Money doesn't buys happiness, some say. Growing up as an eight year old, I ,unconditionally, believed this. To me happiness was helping my parents wash cucumbers in the kitchen and them calling me a big girl. Happiness was defeating my dad in a game because he always won, not knowing he let me win on purpose, or happiness was finding gifts under the huge Christmas tree that lived in my dining room. I believed that this was happiness to everyone, everyone had it, but only now do I realise how unfortunately oblivious I was. We had gone to a zoo, one day, and had been there for a couple hours. I was exhausted, hungry and cranky, as I always got when I hadn't eaten for a while. I threw a small tantrum and my father rushed and bought me the nearest food available, a sandwich, promising me a more sustainable meal when we went to a restaurant. As I was biting into my food, a young girl who looked around my age, approached me. She was dressed in torn and worn out rags, bleached by the sun, that barely covered her frail body with another young baby boy in her hands who had no clothes at all. She didn't know english, and tried asking for the food in my hand in Hindi. She told me she hadn't eaten anything in two days and her two other siblings were sick at home being cared for by her mother. Her father sold flowers on the road, but earned an extremely meager salary, barely enough to get them 1 meal a day. I was stumped and so unhappy, I started crying not knowing how to respond to the girl because this was my first time in this kind of situation. I immediately wiped my tears and gave her my sandwich and told her I was sorry. I don't know what I apologised for, but the guilt tugged at my heart. She gratefully accepted the sandwich and the simple delight on her face as she ate it lightened my mood up, and I felt like I had just done something so wonderful, I felt the joy of giving. I had always been an empathetic child and just like that, that day I swore to my eight year old self that I would try and help other children. On my 9th birthday, I asked my parents for a huge cake, so I could share it with all my friends, including the new ones I was about to make. My parents, glad I was trying to make a difference, readily did it. I had a double layered chocolate cake, Harry Potter themed, generously covered in frosting, but I waited patiently to cut it and share it. I celebrated my birthday party a week after my party with all of my friends. The week before, I had received some money and I was determined to buy my favourite burgers with that money for an orphanage called "Hope orphanage" not far from my house. We drove all my fifteen friends to the building and we talked everything silly and mundane eight year old girls talk. This was the first birthday party of the kind we were having in my group of friends, so they were all quite confused, but didn't question it. The children in the orphanage were kind. We all bonded well, played musical chairs, and did the treasure hunt my brother had worked hard towards for making my day special. Finally, when it as time for lunch, we all sat down on a large table to eat. I went around distributing the burgers to everybody on the table. When I approached the last two girls on the table and gave them the burgers, one of them started crying, saying she was overwhelmed with how much fun and joy she felt that day, and she had never had such an enjoyable time. She wiped her tears and hugged me wishing me all the happiness in the world. And that day, I felt it. When everybody ate the burgers, the way their faces lit up with so much happiness, and their smiles reached their eyes, overjoyed me. While I believed that while money is not everything, it can be a source of happiness for many not as privileged, and if I could give that to someone, I would do it without a second thought. I would spend that money to buy those burgers over and over again just to see those smiles on those faces and it doubtlessly is the best money I had ever spent.