Good Intention.


I arrived at the venue as early as possible,
But maybe that’s the reason of the exam fever.
In the first fifteen minutes I learnt that I come,
but into a total different world of competition.

I knew I ain’t better than any other persons,
Every good parent should teach that.
In life, I failed a lot of time
but my parent make sure I am up again.
And today I face another failure.

The competition, today, is not about what do you know?
It is not about telling the reality but showing in reality.
The competition is about handwriting. How fast are you?
And having heard this my heart skips a beat.

I know I am not good academically, and
everyone knows I am worse handwrite ever.
My friends knew I never lived a second to compete,
Because competition to achieving greatness isn’t my measure.

But for the first time in life, I felt
I need to be sick, sick of success. And I was.

Next to me was a friend, and when it comes to writing, he never lift his pen to take a breath. Among the competitors, I know a guy trained for a day like this. Look, our class monitor we nicknamed him “A PEN” for he knows nothing better than writing.

Then how possible shall I compete and win.
Why is it of any important to go on a battle you are guaranteed to loose?
I looked around we all were given a fountain-typed pens_ not my favorite.


One thing is that, the kids were anxious because
the judges come late, but I’m happy with this.
And deep down in me I was praying, praying for thunder and for rain.
But God didn’t seems to answer for now may be later, He will.

At this moment I have no choice or a way out because, I myself can predict the result; the positions.
I can tell who among us are going to occupied the 1st, the 2nd and the 3rd positions.
I don’t know if rain will come or not but I do know that if rain comes competition ends. Anyway, it was just now a minute to begin.

‘The teacher will read one times you are expected to write his words,’ so they said.
Eyes on clock but mind far away. I have one wish.
At least some good marks to lessen the embarrassment.
All of sudden, I know I have to pray. And I do closed my eyes.

If all the competitors have different gods,
Then for the first time, those gods are going to sit on a round table to negotiate. However, if all the competitors have the same God, then I am happy because it is going to be easy for Him.

Whatever it is, I felt the presence of my God.
I felt his presence in my breath. I felt his presence in my heart that, gave calms and comfort. I felt him took control of my hands, my eye and then my tongue and He made me said things I never would have.


I glowed a smiles for the gods negotiated and now a miracle is going to happen. “God, I know I am not better than any of my fellows. I know they know more than I do. They are better and I am just here almost for no reason. But today, I don’t want be embarrassed and for this reason I come with something different. God, I come not compete. I come to take something home. I left home, I left Mom to bring something big something bigger. Miles away, God, mom is waiting.I don’t want my friend’s failure but today God, let the first position go for the purest intention.” I said this.

Let the kid with the purest intention win the game.
I didn’t claim to be the one. But, God I have hope. everyone wants makes his mother proud. Even you if you had one. But, I am happy you don’t have and that’s why, the game is easy to win.

“Now, help me. Either help me write faster or take over and write faster. Just make it happen.” I don’t know how, I only know its why, but for the first time in my life I know miracles happened because the gods negotiated and… I did it.

Oh! Sorry He did it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: