Do You Know How Important It Is to Be Present?
While growing up, no one was present for my school events or
activities. I always cried for that presence. Even when people were physically
there, I was often asked,
“Why do you participate? I can’t take leave.”
Slowly, I stopped participating in everything. I became the
kid who never expected anyone to show up.
Being present is the bare minimum, yet somehow it has become
a luxury.
I used to watch other families holding their children,
appreciating them, cheering for them. I would just smirk and tell myself, “It’s
okay. It’s nothing.”
But deep inside, a small part of me always wondered what it
would feel like to look into the crowd and see someone there just for me.
It’s not that I hate my people. Maybe everyone had their own
reasons, their own responsibilities. Perhaps someone needed them more than I
did.
So it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the past.
Recently, something happened that made me think about all of
this again.
It was January 26. A little kid from my neighbourhood came
to me and said,
“Akka, can you please write a speech for me for Republic
Day?”
As a good neighbour, I wrote one for him. The kid lives with
his grandparents while his parents work in another city.
While talking to him, I jokingly said,
“Practice well. I will come to your school and see
whether your speech is good or not.”
I don’t know why, but when I said that, he became extremely
happy.
He jumped and asked,
“Really, akka? Are you coming to my school?”
I slowly lifted my head and looked at his face. His eyes
were glowing with hope.
And suddenly I realized something.
Sometimes hope doesn’t come from big promises.
Sometimes it comes from a simple sentence that someone chooses to believe.
But how could I break his heart by telling him I was just
joking?
So I said,
“If I am free, I will definitely come.”
With a heart full of hope, he replied,
“I hope you make some time.”
Days passed.
The day before the speech, he came to me again to practice.
For many days I kept thinking — should I go or not? I don’t like
attending school functions. It has been years since I went to one.
But suddenly reality hit me.
I remembered how that heavy feeling used to sit in my heart
when no one came for me.
That quiet disappointment… when your eyes search the crowd
and find no one.
So I asked him,
“Tell me the timing. If possible, I will definitely
come.”
He gave me all the details and asked again,
“Akka, you will come, right? I will be waiting for you.”
I thought he was just saying words.
The next morning, I woke up late. But my heart kept saying, You
need to attend his speech.
So I quickly got ready and rushed there.
By God’s grace, I didn’t miss it.
My eyes were searching for him everywhere. He was playing
with his friends, but if you looked closely, his eyes were also searching for
someone.
Was it me?
I don’t know.
Then it was his turn to speak.
I jumped from my seat, ran near the stage, held up my phone,
and started recording.
His eyes found me.
And he smiled.
In that moment, a line I once heard somewhere suddenly made sense:
“Jahan dil lag jaata hai na, wahan waqt nikaal hi liya jaata hai.”(Where the heart truly cares, we somehow always find the
time.)
He made a few small mistakes in his speech, but that didn’t
matter.
After finishing, he came running to me.
And that day, I realized something important.
Somewhere in the crowd,
someone is always searching for a familiar face.
Sometimes the greatest thing you can give someone isn’t advice, money, or gifts.
Sometimes it’s simply your presence.
Because somewhere in the crowd,
someone is always searching for a familiar face.
Maybe that day I didn’t just attend a speech.
Maybe that day I finally became the person
I once needed in the audience.
So if someone is waiting for you to show up, don’t miss it.
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