Lighting Our Own Matches : The Little Match Girl's New Flame
On this frigid Christmas Eve, there was complete silence. Preparations for the next major event were underway in the town. Even with the terrible cold, the town was able to keep breathing thanks to these little preparations and activities. Lights were being strung on the Christmas tree, and someone else was filling the area with balloon decorations. A delectable feast was being prepared, and someone was setting up the musical instruments for the occasion the following day. Amidst all these lively little happenings, a single weary yet lovely voice resounded across the village. Adorable and adorable, an 8-year-old doll was peddling matchsticks made of worn-out fabric as she ambulated through the streets.
However, shopping at large, opulent stores for presents and clothing occupied most people's time and attention. Who wants to buy little matchsticks from a depressed girl? It sounded like she'd been starving for days at the sound of her voice. Instead of a warm greeting, her father will punish her severely if she returns home empty-handed. Her small, delicate pair of legs was tired of walking over the streets; her hands were moaning after knocking on all the doors; and her ears were becoming drowsy after hearing rejections from all the houses. The darkness was falling quickly, and the night was quickly turning into a terrifying one. She sat down near a lovely house to relax after making her way across town. Through the tiny, see-through glass pane, she peered. In the dim light and frigid air, she could barely make out the various items stashed within. In her little knapsack, she carried a number of unsold matchsticks. She retrieved a few and ignited them next to the window. Did she see anything? Number of nice toys, including a white teddy bear'smiling' and sitting on top of them. A brief moment of pure delight washed over her as the matchlight faded, bringing a grin to her pale face and a few tears to her otherwise dry eyes. She felt like she had miniature wings and flew there. Before she could even touch them, Matchstick cheated. She lit another matchstick in a flash. The aroma of mouth watering food beckoned to her from the opposite side, where she could see appetizing delicacies. But before she could even consider tasting it, the match disappeared again. She agitatedly waved the final matchstick as well. She was the only one who loved her unconditionally, and she could see her smiling, late grandmother on the other side of the room. Tears welled up in her eyes as she broke the news to her grandmother.
"Grandma, when this matchstick dies, you will also disappear, as will these wonderful toys, new colorful clothes, and delicious smell. Please take me with you where nothing disappears, where they always stay with me."
A little, motionless body lay near the large mansion the following morning as celebrations took to the streets. The victim appeared to be dumb and frozen. Despite her expressionless face, she beamed with satisfaction. The tragedy that befell the girl began to cause people to feel bad. Little did they know, last night, in the dim light of a handful of discarded matchsticks, she had cherished each and every one of her innocent dreams.
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Taking its cue from the timeless work of Hans Christian Andersen, this story offers a new perspective. Everyone wants to be accepted, even in this greedy, cruel society. But our time here is finite, like a tinderbox. We should use them to satisfy our own wants and needs rather than try to sell them to others. Why don't we let wonder and joy shine into our own lives? We may utilize our "matchsticks" to pursue our passions, express our creativity, connect with loved ones, or just find moments of calm contentment rather than chasing transient external affirmation. A more satisfying life is ours to claim as our own with every glimmer of happiness and self-love that we sow.
[From ‘A Little Match Girl’ by Hans Anderson]
- Harshil
