(Image taken from here)
Tring tring! The man who ferried me to the school had arrived. My mom was making my plaits and dad was tying my shoe laces. As soon as they were done, we hurried towards the rickshaw. I boarded it and my parents waved "Bye!" and I waved back with a smile. My friend who traveled with me to school every day was sitting beside me. She gave me a smile and a pink rose. I took the rose and pinned it to my hair. Soon, I was lost in the happy chatter.
My rickshaw man had taken a different route today. Today I'd reach my school after everyone else got down. All the other kids had been dropped and we were on the way to mine. But some other rickshaw drivers had blocked the way. Apparently, there was rickshaw strike today. Fearing violence, he told me to get down and sped away. I was at class II that time. I stood there shell-shocked and without a clue about what to do for around 10 minutes.
A boy came around, concerned. He might have been studying in the 7th or 8th grade. He asked me what the problem was and why I looked so confused. I narrated the entire incident. He smiled and said. "Don't worry! Your school is on the way to my school. I will drop you there" I felt so relieved when I heard those words. We were walking together eating groundnuts and chatting. And soon my school arrived. I thanked him and he left.
And thankfully, in the evening rickshaw came to drop me up to home! I explained the whole incident to my parents as soon as I came home. The next day, my parents made sure that the driver would feel like a little child getting scolded.
I'll always think of that boy as my brother. I will be thankful to him all my life. God isn't here or there, He is right here in our hearts. I still don’t know what might have happened if that day the boy hadn't cared enough to ask me "What is wrong sister?"