The Cost of Ignoring a Mother’s Advice

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  The Cost of Ignoring a Mother’s Advice
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  BY:Khan

“Osman, my dear son, don’t play with Nasser,” Mama said firmly one afternoon. “He is not a good boy. I’ve heard he steals, skips school, and spends his time wandering with bad company.”

“But Mama,” Osman protested, “he is my classmate and, more than that, he’s my cousin. I meet him every day.”

Mama’s face grew serious. “My son, never underestimate the influence of bad company. A person is shaped by the people he spends time with.”

Osman tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Mama. Your son will never do wrong. I’ll even try to guide him and make him understand.”

She shook her head in doubt. “Stealing and roaming the streets have become his habit. Do you really think you can change him?”

“Mama, don’t stress yourself. I’ll handle it.” Osman kissed her hand and left the house.

Both boys were in seventh grade. During school recess, when students went out to eat snacks, Nasser was always the most active among his group of friends. Four or five boys followed him like shadows. They would devour spicy chickpeas, crispy gol gappas, or cold ice cream—and Nasser was the one who always paid. Osman was puzzled. Sometimes he joined in, sometimes he used his own allowance, but he kept wondering: Where does Nasser get all this money from?

Osman only received ten rupees a day, barely enough for a small snack. He knew Nasser’s parents weren’t wealthy enough to give him fifty or sixty rupees every day. Finally, his curiosity overcame him.

“Nasser,” he asked one afternoon, “tell me honestly, where do you get all this money?”

Nasser lifted a finger to the sky and said, “From the One above.”

“That’s true,” Osman replied, “but He gives to everyone. I mean, really, where from?”

With a sly smile, Nasser snapped his fingers. “Eat the mangoes, don’t count the trees, brother.”

But Osman pressed him. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

Nasser narrowed his eyes. “You’re too soft-hearted. You won’t have the courage to do what I do.”

“Why not? I also want to spend freely like you.”

“It costs nothing to wish,” Nasser laughed.

“Look, Nasser, please. I want to be your partner. I want to make money too.”

After a pause, Nasser leaned closer. “Are you sure? Think carefully. Once you’re in, you can’t back out.”

“I’m sure,” Osman said eagerly.

The next day, Osman met Nasser at the appointed place. Together they headed toward a poultry farm at the edge of the village. Nasser carried a sack. He crawled through a broken section of wire fencing and disappeared inside. Moments later, he emerged with the sack full of eggs. Handing it to Osman, he said, “Take this to Sheru’s grocery store. He’ll give you cash. Then go home. Don’t worry, he already knows.”

Osman’s heart pounded as he sneaked through the fields, clutching the sack. At the store, Sheru handed him the money. As Osman felt the crisp notes in his hand, his fear faded into excitement. Within half an hour, the boys had earned two hundred rupees.

Osman’s hesitation melted quickly. After several trips, he was the one climbing through the fence, filling the sack, and running off boldly. The thrill of easy money drowned his mother’s voice in his memory.

But as the saying goes, “The goat’s mother cannot celebrate forever.” One day, the poultry farm’s owner came to inspect. He noticed the egg count was lower than usual. Suspicious, he decided to watch the next day.

The following afternoon, just as the boys slipped inside with their sacks, the owner hid nearby. Osman filled his sack and left while Nasser stayed to grab more. Suddenly, the owner appeared. He caught Nasser red-handed.

Meanwhile, Osman was on his way back from Sheru’s store with the money when he saw a motorcycle approaching. On it sat the furious owner, gripping Nasser tightly. Osman froze. The owner pounced on him too. Both cousins were beaten severely before being dragged to the police station.

A theft report was filed. News spread quickly. At school and in the neighborhood, children mocked them, crowing like roosters whenever they passed: “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Both boys burned with shame.

Osman’s parents rushed to the station, pleaded with the farm owner, and paid compensation to secure their son’s release. Nasser’s family did the same. But for Osman, the humiliation cut deep. He remembered his mother’s warning: “Don’t play with Nasser. Bad company corrupts.”

If only he had listened.

That day, Osman learned the hardest truth: ignoring wise advice—especially from parents—can lead to disgrace and regret.