, this is brilliant!"

Diana laughed. "You've hardly seen anything yet."

Both of the girls grabbed a drink and then Diana showed Carly around the world of bubbles. It made Carly feel like she was a little girl again, sitting in her front yard, blowing bubbles into the summer breeze. Watching them float around and pop when they tried to land on a blade of grass.

The tiny bubble storm was by far her favorite exhibit, followed by the giant bubbles near the back. Huge rings, the size of hula hoops, were being used to create monstrous bubbles that could fit a child inside them. Of course, the sheer size of the bubbles was astonishing in itself, but Carly loved watching them float around, their free form changing shapes as they move.

She was watching one such bubble dance about, when suddenly the hall went dark.  

ten

As she entered the hall, Carly opened her mouth to thank the doorman, but the words never formed. Bubbles as far as the eye could see. Colorful bubbles of all different hues floated around her, greeting her as she tried to make sense of this new world.

As Carly popped a green bubble, she noticed some tiny bubbles to her right. Walking further in, she made her way to an army of tiny bubbles. So miniscule and dense, they seemed like living, breathing mist.

"You can walk through them if you'd like," said the man who was creating them with the help of a machine. Without missing a beat, Carly walked into bubbles, letting them engulf her.

The words that hadn't formed earlier, now escaped in the form of a giggle. Carly stretched her arms out and twirled around.

"There you are," said a familiar voice.

nine

Carly made her way up the stairs, ecstatic. There were camera flashes and reporters on all sides. Of course, they weren't there for her. The only reason she was here at all was because Diana had pulled some strings to get her an invitation.

It really was marvelous, the grandeur of it all. This colossal hall amidst their little town. Big names and famous faces from all over had flown in for its opening week. Seven nights, seven different themes.

"I wonder what tonight's theme is," Carly thought as she reached the last step. 

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

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