Where Opportunity Changes Lives

A Lesson in Gratitude

Jugnuu is growing.

What started in Karachi is now reaching other cities and villages. Recently I traveled to a small village near Nowshera to help set up a new learning center. I expected challenges. But nothing prepared me for what I saw.

When I arrived, the children welcomed me with warmth that felt almost overwhelming. Some carried my bags. Others brushed the dust off my clothes. When I sat down, a few quietly placed chairs around me and simply stared with shy smiles. We didn’t share a language. I didn’t know Pashto and they didn’t know Urdu. Yet the connection was immediate.

But the conditions were difficult. The carpets were thick with dust. The rooms were bare. The children wore clothes many of us would consider worn out or disposable. The washrooms were nearly unusable. I realized quickly that this was a life very different from anything I had personally experienced.

Still, the classes began.

We set up the laptops, projector, and camera to start Jugnuu’s digital learning sessions. We expected around 35 students. Instead, 67 children showed up.

They came because they wanted to learn.

We had to stretch every resource we had to accommodate them. What struck me most was their energy. They were not only boys. Girls came too, eager to sit, listen, and absorb every lesson. Their hunger for education was real.

But that evening something happened that I cannot forget.

Jugnuu’s Jibran hosting a Computer Literacy Class in Nowshera.

I was invited for iftar. I hesitated at first because I knew they had little. But they insisted. When the time came, they placed a prayer mat for me in the lounge so my clothes wouldn’t get dusty.

In front of me they served fruit, chicken, kebabs, and juice. And around me sat the children. Watching. Their eyes were hungry. I could barely swallow a single bite. Every mouthful felt heavy. It was impossible not to feel the gap between what was on my plate and what they had.

Later the food for the children arrived. I looked into the pot. It was mostly thin lentils and water. When I tried to scoop some, the spoon caught little more than a soaked tortilla floating in the liquid.

Then I learned their story.

The local coordinator told me many of these children used to beg in the streets. They would collect leftover tortillas and tea from different houses just to survive. At night they slept directly on dusty floors without mats.

And yet now they come to class. They sit in front of computers. They learn skills. They talk about a future that once felt impossible.

Later that night one of the boys told me their cricket bat had broken. So we set out on a motorcycle to buy a new one. Halfway there the fuel ran out and we had to walk.

During that walk he shared his story. He said there was a time when he had given up. For two years he worked as a waiter in a small restaurant. But now he had come back. Now he wanted to study computers.

He looked at me and said, “Sir, this time I will not give up.”

When we reached the shop he carefully compared the prices and chose the cheapest bat. When we returned he held it like treasure. He kept thanking me again and again.

Then as I prepared to leave he said quietly:

“Why are you leaving me?”

That moment stayed with me.

The reason I am sharing this story is simple.

Many of us do not realize how much we already have. Our children sleep in safe homes. They eat regularly. They go to school with books and resources.

But there are children who only recently stopped begging. Children who sleep on dusty floors but still show up to learn coding and digital skills.

Jugnuu exists for them. And every time we open a new center, we are reminded how much work remains to be done.

These children are not asking for charity. They are asking for a chance.

And when they get that chance, they run toward it with everything they have.

The article is written Jibran, who is one of the volunteers at Jugnuu.

---

Together, we can transform lives through education. Your support makes a difference.