Summer vacation was drawing to a close, we had just returned from our trip abroad. We dived straight into the details of our trips to Daadi, who was visiting our ancestral village while we were away. But the beautiful part of the vacation was over already, I dreaded what lay ahead … another school year!

Dreading it, however, neither delays it nor stops it from happening. Before I could make sense of where my vacation went by, it was here, the first day of yet another academic session.

Do not get me wrong, I am a fairly average student with my own areas of interests as well. I perform well enough at school to be promoted every year. It is just that waking up every morning at 6am sharp that bothers me, the back-to-back classes annoy me. The same dull old routine of a school day is what I find boring. I would rather live an interesting day everyday as we did during our vacation than sit through maths and English lessons in the morning, only to go home with the burden of homework and assignments.

I know every student will agree above listed reasons and sympathise with me. But the unexpected can happen anytime and change one’s prospective forever. So let me narrate to you the events following my first day, this school year that changed my views about school forever.

With much contempt for going back to that dreary old place, I boarded my school bus. The argument of having to go by a school bus and studying at a convent when much trendier options of modern education are available, have long been topics of discussion at our household. However, my father firmly believes in the convent school he is an alumnus of. About school bus, he believes much like school uniforms, it serves the purpose of uniformity.

This is not convincing enough for me, as I try to adjust myself in an overcrowded bus. Thankfully, I find a window seat even if it is squeezed right at the back, at least I can breathe. I notice everyone is buzzing with energy. They excitedly share their vacation experiences, catch up on gossip, open their lunchboxes to take a sniff and generally feel excited to face this school year. On the contrary, I can’t see the sunny side of the day. Feeling almost nauseous, I bid my time looking out of the window.

Something catches my attention, I see a young boy, perhaps of my age carrying a huge bag on his back. The bag is heavy enough to make him hunch. He looks dirty, his hair unwashed and he frequently rubs the sweat off his face. The bag as I now witness, is filled with trash and he is busy collecting more of it. By the size of the bag he carries, I imagine he has already been hard at work. The van moves and I am distracted.

The boy lingers in my mind throughout the day, call it fate or coincidence, on my way back I notice the same boy as our bus stops at a signal. This time he is cleaning car windows for some petty coins that we leave around our homes. My mind is filled with thoughts of all kinds.

I realise this other child does not have the option of going to school, as I carry a brand new bag pack, he carries the ragged old bag every day without any weekends or vacations. I realise how different our burdens are and while I complain of carrying mine, he dutifully carries his. I end up thinking, how a life we complain about is a life others can only dream about. Wistfully, I think of the other child who does not have a chance to dream of a future any different from his present, while I switch from one profession to other, daydreaming in my class.

That day, I decided what I would to do in life. I would dedicate my life to alleviate poverty and strive towards education for all so that there are only one type of children, those who travel in a school bus with their due share of burden: the bag pack full of books.

Published in Dawn, Young World August 5th, 2017