A/N: Okay, so in school we read a book called Iqbal about Iqbal Masih, I boy from Pakistan who was sold into to help repay off his family's debt. He was sold from master to master until he reached a carpet factory, where he inspired the children and later helped them escape. He traveled to speak out against child labor and got an education in America, where he went through six grades in one year and earned many awards. On Easter Sunday in 1996 (I think?) he was assassainated by the Carpet Mafia at his Grandmother's house. He was only 13 years old. This is a post-book project; I wrote a letter to him. I posted this on request of my friends. Enjoy!! Dear Iqbal, I've said this in many letters: I don't usually write to dead people out of choice. Not that I mind, of course. I would even dare to say that I like it more than writing to living people. I suppose that's one thing to know about me. Just to let you know, you have BOOKS written about you. I would know. I just read one of them in school (which is why I'm writing this letter in the first place, in case you were wondering.) I'd love to write books about fictitious characters and fantasy adventures, but to have one written ABOUT me? That'd be a dream come true! Of course, why anyone would write about me I have no idea. It's no wonder someone wrote a story about you, though. You lived an amazing life! I think the biggest thing that impacted me in the book Iqbal was you: YOU, Iqbal. Don't get me wrong: It was life changing to read about what probably doesn't even come close to what you really had to go through, and children still go through today. It's just that, I knew what child labor was and that it existed, but I never really thought about it, and what I read about was the kind of hardships I expected: I had predicted it to be a grueling, inhumane way to make slaves out of innocent children. It was no shock or surprise to me, although I'm a whole lot more grateful for my family and what I have now. What I didn't expect, however, was to become so inspired by your character. What's more, I wasn't even changed during, or even after finishing the book; it's taken me until just now to realize what raw, pure and simple courage you had to have to bring so much hope for other children around the world. I remember one quote that applies perfectly with you: "Courage is simply the willingness to be afraid and act anyway." -Robert Anthony. Not that I'm an expert at it, but what I think courage is, is doing something difficult or scary for the sake of doing what's right, even though you're actually terrified. You were afraid, weren't you, Iqbal? The great thing is that even though you were probably scared out of your wits, you followed through with your plan to help free the children, hoping and praying that the outcome will be good, not bad. Also, learning about your assassination didn't sit right with me, obviously. It's hard to imagine what kind of person would kill someone so young over something like carpet factories. It makes me so mad that sometimes I want to fly over to Pakistan and give the Carpet Mafia a piece of my mind! (Ah, the spunk of American girls, eh?) Come to think of it, YOU WERE ONLY THRITEEN! I'm about to turn thirteen IN A FEW DAYS! It's so crazy to think that someone who had such a promising future laid out in front of them one minute was my age, and the next minute, all the hopes for any kind of future is just... gone. I want to do something. Something unique. Something big enough to make an impact on at least one person. I've been brainstorming ideas for what I could do, and so far, nada, zero, zilch. I'm hoping that the perfect plan will reveal itself in due time. I'll know it when I find it. In the mean time, I hope you're making a lot of friends in heaven (or wherever you believe people go after death) and an FYI before I go: What you did has not been forgotten, Iqbal. It never will be. Best Wishes, Awesomely Anonymous, 2012
