I opened the paper this morning and there it was—big, bold headlines telling me that Salman Khan had stretched his muscular arms all the way to Punjab. Not to beat up another villain, but to rescue flood victims. The details were all there like a movie poster: 25 boats dispatched, 25,000 food packets sent, and five lakh tablets dropped into the watery abyss.
Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not taking away from the generosity of the man. But I sometimes wonder, why do our acts of charity need a press release, a red carpet, and a selfie? It’s as though the gift is incomplete without applause, as if giving is not about the hungry man’s stomach but about the hungry actor’s ego.
And yet, centuries ago, a carpenter’s son in Galilee said something profound: “Let not your left hand know what your right hand gives.” Imagine that—charity so quiet, so discreet, that even your other hand remains in blissful ignorance.
But today, our giving needs hashtags, influencers, and a hundred retweets. It’s like watching a friend of yours pushing an envelope into the church donation box, then lingering there as if waiting for someone to shout, “Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause!” When no one does, he claps for himself!
The joy of giving is never in the headlines—it is in being invisible. It’s when the one you helped doesn’t even know who you are. It’s when the relief you send doesn’t carry a label or a logo. It’s when the claps you hear are not from people but, dare I say, from heaven.
But alas, in our times, invisibility has gone out of fashion. We want every act of kindness on the front page, with our face stretched into a saintly smile. We want garlands, plaques, and plaques to hang our plaques on. What we don’t want is that quiet joy that makes you stand taller inside—yes Salman, even without your elevator shoes or your high heels.
And while we are at it—what about those poor pavement dwellers once run over by your car? Were their families looked after with the same fanfare as the flood victims? Or is compassion more effective when the cameras are on? Charity isn’t selective, dear Salman—it isn’t flood relief one day and amnesia the next. Being human is not about a brand, but about a heart.
Try it once. The next time you’re tempted to announce your donation, resist the urge. Give without noise. Then go stand in front of the mirror. I promise, you’ll find yourself a few inches taller—not because you’ve worn heels, but because invisibility has a way of adding invisible inches to your soul.
So dear Salman, keep sending those boats and food packets, they’re needed. But maybe, just maybe, let them sail quietly without a film crew following. Because the greatest heroes are not those splashed across our newspapers, but those whom only God sees.
And believe me, that applause from above—though you can’t hear it—is worth far more than the headlines below…!