Walking down the road after the school was always with my friend Sumaiya. On either side of the road was an abundant growth of touch- me-not with their purple shaded flowers that looked so pretty. It was a sport for both of us to keep touching those delicate plants just to see them curling up to a slumber. Very faithfully we -without missing a single plant, like a dutiful young mother -would put them all to their deep sleep with a gentle touch.
Every evening the return from school were vivid with descriptions of the games and dance events at school or how to ask somebody at the cyberspace to help us with our seventh-grade assignments. Because asking our parents who were so busy and tired after a day's work were ruled out.
Whenever we passed by the mosque, we could see an old man who would smile at us. Of course, our childhood was with so many restrictions like not to be friendly to strangers that we were hesitant to reciprocate to this old man's affectionate smile.With little irritation, I asked Sumaiya how dare he smiled at us without a reason not even knowing us. She told me that her Abba had told her that the old man was a moulvi of that mosque and children were dear to him.
Later in our higher grades, we were made to become competent because of the dictum that higher pass percentage can only lead us to salvation and elevate our social status.
After getting placed in the job, one day on my way back home there I could spot the same old man near the mosque. This time I tried smiling respectfully but in vain. I could get only a serious gaze from him. But I was really astonished to see this man with the same old glee as soon as he spotted a ten-year-old child passing by.
For a second I was confused. But had a painful realisation remembering Sumaiya's words that moulvi loved small children and I was no more a child now and never will be one.
Every evening the return from school were vivid with descriptions of the games and dance events at school or how to ask somebody at the cyberspace to help us with our seventh-grade assignments. Because asking our parents who were so busy and tired after a day's work were ruled out.
Whenever we passed by the mosque, we could see an old man who would smile at us. Of course, our childhood was with so many restrictions like not to be friendly to strangers that we were hesitant to reciprocate to this old man's affectionate smile.With little irritation, I asked Sumaiya how dare he smiled at us without a reason not even knowing us. She told me that her Abba had told her that the old man was a moulvi of that mosque and children were dear to him.
Later in our higher grades, we were made to become competent because of the dictum that higher pass percentage can only lead us to salvation and elevate our social status.
After getting placed in the job, one day on my way back home there I could spot the same old man near the mosque. This time I tried smiling respectfully but in vain. I could get only a serious gaze from him. But I was really astonished to see this man with the same old glee as soon as he spotted a ten-year-old child passing by.
For a second I was confused. But had a painful realisation remembering Sumaiya's words that moulvi loved small children and I was no more a child now and never will be one.
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