Sneha Jain, Class X F
The other day I had gone for an evening walk. On the way I noticed an old woman sitting under a tree. She was reading a letter and had a soft smile on her face. Beside her, sat my sister, fiddling with a box.
She noticed my presence and gestured to me to go over there. ‘Sneha,’ she said, handing me the box, ‘Mrs. Sharma’s grandson has sent her a letter, the one she’s reading, and a phone. Could you teach her how to use the phone? I could, but I have an assignment to finish.’
‘You just can’t open it, can you?’
‘Love you,’ she said and darted off, leaving the box in my hand.
I sighed and took a seat beside Mrs. Sharma, said hello to her, and opened the box in a jiffy. It was the latest model with the latest features and the heftiest price tags.
‘Your grandson must earn a lot,’ I said offhandedly, skimming through the instruction manual.
‘No, he is only twelve. My son must have bought it for him. I’m not that old Sneha!’ she said with a laugh. I apologized but she didn’t seem offended.
‘It’s been ages since I last talked to them. Sometimes I wonder if they even remember me,’ she said, sadness glinting in her eyes. ‘They probably think that this phone will solve the problem. Seeing my grandson in front of me, so close that I can touch him and lovingly hug him, is worth more than a million such phones.’
I was rendered speechless. I hadn’t thought of it that way. That day, I learnt that money cannot buy you everything. And what I does is not necessarily what the heart wants. Things bought with money cannot be compared to a loved one’s honest smile.
