- 13 Oct - 19 Oct, 2018
- 02 Jun - 08 Jun, 2018
Everything’s perfect when there’s justice and equality. There are no question and objections when everyone gets a fair and equal share of what they want. But that hardly happens so.
The problem arises when there’s injustice. Now how would someone define injustice? Injustice is found at every step of life. But we all have different definitions of injustice. Did anyone ever wonder who in this world created this concept of injustice? And did he realise what happens as a result of it.
Generally, injustice in family matters occurs when something is unequally divided. There are plenty of things that are usually unequally divided among siblings or parents. No one intends to do this or plans to make things go wrong, but these are beyond anyone’s control. They just happen.
Parents love is something very important. In simple words, parents love should not be divided among children like pieces of cake, which is never measured accurately. A pizza, on the other hand, is divided equally and so the love of parents for their children can never be divided.
Some people compare love with money. One cannot judge whether they are right or wrong. Money has become a measuring tool that measures love these days. The question is what do they want? Do they want love or do they desire money?
Is love what children demand these days or is it money? The answer to this in my opinion is age. During young age, it’s love that kids need and when they are adults, they seek money. This is what happens in most cases, but not in all cases. Morality still exists these days.
This story is about a wealthy old man who did not divide his love equally among his children during their youth. And as his sons grew up, he received the same love back. For the last years of his life he regretted this and blamed himself for the remaining years of his life.
Dawood Chughtai had crossed 60 years of age. He was one of the wealthiest people in Lahore. He owned more than 10 plots in different societies and also owned an entire building of apartments. Recently, he acquired two cinema houses and a famous shopping mall.
He was a kind of multimillionaire.
None of his earned money was black because he was very strict about earning lawfully. He had a good reputation in the city but slowly he had cut himself off from everyone except his family.
For the last two decades, his family life remained really complicated. Hardly anything seemed fair in his family matters. He had not handed over any of his property to his children, for he was planning to hand it over after his death as a means of inheritance.
One Tuesday morning in his bungalow, he woke up and after taking a bath went straight to the dining table. He then went towards the lounge, sat on his sofa and started reading the newspaper.
After seeing the time, he looked around and called out one of his servants. The chef came from the kitchen immediately and said, “Yes, sir?”
“Where is Haroon?” Dawood asked.
“I’m sorry sir, I have no idea.”
“It’s time for my insulin, he must be here somewhere.”
Another servant passed by and reported as he heard their conversation,
“Sir, Haroon is not at home”
“He is not?” Dawood got surprised.
“He left early, as he had a job interview today.”
“Oh, yes!” Dawood remembered and smiled, “you’re right, I remember he had to go for the interview today.”
The servant nodded his head slightly.
“So, can anyone of you bring me the insulin. I’ll inject it myself”
“No, sir.” The chef spoke kindly. “Don’t do it by yourself. Just give me a moment, I’ll come and inject it.”
“Ok, but be careful.”
The chef left to get the insulin.
There was a private hospital at a distance. Dr. Bilawal Chughtai, Dawood’s eldest son, worked there as an orthopedic surgeon. He parked his car nearby and stepped outside. He was wearing a white lab coat and held a leather brief case. His cell phone began to ring. Before answering it, he checked the caller’s ID. It was an unknown number, so he answered reluctantly, “Hello?”
“Dr. Bilawal?” the caller spoke with very low voice.
“Who is it?”
“Sir, my daughter’s leg got fractured few days ago.”
“Who am I speaking to?” Bilawal asked rudely.
“My name’s Wahab. I wanted to consult you for my daughter’s injury.”
“Wahab who? Who are you and how did you get my number?”
“Sir, my daughter needs a surgery.”
“Ok, so get an appointment.” Bilawal said trying to avoid the caller.
“Sir, I can’t afford the expenses.”
“Then don’t waste my time. Take your daughter somewhere else”
“Sir, my daughter’s in pain. Please I really need your help.”
“I can’t do anything about that.”
Bilawal disconnected the call immediately.
“Stupid people,” he commented.
He locked his car and walked towards the hospital.
Three hours later inside the hospital’s ward, Bilawal came out of the operation theatre. He came by his secretary and asked her, “Any calls lately?”
“Let me see, give me a moment please,” she responded.
His secretary checked the call history and said, “Sir, there are three calls.”
“Really? Who is it?”
“It’s your father. He called thrice.”
He gave a careless expression and said, “Alright, I’m leaving.”
“Aren’t you going to call him back?”
“May I ask why? I mean he called thrice, there must be some…”
“It’s not important, forget about him.” Bilawal interrupted. “I better get going.”
He left without bothering to know why his father called.
Outside a printing press, Jasim Chughtai, Dawood’s second son was standing and waiting for someone. His colleague came by and brought tea in two separate cups and handed one to Jasim. He asked Jasim, “So ‘Mr. Journalist of the Month’, have you made your final decision?”
“And you’re sure that we won’t regret this?”
“Relax…” Jasim spoke calmly, “it’s not a big step that we’re taking. We are just changing the two headlines of our newspaper. We have to.”
“I know, but I just think that this eleventh-hour decision could be problematic.”
“Yes, I mean the delay that would occur…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll handle the situation.”
“Everyone’s going to ask us.”
“Don’t worry,” Jasim replied taking a sip. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll just send a single mail to everyone.”
“Everyone? You mean everyone among the staff right?”
“Good… because I know you’re good at coming up with lies in such moments.”
“Lying helps me survive. I did not get this ‘Journalist of the Month’ award for nothing.”
“I agree,” his colleague chuckled.
“Anyways, I have to go home to my wife. In the meantime you carry on with the work.”
They shook hands and Jasim left instantly.
After a moment, his colleague remembered that Jasim told him a long time ago that he and his wife separated, which meant that he wasn’t going to his wife actually and he had just lied to him in order to get the load off.
Inside a white car, Haroon Chughtai, Dawood’s youngest and most favourite son of all was sitting disappointed.
He held his portfolio. Getting upset he kept the portfolio aside and spoke to himself. I just don’t get it. I do my best everytime and everytime I get rejected.
He then looked at his portfolio and said. Maybe I’m not good enough.
Getting upset, he stepped outside the car and wondered. My brothers are better than me. Our talent and capability is not equally divided. I’m not as successful as they are.
He then went towards a medical store nearby and asked for the insulin.
“We don’t have any,” replied the storekeeper.
“Is there any other medical store around?” Haroon asked curiously.
“Well, there is one but it’s quite far away.”
“Ok, where is it?”
The store keeper explained the complicated route that led to a medical store. But for the love of his father, Haroon left straight for the store as he had to buy insulin by all means.
As he opened his car’s door, he heard his cell phone ringing. He checked to see and the caller’s ID displayed the name ‘Zoya’.
He hesitantly answered the call, “Hi Zoya?”
“Haroon, how are you?” the woman on the other side of the call delightfully spoke. “You haven’t returned my calls lately!”
“Yeah, I’m sorry”
“So can we meet today, in the evening?”
“I’d love to but… but you know... I…”
“Come on Haroon, we haven’t met for weeks. Can’t you spare just an hour today?”
“Zoya, you know I spend my evenings with my dad. But we can meet tomorrow afternoon.”
“Haroon, you only spend your valuable time with your father. Aren’t I your family too?”
“You are, you definitely are, but at the moment, I want to be with him. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be with you, I promise!”
“I am your wife, Haroon,” she said, as if trying to remind him.
“I know, I know and I’m happy and thankful for that but I just need some more time to give our relationship a better understanding.”
“Ok...” she spoke after a pause, “let’s just hope for it.”
“Alright, we’ll meet tomorrow then.”
That evening as Haroon returned home, he went straight to his father’s room. The room’s door was open. After entering inside, he walked straight towards his father and touched his father’s feet. Dawood kept his right hand over Haroon’s head and greeted nicely.
“So, how was your day son?”
“Good,” Haroon replied courteously.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Let me change, then we’ll talk.”
“Ok son, we’ll meet in the lounge.”
“Sure, dad,” Haroon said and left his father’s room.
After five minutes, the father and son were seated together in the lounge. Dawood looked at his depressed son and asked him, “So you got rejected today?”
“Umm... Yes,” Haroon said in a disappointing tone.
“So what?” Dawood tried to cheer him up. “Apply for another job and then hope for the best.”
“Look son, I know you’re upset. But you don’t really have to be. I am here for you. I’ll support you financially.”
“No dad, please don’t say that… I mean... I appreciate your support but I just don’t like it that way.”
“Look, within few months if you get a job then it’s fine. Well and good. But otherwise, I will give you a capital after which you can start your own business.”
“No dad, I can’t accept that,” Haroon replied in a serious and honest tone. “I’m sorry, but I won’t take your money.”
“What about your wife? Are you going to stay away from her as long as you don’t get a job?”
“I have no other option,” Haroon replied.
“Look son, Zoya wants to spend some time with you. You should consider her feelings and let her move in.”
“I will dad, but when the time is right.”
“Ok, anyway. I tried calling Bilawal today and even called on his office number.”
“So, how is he?”
“How would I know?” Dawood spoke sarcastically. “When Mr. Doctor didn’t answer my calls.”
“Well, he must be busy today.”
“Oh please, he is always busy. That’s his only excuse. He has no time for us at all. When was the last time he answered my call?”
“I don’t know,” Haroon tried to avoid the conversation.
“Three months ago on Eid.”
“Ok, let’s not talk about him. Please change this subject.”
Dawood remained silent looking aside getting upset.
“I miss mom,” Haroon spoke. “I’ve been thinking about her lately.”
“Yes, even I miss your mother. She was a very kind lady.”
“I was quite young when she passed away but I still remember each and everything about her. I was sixteen when I came home from school and you all told me that she got a heart attack.”
“The only reason why she died that way was because Jasim did not take the responsibility of taking her to the hospital.”
“Dad, please don’t go there.”
“Look Haroon let me tell you very honestly. I don’t like your brothers at all, they are immoral and irresponsible. They don’t deserve anything from what I’ll be leaving behind.”
“Oh God!” Haroon spoke in a stressed tone, with his hands on his head. “Dad, how can you even think of such stuff. Immoral? Don’t you think that’s a little too hard? Please don’t describe them like this.”
“Son, there’s a lot you don’t know about these two brothers of yours. Someday I’m going to have to tell you everything.”
“Dad, I don’t want to know. All I know is that we are family and we all must have love for each other.”
Dawood looked at his son for a moment and said, “Haroon, you are such a wonderful person with a great heart. I wish my other sons were like you. Kind and honest.”
“They will be like that soon dad, have faith.”
They talked for a while and then had their dinner.
- 13 Oct - 19 Oct, 2018
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