People often ask me, "How are you so optimistic all the time?" This is the story from my childhood which I tell them:
On my 8th birthday I received gifts from my family and friends in many forms, badminton rackets, board games and magic sets. However, I found it very peculiar that my father gave me nothing during the party. After the cake was cut, songs were sung and all the guests left, my father came up to me and told me to close my eyes and stretch out my hands. I did so obediently and with anticipation. Slowly, my father placed in my hands a cold metallic object and asked me to open my eyes. I did not open his eyes immediately but was trying to guess what the strange object was which his father had given him. Was it the controls of the new game he had wanted?
On my 8th birthday I received gifts from my family and friends in many forms, badminton rackets, board games and magic sets. However, I found it very peculiar that my father gave me nothing during the party. After the cake was cut, songs were sung and all the guests left, my father came up to me and told me to close my eyes and stretch out my hands. I did so obediently and with anticipation. Slowly, my father placed in my hands a cold metallic object and asked me to open my eyes. I did not open his eyes immediately but was trying to guess what the strange object was which his father had given him. Was it the controls of the new game he had wanted?
When I could no longer bear the suspense I opened my hands only to find in my hand a blue fountain pen. I felt a sudden emptiness in my stomach, similar to what I felt the time I accidentally broke his uncle’s expensive vase. Confused and disappointed I stood still not knowing what to say or do. I could not understand why my father had made such a big deal regarding a simple pen. I had plenty of pens with me which I did not even use. Not being able to read my emotions my father asked, “Do you like it?”
I did not like it. But I knew that I must be polite to my father and I also knew how the truth would make the man, whose only joy came from thinking that the pen he loved most was loved most by his son, feel. So instead I said, “I love it!” My father smiled as he said, “Take care of it. It’s very important! O.K?”
I nodded and my father left the room without explaining the importance of the pen. Neither did I ask what it’s significance was nor was it of any immediate concern. What I did know was that I made a promise to his father and that promises, no matter what, must always be kept. What this young protagonist did not know at the time was that promises were not easy to keep and what a big responsibility I now had on his shoulders. I had to learn this in the most unfortunate way.
Two weeks, three days and approximately fourteen hours later, I was sitting in school waiting for the math’s lecture to end. On my father’s suggestion I took the pen to school only to write the very important tests or like my father called them “special occasions”. When the recess bell finally rang I opened my bag to check if the pen had enough ink for the test I had after the break. But when I put my hand in I realized that one of the compartments of my bag had torn from the bottom and that the pen which my father entrusted me with was gone.
I retraced my steps and went to the library where I saw one of my senior science teachers lying on the floor trying to reach for something under the book shelves. Her hands could not fit in the small space. On asking the teacher I found out that she was trying to reach her spectacles. Being only 8 years old, I used his small hands which fit easily, handed it to her and ran off.
I then went to the park where I played that morning but sadly did not find anything. Filled with grief, I started going back to class when suddenly in one of the senior student’s hand I saw it! The pen was one of a kind so there could be no mistake. I went to that senior and asked for the pen back. The senior student admitted that I found the pen in the library but he was not ready to give it back. He laughed and was walking away with the pen. I, who was now begging to get the pen back, had half a mind to hit the senior, knowing very well that it would only lead to trouble. Just then, out of nowhere a lady walked up to us and told the senior to give the pen back. It was the science teacher I helped in the library! The senior returned it quietly and was escorted by the teacher to class where he would be given a minor punishment. While they were going away I shouted ‘Thank you!’ The teacher looked back at him, winked and went along.
A sudden warmth rushed through my heart. I would later compare this feeling to jumping from building to building like a superhero. The lady I had helped on the way, had gone out of her way to return the favour. The incident gave me hope. From that day on I was an optimist. I truly do believe in the basic goodness of people. Now, even in the worst possible situations, I know things will be fine.
Remember my friends- Always Look Up!
Remember my friends- Always Look Up!
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