The toddler

On that day, my first ever flight to Dhaka, I cried my heart out.
Smeared my thick mascara.
I look like a panda.
All the way from the airport till we pass the slum area all I see was pain, poverty and street beggars.
As Dhaka traffic is very very congested, of tuk tuk/bajaj and full of not-yet-discovered-formula 1- drivers cum suicidal taxi drivers, the massive jam had shown me another side of life.
There he was.
I saw him.
6 years ago.
This toddler who happily played with a wheel of a wheelbarrow in the slums of Dhaka, Bangladesh changed my life.
How can one rolls a wheel naked by the roadside change a stranger's life?

I cried a river as I saw him beaming when he look at how the wheels were spinning.
He was naked.
And he was contented.

There I was complaining about how unfair my roster was.
How unfair life is.
How the room service sucks.
How I have to drag my bag.

How I complain.
And here, this toddler showed me, how one can be happy without having materials.
God knows if this skinny little angel has eaten the whole day.

How ungrateful I was.

We all have our own sets of problems.
And we whine and whine till cows come home.
What we always focus on is how big our problem is without even thinking how we should be thankful for what we have.
For the food we have.
For the breath we take.
For the persons who loves us.
For the sleep we had.

No problem lasts forever.
No matter how permanently fixed in the center of our lives it may seem, whatever we experience in this ever-changing life is sure to pass.
Even pain.