The Deal

Ravi sat on the old wooden bench near the village tea shop. The sun was high in the sky, and sweat ran down his face. His shirt stuck to his back. It was summer, and the heat was worse than usual. But it was not just the weather that made Ravi uncomfortable — he had a big decision to make, and it was troubling his heart.

Across the dusty road, he saw Mr. Sharma’s shop. Mr. Sharma was the richest man in the village. He had just bought a shiny new car and a big house. People respected him, but many also feared him. He was known to be very clever — sometimes too clever. Ravi knew this well.

That morning, Mr. Sharma had called Ravi into his office.

“I heard your father is very sick,” Mr. Sharma said, sitting in his large chair. “And your farm is not doing well either. Times must be hard for you.”

Ravi didn’t speak much. He just nodded. It was true. His father had been in bed for many days. Their crops were drying up in the heat, and they had very little money left.

Mr. Sharma smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. “I can help you,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty thousand rupees. That should be enough to buy medicine, bring water to your fields, and even fix your broken roof.”

Ravi looked at him, surprised. “What do I have to do for the money?”

Mr. Sharma pushed a paper across the table. “Just sign this. Give me your land. You won’t need it anymore. I’ll take care of it.”

Ravi felt like the air had left the room. That land had been in his family for many years. His grandfather had planted the first mango tree there. His father had taught him how to farm the soil. Every tree, every rock on that land held memories. But fifty thousand rupees… it could save his father’s life.

“Think about it,” Mr. Sharma said. “Come back before sunset.”

Now, sitting on the bench, Ravi watched the sun begin to go down. He only had a few hours left. His mind was full of noise. One voice said, Take the money. Save your father. Another voice said, Don’t sell your land. It’s your family’s soul.

Just then, he felt a small hand tug on his sleeve. It was Meena, his little sister.

“Bhaiya,” she said, “Papa needs water. And Ma is crying.”

Ravi stood up quickly. “Let’s go,” he said.

They walked back home. Inside, the room felt heavy and silent. His mother sat beside his father, her eyes red from crying. His father looked weaker than ever. Ravi gave him some water and stepped outside to think.

He looked at the sky. A few stars were beginning to shine. He felt lost.

I can’t lose Papa, he thought. But I can’t lose our land either. There has to be another way.

Then an idea came to him — simple but honest. It would not be easy, but it was better than losing everything.

The next morning, Ravi went back to Mr. Sharma’s office. Mr. Sharma looked up, waiting for his answer.

“I won’t give you my land,” Ravi said firmly. “But I will work for you. I’ll carry goods, clean, do whatever job you need. Pay me the money you promised, but slowly, over time. I’ll work hard.”

Mr. Sharma raised an eyebrow. “You would rather work like a donkey than take easy money?”

Ravi stood tall. “Yes,” he said. “Because that land is part of my family. It’s not for sale.”

Mr. Sharma looked at him for a long time. Then he let out a short laugh. “You have courage, boy. I like that. Come tomorrow morning at sunrise. Let’s see how hard you can work.”

Ravi smiled for the first time in many days. He thanked Mr. Sharma and walked home.

The road felt brighter now, even in the heat. The decision had not been easy, but it was right. He had saved his land, and he still had hope to save his father. He would work hard every day, and slowly, things would get better.

When Ravi reached home, he sat near his father and held his hand. His mother looked at him with questions in her eyes.

“I didn’t sell the land,” he said softly. “But I found another way.”

His mother smiled with relief. Meena hugged him tightly.

That night, as the stars filled the sky, Ravi felt peace in his heart. The journey ahead would be long, but he had taken the first step — not with money, but with courage.