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Spot the teacher 🙂 

I have been teaching these children for the past 6 months and every single one of them know me better than I will ever know myself. They have the ability to read my thoughts and feelings as much as I try to mask it with fake smiles and laughter. I have been having the worst few weeks in the past month and the only reason I snapped out of it as quick as I did were these angels.

I am crying over a broken heart when they are laughing at homes where there is no electricity, sweaters which have seen better years, shoes which let the ground kiss their feet at every step, drunk fathers, abusive family members, chauvinists who believe that a girl’s place is at home, homes where they wake up at 4 to make rotis for their families with those tiny little hands, mothers who they save from getting beaten up during ugly brawls, baby sisters and brothers who die of malnutrition and illnesses because they can’t afford any better… They love so unconditionally that it makes me feel that I don’t and never will the actual meaning of this word. People talk about having moments of revelation and all that while going through bad phases and I think I just had mine.

Their punctuality to school with those ever smiling faces despite their hardship makes me feel that my problems are absolutely minuscule and self inflicted. They have seen more of life than I ever will in the short 8 years of their lives and do they cry about it? No. They laugh it off as though it were just another phase of life. Respect.

Life isn’t fair. I can either choose to cry about it or pluck up the courage and face it head on. These children have come into my life to teach me how to pick up the pieces and God knows, I will.

This picture was taken on a day when I had cried all night, had puffy eyes and felt my worst. I had tears streaming down my face as these children hugged me and kissed me, with so much love that I didn’t want to let them go. They are honestly sent from heaven; there is absolutely no doubting that. 🙂 My little guardian angels.

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