Reward

When I entered the house, I saw my wife sitting and crying.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Today, at his wife’s insistence, he beat the old woman again—so badly…” she broke down into sobs.

“What does it matter to you? She’s his mother, not yours. Besides, old people tend to argue,” I said, trying to console her.

“You don’t even know—she is paralyzed,” my wife replied bitterly.

“You never told me she was paralyzed. Leave it now—what can we even do?” I tried o change the subject.

“I feel like bringing the old woman to our home for a few days,” she said.

“What? Are you mad? You want to take someone else’s trouble upon yourself?” I snapped angrily.

“Just for a week.”

“No, no. Impossible. And why would he give his mother to us?” I said.

“My sister-in-law often says the old woman doesn’t even die,” my wife replied. “Please agree and bring her here.” Saying this, she sat beside me.

“So now the responsibility of bringing her home is on me too? And have you thought whether you’ll be able to take care of her?” I asked.

“We don’t have children. What else do I do at home besides watching TV?” she said sadly. “If she comes, at least my heart will stay occupied.”

Ten years had passed since our marriage, but we were childless. I thought there was no harm in at least talking about it. What if he agreed? And what if the old woman became our permanent responsibility? I shared my concern with my wife.

“That would be even better,” she said happily.

The next evening, after much thought, I went to their house. According to my plan, I told him that my wife knew how to treat paralysis through recitation of the Holy Quran and wanted to treat his mother. I added that the only condition was that his mother would have to stay with us for at least a week.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her,” I assured him.

His face showed a mix of shame and relief. After a little hesitation, he agreed. I added that the treatment might take fifteen to twenty days. This made him even happier.

“Saeem sahib, I just want my mother to recover, even if it takes a month,” he said.

And so, the old woman became a permanent part of our home.

She was like a bundle of white cotton—frail and weak. Due to lack of proper food and care, her condition had worsened. My wife devoted herself completely to her service. Everything new was bought for her—bed, blankets, sheets, clothes. With good food and care, color slowly returned to her face. A month passed without notice.

At first, her daughter-in-law visited every two days. Then the visits became less frequent, and by the third month, she stopped coming altogether. Neither they asked for her back, nor did we mention it.

Around the seventh month, the son was murdered by his wife with the help of her lover, and later she herself was arrested.

Meanwhile, as the old woman’s health improved, my business began to flourish. It felt as if wealth was raining upon me. Within a year, I owned three shops. In the third year, the three of us—my wife, the old woman, and I—performed Hajj. We bought a 500-yard house in Gulistan-e-Johar and moved there.

The old woman lived with us for seven years, constantly praying for us. We lived in deep happiness. By the blessing of her prayers, Allah granted us children.

Today, she is no longer with us, but her absence is deeply felt.

Recently, my wife was very happy. When I asked why, she said she had seen a dream.

“In my dream, it was the Day of Judgment. Everyone was worried and afraid, including me. Then the old woman came, held my hand, and said, ‘Munira, come with me. I’ll help you cross the Bridge of Sirat.’ We crossed a garden, then reached an open field. She said, ‘That’s it—you’ve crossed.’ Then she laughed, and I woke up.”

I smiled and said, “That’s a wonderful dream. But you didn’t even think of me?”

She replied softly, “Don’t worry. Someone will help you cross too. Ameen.”

I didn’t tell her that I had seen a similar dream—except in mine, the old woman held my hand and said, “Come, I’ll take you to Munira. She’s waiting for you on the other side of the Bridge.”