Firdous Ahmad Malik and Aaliya jan
At the far edge of a quiet village stood a small mud house with a broken wooden door and a leaking roof. In that fragile house lived a boy named Rashid with his sick mother and his hardworking father. Poverty was not just a condition of their home; it was a permanent guest in their lives. Some days the kitchen fire burned with food, and on other days it remained cold with only silence inside. Yet, despite the hardships, Rashid’s eyes always carried a strange light of hope. He had learned at a very young age that life would not be kind to him, but he also believed that life could be changed through effort and intention.
Rashid’s father worked as a daily laborer, lifting stones and bricks under the burning sun. His hands were rough, his back always bent from years of hard work. His mother suffered from a long illness that kept her weak and confined to bed. Rashid, though very young, understood his responsibilities well. Every morning before sunrise, he fetched water from the village well, cleaned the house, helped his mother sit up, and prepared his father for work. Only after completing these duties would he allow himself to think about his own dreams, which he kept hidden deep in his heart.
The children of the village went to school wearing clean uniforms, carrying new bags and colorful books. Rashid watched them from a distance as they laughed and walked together. He had no proper uniform, no shoes, and no money for school fees. Many times, his heart ached with the desire to study, but he never complained. He believed that complaining would not change his life—only effort, patience, and intention would. So instead of crying over what he did not have, he focused on what he could do.
Some wealthy villagers often mocked Rashid.
“You were born poor, Rashid,” they would laugh. “No matter how hard you try, you will die poor too.”
These words cut through his heart like a knife, but he never replied with anger. He would simply lower his gaze and walk away. Inside his heart, however, a quiet voice always whispered, “My destiny is written by my intentions, not by your words.”
Every evening after completing the day’s labor, Rashid went to the village mosque. The old Imam noticed the boy’s curiosity and dedication. He gave Rashid old, torn books and taught him how to read. Those books had missing pages and faded ink, but to Rashid they were treasures greater than gold. Under the dim light of an oil lamp, he struggled to recognize letters, formed words slowly, and read sentences again and again until they settled in his memory. His tired eyes often closed from exhaustion, yet his spirit never grew weak.
One night, the Imam asked him gently, “Rashid, why do you work so hard when life is already so difficult for you?”
Rashid replied in a low and emotional voice, “Because I want to wipe the tears from my mother’s eyes and give dignity to my father’s struggles. I do not want to remain helpless forever. I want to be someone who brings relief to others.”
The years passed quietly, and Rashid grew into a disciplined and humble young boy. Poverty still lived in his house, but hope grew even stronger. One afternoon, an unexpected guest arrived in the village. A government officer from the city was passing through when his car suddenly broke down near Rashid’s village. The villagers gathered around, curious but afraid to help. They stared at the expensive vehicle and the well-dressed officer but remained silent, unsure of what to do.
Rashid, who had been carrying water from the well, saw the situation and ran forward without hesitation. He offered water to the officer and helped push the car with the help of a mechanic from the village. His clothes were dusty, his hands dirty, but his manners were respectful and sincere. The car finally started, and the officer looked at Rashid with surprise and appreciation.
The officer asked, “What is your name, son?”
Rashid replied politely, “My name is Rashid, sir.”
The officer then asked, “Why did you help when everyone else stood back?”
Rashid answered, “Sir, my father taught me that when someone is in trouble, helping them is our duty, no matter who they are.”
Impressed by his honesty, the officer asked another question, “What do you want to become in life?”
Rashid paused for a moment and then said, “I want to study. I want to become someone who can support his parents and serve others.”
The officer observed the boy’s torn clothes, tired eyes, and calm confidence. That moment touched his heart deeply.
Before leaving, the officer gave Rashid his contact details and promised to help him continue his education. Rashid did not believe it at first. He thought it might be just another kind promise that fades with time. But within a few weeks, the officer returned with official documents that secured Rashid’s admission in a good city school along with a full scholarship. For the first time, Rashid felt that the doors of his destiny had opened.
The day he left for the city, his mother wept silently—not out of sorrow, but out of hope. His father placed his trembling hands on Rashid’s head and said, “Son, never forget where you came from. No matter how high you rise, remain humble.” Rashid nodded with tear-filled eyes and promised to stay true to himself.
City life was not easy. Rashid faced many challenges. The students in his school came from rich families. They spoke fluent English, wore branded clothes, and used expensive gadgets. Rashid often felt small among them. Many times, he was mocked for his accent and simple background. But this time, he did not feel broken. He remembered every insult from his village and turned each one into a source of strength.
He studied day and night. He read every book he could find. Teachers soon noticed his dedication. Slowly, his fear turned into confidence. His weak English became fluent. His grades improved. Years passed, and Rashid stood among the top students of his school and later his college. He never forgot to send part of his scholarship and earnings to support his parents.
After many years of struggle, Rashid finally passed the civil service examination. The day he received his appointment letter as a government officer, his hands trembled with disbelief. The boy who once studied under a dim oil lamp in a mud house had now become an officer through nothing but intention, patience, and honesty.
Rashid returned to his village with respect and dignity. The same villagers who once mocked him now gathered to welcome him. Some lowered their eyes in shame. Rashid did not carry any pride in his heart. He met everyone with kindness and humility. The first place he visited was his mother’s grave, who had passed away a few years earlier. With tears in his eyes, he whispered, “Mother, your prayers brought me here.”
He rebuilt the old mosque, opened a small school for village children, and arranged free education for the poor. He made sure no child would suffer the way he once did. The old Imam, with tears in his eyes, said, “Rashid, today you have proved that destiny does not change with wealth—it changes with intention.”
And from that day onward, Rashid’s life became a living example for the entire village. People no longer believed that poverty decides fate. They had seen with their own eyes that sincere intention, honest effort, and patience can rewrite even the hardest destiny.
Author can be mailed at Artistmalik61@gmail.com
Comments are closed.