A nineteen year old girl stands perplexed as the room full of cousins burst into laughter. Everyone is laughing, except her. She does not know what they all are laughing at. Excitedly she asks her cousin sister, “What happened? What happened?” The perplexed look on her face only results in them laughing harder. Finally one of them blurts out, “Pijjaa ! Hahahha say it once again! Pijjaa !” Everyone bursts into another round of laughter, high-fiving each other and some even rolling down the floor holding their stomachs. She looks around in confusion. Until one of her cousin's mother enters the room to check on the commotion. “Mummy, she called Pizza ‘Pijjaa' !” She says pointing towards her, seeking approval. There is an inherent sense of superiority in the way she looks at her, expecting her mother to join her. The mother hushes her off, “shhhh, it's bad manners to make fun of anybody.” Unlike her, all her cousins studied in English medium school. She did not know THAT the Difference between Pizza and Pijjaa was not merely of pronunciation, but Much More Than That. That, in a world of Pizza, ‘Pijjaa' was unforgivable, Pijjaa brought shame. The two come from two totally different planets, and their worlds never intersect. That this world applauds Pizza & shuns Pijjaa. That in the World of Pizza, Pijjaa did not Belong. That in this World Pizza had the Power to decide how ‘Pijjaa' would be treated. She earned a new name that day, the official “Behenji” of the group. She hated it from her core, she wanted to feel belonged too. But somehow, her skills, ability, talent and intelligence all got eclipsed behind the cardinal mistake. She had to pay the cost of not knowing the difference between ‘z' and ‘j'. Several years later when she gives birth, she decides her daughter is not going to face the same humiliation that she had faced. That she will send her to an English medium School. That she grows up Belonging. So then, did her daughter really grow up with a sense of Belonging ?

It all began along a vibrant street, blossoms everywhere, foliage scattered all around, the brisk frost felt so quiescent, so serene to my soul. How amazing the sky with spiraling cotton clouds, the grass with dew sparkling like diamonds. This divine art of nature tranquilized the mind and body of pedestrians. I was flabbergasted by the nature that I forgot to notice something. Something horrendous indeed. Standing across the street, under the umbrella of sunrays, were four kids with four bags but with “two different stories”. Two kids pale as they seemed, stood in quietude like a phantom, lost in their ocean of thoughts with cries of hopelessness coercing them to drown in abyss. With ceaseless search for hope in their eyes but seemed that destiny stabbed them in the back each time they combated to attain their dream. This never gave them the intrepidity to standup afresh. Their legs quivered, dreams faded and despair engulfed them, compressing them under a state of bewilderment. They knew not whether their future existed, while holding a rugged, patched bag gathering garbage from the surface which enveloped them. While the second story comprised not of rueful souls, bleeding hearts, sorrowful smiles, gloomy eyes and unforgettable tragedies but it accompanied gladsome smiles, blissful lives, faithful hearts and buoyant eyes. The two kids in this tale possessed school bags and books, wore uniform and steadily directed their way towards their school with ambition to strive and chase their aims and dreams. I wish to see the spark of hope in their eyes, in the eyes of the hopeless and grieved ones. I wish to replace garbage bags with school bags, trash with books and brooms with pencils. I wish to see grinning souls and auspicious smiles, instead of lachrymose eyes under the shadows of terror and agony. I wish to glorify each melancholic soul with a resolute vision to thrive and carve their destiny. And I wish them to love life and cherish it like the staunch, enthusiastic children. This example doesn't only represent those four kids but makes us realize how millions of innocent and naive souls kill their dreams, bury their futurity and abolish their destiny due to the lack of opportunities and chances bestowed upon them. This is what I hope to achieve in my lifetime; to make this a “single story” of hope, struggle and passion for fulfilling their dreams. To win the spark of aspiration and contentment in their eyes, and make them flourish their fate and predetermination. I hope to make them construct a promising future, a prosperous life, a determined generation and an ambitious world! I dream to put together the dispersed puzzle fragments into one intact piece of warm fuzziness and beatitude. And dream to make it a “ONE SIMILAR STORY” for each and every juvenile on this planet by healing their sundered futures with the only key to close this door of inequality and poverty, ‘education'.