Once upon a time, in the bustling streets of a small Indian town, a little girl named Meera lived with her cruel stepmother. Meera's stepmother made her work hard every day, forcing her to sell matchsticks in the market. Though Meera worked tirelessly, her stepmother never showed her any love or care.
One chilly winter evening, as the town celebrated the festival of lights, Deepavali, the streets were filled with glowing diyas and the sounds of laughter and crackers. Meera walked barefoot through the cold streets, carrying a small basket of matchsticks. Her thin, tattered saree did little to keep her warm. She shivered in the cold, calling out to the passersby, "Matchsticks for sale! Matchsticks for sale!" But no one stopped to buy her matches. Everyone was busy celebrating with their families.
Hungry and freezing, Meera wandered to the edge of the town, where she saw a large house filled with light and joy. She peeked through the window and saw a family gathered around a big table, enjoying a feast of sweets, samosas, and warm milk. Meera's stomach growled, and she wished she could be inside, sharing in the warmth and happiness.
Unable to bear the cold any longer, Meera sat down in a corner near the house and lit one of her matchsticks for a little warmth. As the flame flickered, she saw a beautiful vision. In the warm glow of the matchstick, she imagined herself sitting at a table, enjoying a plate full of delicious ladoos and warm halwa. But as the matchstick burned out, the vision faded, and she was once again cold and alone.
Desperate for more warmth, she lit another matchstick. This time, she imagined herself wearing a beautiful silk lehenga, with colorful bangles jingling on her wrists. She felt warm and happy as she twirled around, surrounded by bright diyas. But soon, the matchstick burned out, and the cold returned.
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Meera lit another matchstick, and this time, she saw her late mother. Her mother’s face was kind and loving, and she reached out to Meera, saying, "Come to me, my child. You will never be cold or hungry again." Tears streamed down Meera’s face as she tried to hold onto the vision. She lit matchstick after matchstick, hoping to keep her mother close.
When the last matchstick burned out, Meera closed her eyes and smiled. She felt as though her mother was holding her hand and leading her to a warm, peaceful place.
The next morning, the townspeople found Meera sitting peacefully in the corner, her face lit with a soft smile. Though her body was still and cold, she seemed to have found the warmth and love she had longed for in life.
From that day on, the townspeople remembered Meera and her struggles. They vowed to care for the poor and lonely, ensuring no one would ever have to suffer the way she did.
Moral of the story: "Compassion and kindness can change lives." Always be mindful of those in need and offer help to those who are less fortunate.
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