“Vendor at local Bazar killed my evil”

“Vendor at local Bazar killed my evil”

It was Friday, my mum asked me to visit souk, a local tent market in area “Jumma bazar”. That day was worst for me in many ways but most chiefly, it was nastiest at my work place. My mood was spoiled, motivation was killed, and competency along with perfection giggled around. My academic high grades were mocking at me and the title of “good-student” which I wore for the whole life was fallen down.

                                     

 On the way to market, I thought of all those friends, who were never good in academics, neither attend lectures nor attempt papers properly but still owing good job. And from this point, depression clutches its claws at me. I thought of my class presentations, I was comparing my achievement at academics with my current job and salary package.

I asked to God “Do I deserve this? “I struggled day and night for this day, for this low-salary”. My comparisons with fellows were on strike, from earning to achievements, from past to present, from desire to success hence everything was questions.

With the fast pace of thought I entered in the market, “oh this much noise, I hate these bazars.” My mom was purchasing some veggies and I was busy in sowing the evil thoughts in my mind and suddenly a voice touches my ear-drum.

A middle age man, young but frail, tall and lean, fair colored but darkness in eyes, eyes but seems to be infected may be of Glaucoma. He stood and said aloud in resentment

“ jee bhai kia kaha ap nay, kia kehtay hain wo log mery bary may “

He holds his cart as a supporting stick and he stood. A cart was full of clay pots. The anger in his voice had no match with his physic. 

                                 

His friend replied “wo sabzi wala tumharay liye  bolta hai k mitte k bartan bana k ghar kesy chalta hai ye,kud tou bechara thek se chal nhe paata, kia ammdani hoti hogi, is bechary ki”

I turned to see that man’s face; he might have nothing to say. But with the passing second, he responded.

A response which was a life-time shut-up call for all my questions, ungratefulness, pride, comparisons and thanklessness to Almighty-God.

Now the confidence of this young-old looking man was at peak, his voice like a thunder-storm. It seems some supernatural power is holding him and says “tm bolo, main sath hon tumhary”

And he said these million dollar words,

“han ammdani nhe hoti meri, per bhai ,mujhy ek bat pata hai, Allah Pak usko zaroor nawaztaa hai jo kum cheez pay bhi shukar adda kary. Ab daikh main langra (lame) hon, per shukar hai paaon tou hain, tehla (cart) tou ghaaseeth layta hon, soch agar paaon hi na hoty tou kia karta main”.

I was astounded and more embarrassed; all those questions were drowning in my teary eyes. And I became speechless rather guilty and faded. I looked at that vender and my heart uttered aloud “Alhamdulillah”,“thank you God for everything”