The Chaudhry’s Haste

The Chaudhry’s Haste

BY: Ubaid.

Once upon a time, in a peaceful little village, there lived a Chaudhry—a landowner known for his calm temperament and traditional ways. In his grand haveli lived his trusted servant, a hereditary helper known as Miraasi. Both master and servant belonged to a community famous for their slow-paced lives. They were people who never rushed through anything; their motto could easily have been, “Why do today what can be done tomorrow?”

One lazy afternoon, the Chaudhry was sitting on his charpoy, enjoying a plate of freshly fried pakoras. When he was done, he began absentmindedly reading the newspaper that had been used to wrap them. His eyes caught a headline that made him pause mid-bite:

“Department of Agriculture Introduces New Hybrid Wheat Seed — Promises Double the Yield!”

The Chaudhry’s eyes widened. Double the yield? That sounded like fortune knocking right on his mud-brick gate. He immediately called a meeting with his servants to discuss this “modern miracle.”

Under the shade of a large banyan tree, the council of villagers gathered. They sipped tea, stroked their beards, and shared their thoughts in long, drawn-out conversations. The discussion went on not for hours or days, but for months. They debated the pros and cons, consulted elders, and even asked the village maulvi if modern seeds were halal.

Finally—after a full year of “careful consideration”—they reached a decision.

“Yes,” said the Chaudhry solemnly, “we shall buy the new seed for our next crop.”

As the next sowing season approached, the Chaudhry called his loyal servant Miraasi. “Go to the city,” he instructed, “and bring the finest hybrid wheat seed available.”

Miraasi, though reluctant to leave his comfortable routine, obeyed his master’s command. He packed a small bag, climbed aboard a creaky old lari (truck), and began the long, bumpy journey to the city.

When he finally arrived, tired and covered in dust, he decided that before buying the seed, he needed rest. So he went to stay with one of his relatives in the city. The warm hospitality, delicious food, and city lights were too tempting to ignore.

One week turned into one month, and one month quietly rolled into a whole year.

Miraasi enjoyed the comfort, made new friends, and often told stories of how he once served the great Chaudhry of his village. Every time someone reminded him of his mission, he waved his hand lazily and said, “Don’t worry! There’s always next season.”

Back in the village, another year passed. When the season for sowing returned, the Chaudhry suddenly remembered his servant and the promised miracle seed.

“Where is that good-for-nothing Miraasi?” he shouted, slapping his thigh in frustration. “The time to sow the fields is upon us, and he hasn’t returned!”

This time, the Chaudhry decided to act fast. He sent another servant to the city with strict instructions: “Find Miraasi and bring him back—no delays!”

After a long search through crowded bazaars and tea stalls, the servant finally found Miraasi lounging comfortably at his cousin’s house, eating roasted corn.

“The Chaudhry is furious!” the servant cried. “He says you’ve delayed too long!”

Startled, Miraasi leapt up. “Oh, heavens! I completely forgot the seed!” He rushed to the market, bought a sack of the hybrid wheat, and began his journey home.

The return trip was long and tiring, but he imagined how pleased the Chaudhry would be to see him finally arrive with the precious seed. When the village came into sight, dark clouds gathered in the sky. By the time he reached the haveli, it was pouring rain.

The courtyard had turned into a muddy swamp. Still, Miraasi struggled through, balancing the heavy sack on his back. Just as he stepped through the main gate, his foot slipped.

With a loud thud, he fell face-first into the mud. The sack burst open, and the precious wheat scattered into the dirty puddles, ruined.

The Chaudhry, hearing the commotion, ran out in alarm. Seeing his servant lying there, covered in mud and guilt, he rushed forward to help.

But before the Chaudhry could offer his hand, Miraasi raised one muddy arm and said in a dramatic tone,
“Please, Chaudhry sahib… don’t trouble yourself. Your haste has destroyed us!”

The Chaudhry froze. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. His face turned pale as realization hit him.

All this time, he had prided himself on his patience, yet the one time he decided to act “quickly,” everything went wrong.

The irony was bitter—and the moral painfully clear.

From that day on, the Chaudhry learned to value balance: neither endless delay nor reckless haste brings success. Wisdom lies in knowing when to act.

As for Miraasi, he took the incident as a sign that slow living was, indeed, the safest way. Whenever someone asked him about the seed incident, he’d chuckle and say, “See what happens when people rush things?”


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Moral:
Haste makes waste. Patience and prudence are the true companions of success.