This is the story i have written in my previous grades
A Priceless Gift
A Priceless Gift
Growing up in a third world country; Pakistan, life taught me many hardships and difficulties. We were not so fortunate like many western teenagers or first world countries’ kids to have an excellent standard of education, health and living. Similar to 75% of the country’s population which relies on agriculture for a living, my dad was a farmer. It was a small village; everyone knew each other very well, to the extent that they fully knew about someone’s relatives and their occupations. Most of the people were very friendly, helpful, and great companions of each other in grief or in happiness. They were of one family in different houses.
Mahmood was my childhood friend. We lived on the same street not far from each other’s houses. Although, he was from a lower caste my father never restricted my friendship with him. His parents had to work very hard in the field to earn everyday necessities. His parents loved him more than anything in this world. He was the only child and very well cared for despite having financial difficulties. He used to go to the same school as me, unlike many other lower caste students. His parent’s hope was to see their intelligent and hardworking son become a doctor. Nobody could compete with Mahmood in his punctuality, organization and behavior; he also had a great sense of humor. On the other hand, he lacked one thing - not appreciating and listening to his caring parents. He was a prince in his home. Mom cooked his favorite dishes everyday. She also gave him nicely washed and ironed clothes to wear everyday. His parents also provided him with the best stationary tools to use.
A lot of the time, he would stay out late, and that was annoying to his parents. I remember one time when we were standing under a street light with some other friends and his mother called him “Mahmood, please come home now”. The way he answered vibrates in my head to this day, “Ahh mom, come on 5 more minutes”. His five minutes were typically longer than five centuries. Time always seemed to pass quickly, when he was telling us jokes. And when I think back I think, “Why not - as a seventeen year old, very loved and cared for boy, he didn’t have much to worry about, but his parents”. He could make the earth laugh, make the sky giggle, and make the stars smile. How could you tell, that why it was hard for such an intelligent guy to not realize, what his parents were suffering through. At many points of our friendship, I pointed out to him, “Mahmood, you need to give first priority to your parents. They are the ones who are sacrificing their days and nights, so you could live a better life”. He would reply in a careless tone, “Oh, don’t worry man, I know they love me, I will handle them”. He was right, but at the same time, he was wrong. It’s true that his parents loved him so much and they gave him endless freedom and choice, but he should not have abused that freedom and care.
At some point in our lives, we don’t realize how precious someone in our company or something in our possession is. We only admire what is in others’ baskets. As he reached 18, bad luck knocked at his door. He fell in love with a girl from our village. It was not bad that he was in love, but the worst part was that the girl was from a higher caste society. Getting married to her or attaining her would be almost impossible, like a sun landing on earth without causing any damage. Like always, his parents provided him everything in his life. He asked and urged them to get him the girl of his love. He started love and went too far with it, which meant that living without her would mean a dead Mahmood. He started demanding the girl from his parents, like not a big deal. Eventually, his parents lost in front of their only son and went to ask the girl’s parents, from the upper class family, to marry their son. Expectedly, the higher caste insulted his parents so much that they ordered their servants to throw his parents out of the house. His poor parents could do nothing, but cried for their fate.
At the next meeting, Mahmood asked the girl to run away from her house with him, but she refused. She said we would have to move on and he would have to forget her. It was not a simple thing for him. He sat quietly with burning eyes and started smoking too much to overcome his grief. The next morning I heard voices, crying and people running towards Mahmood’s house. I quickly ran, without my shoes, to his house and entered to find the dead body of my best friend. Early that morning, he had laid down on the train tracks and took his own life. When I think about him, I still cry and miss the old memories and wish I could have made a difference. That day I learned and my heart spoke to me that no matter how important things are to you, no matter how badly you want them, one must remember your parents are the most rewarding and priceless gift to you in this world. So treat them with obedience and respect and to follow their expectations because they will never choose that is not beneficial for you. In fact, they are the only one who loves you more than anyone else in this world.
priceless strory
