“Okay, bye. See you tomorrow at school,” Arsal waved at his friends and closed the door. They had all come over for a group study at Arsal’s house, since exams were approaching in a few weeks.
As Arsal walked through the TV lounge, he spotted his grandfather watching the hourly news headlines.
“Arsal beta, come here, let’s watch some TV together,” called Dada, seeing him at the doorway.
“What’s in the news today, Dada?” Arsal asked, settling onto the sofa beside him.
“Oh, it’s about the devastating floods across Pakistan. They’re showing the damage compared to the 2010 flood,” Dada replied, turning up the volume so Arsal could also hear.
“More than ten thousand people have lost their homes while 800 have died in Punjab,” the reporter said. “An estimate shows that…” his words trailed on as he moved from city to city, from the Chenab to the Sutlej and then the Ravi, highlighting the rising water levels and the areas at risk.
“Dada, what will happen to the people who lost their homes?” Arsal asked curiously.
“They’ll have to rebuild everything from scratch,” Dada said, lowering the volume.
“But where will they live? And what about the kids — how will they go to school?” Arsal pressed, one question after another.
“These poor people will have no choice but to live in relief camps. It will take them a long time to restart their lives. Some children might return to school, but only a few. Most lose everything, and by the time their families recover, their daily struggles make education a luxury they can’t afford,” Dada explained.
Arsal’s eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen, but his thoughts drifted far beyond. It was as if his soul floated over the drowning provinces of Pakistan, where he could see families fleeing their homes, schools sinking under water, rescue workers diving in to save the drowning, boats crowded with people and livestock. Everyone looked sad and hopeless.
Suddenly, someone shook him. It was Dada, pulling him back to the present. “Arsal beta, are you all right?” he asked gently.
Arsal nodded. “Dada, is there any way we can help them?” he said, pointing at the screen.
“Yes, of course! We can donate the things they need — basic items like food, clothing, even medicines,” Dada replied, thinking aloud.
And so, Arsal and his grandfather made a plan. They gathered a few things from home, bought some from the market, and packed them neatly. The next day at school, Arsal shared the idea with his friends. They not only supported it, but also told their teacher, who encouraged them and announced it to the whole class. To Arsal’s surprise, everyone joined in and donated whatever they could.
For the rest of the week, children from different classes stopped by to hand over packages to Arsal and his friends. There were bags of dry food, clothes, bedding, medicines, even toys. Some students parted with their favourite storybooks so children in relief camps could have something to read.
Finally, the day came when Arsal, with his Dada and friends, handed over the donations to a rescue team heading to the affected areas. The rescue workers were surprised and touched by the children’s effort, impressed by their sense of responsibility.
Thanks to Dada’s encouragement, Arsal took the lead in presenting the donations and speaking on behalf of his friends. At that moment, the children felt proud of what they had achieved. Arsal realised that even the smallest efforts, when done with sincerity, can make a big difference in the lives of others.
Published in Dawn, Young World, October 4th, 2025
