30 April, 2012...
I was in a hurry to leave work so I quickly made my way down the three story building where my office was. Since the office is situated in a main market, the area's always crowded. Different cars go by, different people different beggars etc. It's an ever-changing view.
Half past seven and I knew I was late, and hungry. Time's not given much preference by me on an empty stomach, so I decided to grab some biscuits from a near-by store. That done, I headed towards my bike while still muching on the cheap treats I'd bought. Like always, I felt the urge to light a smoke when I was halfway down the biscuit pack. I somehow supressed that feeling temporalily and lit a cigarette after I was done. I stood there on one side of my bike and I noticed an old man sitting on the other side of my bike. He was eating too, in fact, he was nibbling on a Chapati. Plain Chapati! For readers who're wondering what a Chapati is, it's basically a flat unleavened piece of cooked wheat. And you don't eat it on it's own; people mostly like something to go with it like a stew of chicken, vegetable or pulses. It's probably one of the cheapest things one can buy to eat in Pakistan.
The sight was hard to watch. The man had a long, white beard, wore patched clothes are carried a walking stick which was actually a crooked tree branch. He was definitely tired. Just then, a big, black colored car parked behind my bike and the old man. The driver was probably in his twenties and looked wealthy from his attire and the car he drove. A BMW seven series, with the driver and two girls in the back seat. Two very attractive girls in the back seat. They called a child from the juice shop and gave their respective orders. However, my mind was still on the old man.
With just forty rupees in my pocket, I took out twenty and went over to the man. I greeted him and he greeted me back. I asked him why he was just eating a bland Chapati and nothing else with it. He told me that he just couldn't afford anything else, and the money he bought the Chapati from, were borrowed from someone he knew. These sentences hit me hard, and I handed him the twenty I'd taken out before and took out an extra ten rupees. To my surprise, he rejected the money I offered, held my arm lightly and thanked me.
"May Allah bless you son, but it's okay, I'll manage somehow", is what he said. I kept insisting and urged him to buy something proper to eat, but he just wouldn't accept. It's actually strange how elderly people can be moved to tears so quickly. His eyes were wet as he kept praying for me and kept resisting. I smiled and sat beside him and told him that I just wanted to help. But he just wouldn't listen. I'd attracted one or two children who worked at the juice store. The people in the BMW looked too. To them it was amusing and they began to laugh when I looked towards them.
"Pathetic. Pathetic, spoiled bastards", I thought to myself. I slipped the money in his pocket and told him polietly that I wouldn't hear anything now. He put his hand on my head and prayed for prosperity and my long life. Amen! I greeted him "goodbye" and kick-started my bike and rode off. The BMW people were still in bits, laughing at the scene they witnessed.
All the way back home I wondered what had happened to our morals, our humanity, our kindness. If a 17 year old on a bike has the heart to help the old hungry man, why doesn't the BMW boy? Afterall, what's he got to lose when his pockets are probably full with thousands of rupees?
It's deeply alarming to find out this is what the elite class in Pakistan's like.
I was in a hurry to leave work so I quickly made my way down the three story building where my office was. Since the office is situated in a main market, the area's always crowded. Different cars go by, different people different beggars etc. It's an ever-changing view.
Half past seven and I knew I was late, and hungry. Time's not given much preference by me on an empty stomach, so I decided to grab some biscuits from a near-by store. That done, I headed towards my bike while still muching on the cheap treats I'd bought. Like always, I felt the urge to light a smoke when I was halfway down the biscuit pack. I somehow supressed that feeling temporalily and lit a cigarette after I was done. I stood there on one side of my bike and I noticed an old man sitting on the other side of my bike. He was eating too, in fact, he was nibbling on a Chapati. Plain Chapati! For readers who're wondering what a Chapati is, it's basically a flat unleavened piece of cooked wheat. And you don't eat it on it's own; people mostly like something to go with it like a stew of chicken, vegetable or pulses. It's probably one of the cheapest things one can buy to eat in Pakistan.
The sight was hard to watch. The man had a long, white beard, wore patched clothes are carried a walking stick which was actually a crooked tree branch. He was definitely tired. Just then, a big, black colored car parked behind my bike and the old man. The driver was probably in his twenties and looked wealthy from his attire and the car he drove. A BMW seven series, with the driver and two girls in the back seat. Two very attractive girls in the back seat. They called a child from the juice shop and gave their respective orders. However, my mind was still on the old man.
With just forty rupees in my pocket, I took out twenty and went over to the man. I greeted him and he greeted me back. I asked him why he was just eating a bland Chapati and nothing else with it. He told me that he just couldn't afford anything else, and the money he bought the Chapati from, were borrowed from someone he knew. These sentences hit me hard, and I handed him the twenty I'd taken out before and took out an extra ten rupees. To my surprise, he rejected the money I offered, held my arm lightly and thanked me.
"May Allah bless you son, but it's okay, I'll manage somehow", is what he said. I kept insisting and urged him to buy something proper to eat, but he just wouldn't accept. It's actually strange how elderly people can be moved to tears so quickly. His eyes were wet as he kept praying for me and kept resisting. I smiled and sat beside him and told him that I just wanted to help. But he just wouldn't listen. I'd attracted one or two children who worked at the juice store. The people in the BMW looked too. To them it was amusing and they began to laugh when I looked towards them.
"Pathetic. Pathetic, spoiled bastards", I thought to myself. I slipped the money in his pocket and told him polietly that I wouldn't hear anything now. He put his hand on my head and prayed for prosperity and my long life. Amen! I greeted him "goodbye" and kick-started my bike and rode off. The BMW people were still in bits, laughing at the scene they witnessed.
All the way back home I wondered what had happened to our morals, our humanity, our kindness. If a 17 year old on a bike has the heart to help the old hungry man, why doesn't the BMW boy? Afterall, what's he got to lose when his pockets are probably full with thousands of rupees?
It's deeply alarming to find out this is what the elite class in Pakistan's like.
No comments:
Post a Comment