Dark ashes!

Dark ashes from a corner was looming into the void. The kids were begging for a paisa. They wanted to be educated. As the ashes filled, the kids faded away leaving no mark of their presence, not a paisa in their hands. I suddenly woke up from that weird dream. It was 4 past ten minutes. I felt regret for not taking action for the work given to me. A work of trust and helplessness. A few days before, I was given a few bundles of coupons on behalf of an educational charitable trust. I had to sell it and collect some money for them. The needy would have been waiting for that. Who knew they reflected in my dream?  I just waited for the day to dawn. I extended my request to my friends who took a few bundles to their work place with a mere hope of getting money. As I walked to my office my eyes were searching for a smile. That could have healed my pain to an extent. Unfortunately I saw none! My thoughts lingered around the dream, for the whole day. At dawn, surprisingly my friend said “more than what we expected!!” I felt happy and put the money safe. But again, unfortunately that happiness was squeezed out with the next scene. I knocked at the door of my hostel mates. They as usual welcomed me for a chit chat. I didn’t know I was stepping towards clear water but full of dirty mud. As I proposed my little plan to them, the water became so polluted that I hardly saw the surface where I stood. After a long convincing chat I just collected little money. They would blindly spend triple the amount they gave, for a day. One could just imagine how much that would sum up to. As I walked back to my room I thought about an incident. Last day these girls bought a bundle of crackers for some celebrations. They just blasted it. A blast for a few seconds. It burned every cracker into ashes. Might be similar to the same ashes I dreamt of. It could have had a sound which overlapped each cry outside out of hunger. They spend thousands for a blast but not a coin for the needy! Incredible People! I just shared my bitter experience with my friends. We then talked about the attitude of people. I knew it was all about the heart to contribute. I felt I was in debt with gratitude to the people who contributed with a whole heart; it would be like giving fresh juice for the thirsty. At the same time, I was doubtful whether the money given with half-heart would bring good to the children who need it. It would be like giving the polluted water to the thirsty.  We sat in silence. As the clock struck 8, the news loomed in from the television. “Peshwar Massacre! 132 school children killed!” silence prevailed with wet eyes. Last question in my diary was “Is really education a crime”?  I scribbled on the page. It seemed like the same dark ashes.

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