Why are you here in this heat on Eid day instead of staying home? You could have enjoyed with your parents,

 "Why are you here in this heat on Eid day instead of staying home? You could have enjoyed with your parents," a middle-aged woman addressed me on the morning of Eid around 11 AM.

Long Post Alert

For the past 12 years, Mojar School has been on a journey, and for 9 of those years, we have been working in Uttara for children and elderly people—especially near Sector 12 and the regional passport office.

It’s an old habit of mine—to take my time with work. A task that could be done in an hour, I might take 4–5 hours to complete.

Before I explain why, let me share an incident. We had finished distributing food to about a thousand people without any unpleasant experiences or chaos. Then I asked, "If we provide one or two cows next year, would you be able to cook and serve the food yourselves?"

The response came instantly: "No, son, we can’t. There would be fights and conflicts."

They added another story: During Ramadan, someone had cooked and brought meat in a pickup truck, and it caused so much trouble that people ran off with the pots of meat, leaving many without food. Managing a thousand people in a slum is not something that can be done suddenly unless they trust you.

Now, here’s why:

1.1 We communicate sincerely with the community

We talk to them openly—do they understand that we work for them? That we collect funds for them? Do they truly benefit from it? What do they think about it?

At that moment, someone asked, "Why are you here on Eid instead of enjoying with your parents?"

I smiled and said what I believe: "Eid’s joy isn’t just about me having a great meal and relaxing. To me, Eid means bringing smiles to others. I start my day with semai made by my mother, spend the evening with family, but after Eid prayers, I dedicate a few hours here. I don’t know if everyone here is happy, but even if a few people are, that’s enough for me."

Everyone smiled and said, "Yes, we are happy."

I continued: "That is my Eid happiness. I don’t see joy in just lying in an air-conditioned room after eating well. That’s just my perspective—no offense."

I also explained that "We don’t just give food—we share it. We don’t throw it at people, and we don’t distribute just for the sake of it. Our social and educational backgrounds may be different, but our joy on Eid is the same. That’s why the time I spend here doesn’t feel like work."

1.2 We do not give out of pity; we work with dignity

We ensure that everyone gets their share, and we prioritize commitment. If we say we will serve 500 or 1,000 people, we do exactly that. Because no one is left out, people trust us. This trust wasn’t built in a day.

After food distribution, I was surrounded by 20–30 people. I asked, "I scold you, raise my voice—don’t you get angry?"

They replied, "No, because you explain things clearly and treat us well, so we don’t mind."

At this point, I explained:
"Out of a thousand people, there will always be a few who are physically strong and try to cause trouble. If a program is disorganized, they can take food meant for 10 people, leaving the weaker ones without anything. The reason I’m strict is to ensure fairness. The weak should feel secure that they will get their share, and the strong should know that causing trouble won’t work."

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Now, a few moments that touched my heart:

2.

After distributing food, the temperature was around 32°C but felt like 36°C. I was sweating heavily while sitting on a bench, surrounded by 8–10 people. Suddenly, someone handed me a cold Coke.

Right behind me, a disabled child sat down, and his mother tried to pull him up. I stopped her and said, "Let him stay."

The child wanted to drink Coke, but his mother felt too embarrassed to ask. I noticed this, and when I handed the Coke to him, I saw my hands shaking—I was exhausted from standing in the sun for hours, managing a thousand people.

Seeing my shaking hands, the boy scolded his mother: "Drink it quickly! Look, Sir’s hands are shaking."

So, we drank it together.

That moment, when a mother realized that we see her child as equal, with love and respect, meant the world to her. I believe that was more joyful for her than Eid itself—the honor and dignity given to her child.

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3.

Two hours before the program started, I was drenched in sweat. A volunteer, who lives in the slum, brought me a 1-liter Coke and insisted I drink it. Even though I said it wasn’t necessary, he made sure I drank it. We shared it together.

Can this kind of love be meaningless?

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4.

Then there’s Liza’s story—or rather, her absence. Her mother is sick, and they live in the slum. Liza is disabled—her hands and feet are bent, she has no intellectual ability, and she cannot speak.

Amidst the crowd, for some reason, she missed her turn and didn’t get food. The moment I found out, I made sure she received it.

Then, five or six local residents told me about Liza’s struggles, so I gave her 500 BDT to buy rice. But before that, I jokingly asked her for Eidi (a traditional Eid gift), and she happily gave me one.

For someone who hadn’t even received 100 BDT the entire day, suddenly getting 500 BDT made her so overwhelmed with joy that she couldn’t contain herself.

Her happiness was so evident on her face that I can’t even describe how good it felt.

Before I knew it, she bent down to touch my feet in gratitude—it happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to stop her.

Later, I found out that a photographer had captured the moment.

Would I have been able to witness this joy if I had stayed home?

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I know very well that I have no real power to make a difference. It is only by the will of Allah and the sincere support of Mojar School’s well-wishers that I get to witness such incredible real-life moments every day.

I always thank Allah and hope that the joy of Eid continues in this way.