The Debt of Justice Subtitle: Life is temporary, but the cry of the oppressed never dies

The Debt of Justice

Subtitle: Life is temporary, but the cry of the oppressed never dies

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The sun was setting over the dusty road of the village, spreading its last golden rays across the horizon. A strange silence filled the air. In the middle of the village stood an old house, its walls faded with time. This house once belonged to two brothers—Ahmad and Saleem.

As children, they were inseparable. They ate from the same plate, played the same games, and shared every dream. Their parents would often remind them: “Sons, a brother is a shield for his brother.”

But when their parents passed away and the time came to divide the inheritance, greed overshadowed blood ties. Ahmad, being the elder and the shrewder, manipulated the documents and took the larger share of the property. Saleem, the younger, simple-hearted brother, was deceived.

“Let it be… he’s my brother. I don’t care about these papers,” Saleem would console himself. But deep inside, his heart bled with pain.

Years passed. Ahmad prospered, built a business, educated his children, and lived in comfort. Saleem, on the other hand, struggled to feed his family, working hard as a laborer. Poverty crushed his back, yet he carried one treasure in his heart: peace. He had never taken anyone’s right, nor had he wronged anyone.

As time moved on, Ahmad grew old. His hair turned white, and his health failed. Lying on his deathbed, the weight of his sins returned to haunt him. Every night he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, tormented by one memory: “I stole my brother’s right. If he doesn’t forgive me, what will I answer before God?”

One day, Ahmad called his sons.

“Take me to your uncle Saleem,” he pleaded. “I must seek his forgiveness before I die.”

His sons, though surprised, obeyed. They carried their frail father to Saleem’s modest house.

Saleem was in the courtyard, feeding his children. When he saw Ahmad being brought in, frail and weeping, his heart momentarily froze. Ahmad’s trembling voice broke the silence:

“Saleem… my brother… I wronged you. I stole what was yours. My end is near. Please… forgive me.”

Saleem’s face hardened. Years of pain, hunger, and humiliation surged through him. He stood up and said bitterly:

“Brother Ahmad! In your youth, when you had strength, you crushed me. My children went hungry before my eyes, yet you never cared. And now, when death stands at your door, you seek forgiveness? No! I will not forgive you. Go away!”

Tears rolled down Ahmad’s cheeks. He tried to touch his brother’s feet, but Saleem pulled them away. The air grew heavy with silence. Ahmad’s sons wept, but Saleem’s wound was too deep to heal.

Ahmad was taken back, broken and hopeless. A few days later, he died.

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The news spread through the village. Everyone whispered the same lesson:

“Never usurp anyone’s rights. For a few years of worldly gain, don’t wound a heart. The wound of the oppressed stays forever—and in the Hereafter, justice is inevitable.”

Sometimes, in lonely hours, Saleem wondered if he had been too harsh. But then his heart would answer:

“No. The brother who destroyed my whole life—how could I bear his burden in the afterlife too?”

This story became a lesson for the entire village. Parents would tell their children:

“Son, never take what is not yours. For on the Day of Judgment, the oppressed will seize your collar, and there will be no escape.”

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Lesson:

Worldly greed is temporary, but divine justice is eternal. The oppressor may escape in this world, but not in the next. So always uphold justice, protect the rights of others, and live in a way that no one can accuse you before God.

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