Two days before my friend Dravid died, he gave me his picture and I gave him mine. He died in violence two days later. I hold his picture everywhere I go. It’s one of those things I don’t want to lose. If I’m really pissed off, I go somewhere quiet and look at his picture and cool down. Dravid was a person who always helped me out and his photo gives me good luck and helps me to cool down. You know how he died? He died in violence. If I fight or hurt someone, I look at his picture and it makes me regret it. Back then, I used to fight a lot but now I’m cooling down. I don’t want to get into fights anymore. These days, you can be fighting with someone who is holding a knife. So I am trying to get quiet, to slow down, slow down … and his picture helps. When I’m angry or sad, I stop doing what I am doing and then look at the picture for about five minutes. Then I get back to doing something good.

Why did he give his picture to me just two days before he died? I find it weird sometimes. My dad died when I was two years old and my mum holds onto his picture. She holds it just like I hold onto Dravid’s. I don’t know if it brings her the same good luck that Dravid brings to me. I’m just happy I have a picture of him, to remember him. I’ve had the picture for two and a half years now. I keep it on me all the time. I have it on me now. I’ll never lose it.


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