The Wealthy Poor Man

Sitting inside his large, luxurious car, Seth Fareed was enjoying a full plate of seekh kebabs and shami kebabs with hot bread. Beside him sat his son, almost the same age as Shahzad, relishing creamy malai boti. They were regular customers at this hotel. Meanwhile, Shahzad worked as a waiter outside the restaurant.

The aroma of kebabs intensified Shahzad’s hunger, but all he could do was watch people eat with longing. His job was to take orders from customers sitting in their cars and serve them food. In this world, Shahzad had no one except his poor uncle, with whom he lived.

He had only been working at the hotel for a few months. His salary was meager, barely enough to survive. The food at the hotel was extremely expensive, and Shahzad could never afford to buy it himself. Occasionally, when the owner was in a good mood, he would feed all the workers, but that happened only once or twice a month. Shahzad dreamed of becoming rich someday—of ordering food freely and having a waiter serve him respectfully and follow his commands. But that dream seemed far from reality.

Slowly, Shahzad began to develop feelings of inferiority. Watching Seth Fareed made him feel even more miserable. He would think how fortunate Seth Fareed was and how unlucky he himself was. His uncle often advised him not to be sad, saying that every person’s life in this world is different and that only Allah knows the wisdom behind giving each person their circumstances. One should always be grateful.

Shahzad would ask, “But uncle, why are we poor?”

His uncle would reply gently, “Son, we are not the only poor people. There are millions like us. The rich have their own problems, and the poor have theirs. Allah tests everyone. No one is here forever. The successful one is the one who remains content with Allah’s will.”

Sometimes Shahzad argued with his uncle, and sometimes his words gave him peace. But after a few days, he would forget everything and fall into sadness again.

That day too, Shahzad was watching people eat with deep sorrow. It was the rainy season, and the hotel was crowded with people enjoying themselves. Seth Fareed’s car arrived and stopped outside. Once again, Shahzad felt envious of his fate and walked toward the car with heavy steps to take the order.

“Sir, what would you like to have?” Shahzad asked.

A shadow of sadness spread across Seth Fareed’s face. “Bring ice cream,” he said quietly.

Shahzad was surprised. Every time Seth Fareed visited, he ordered proper food. This was the first time he had asked only for ice cream. At that moment, the hotel owner, who was also Seth Fareed’s friend, arrived and said jokingly, “Fareed Sahib, will you satisfy your appetite with just ice cream today?”

Seth Fareed’s sadness deepened. “I have eaten and drunk enough in life,” he replied slowly. “Now I can only eat ice cream.”

The owner looked shocked. “Why? Is everything alright?”

“What can I say, Qamar Sahib?” Seth Fareed replied softly. “I have throat cancer. For now, I can’t eat anything except ice cream. The doctor has strictly forbidden solid food.”

He spoke slowly, as if his throat was in pain. Shahzad listened in stunned silence, his eyes wide open. He turned to bring the ice cream, but his mind was racing. His uncle’s words echoed in his thoughts—that Allah tests everyone.

At that moment, Shahzad realized something profound. He might be poor, but he possessed the greatest wealth in the world: good health. Compared to Seth Fareed, who had wealth, luxury, and status but was suffering from a life-threatening illness, Shahzad suddenly felt richer.

For the first time, his heart felt light. His envy vanished, replaced by gratitude. He understood that wealth is not measured by money, cars, or food, but by blessings that often go unnoticed—especially health. Standing there, holding the ice cream tray, Shahzad felt that he was far wealthier than the man sitting in the luxury car.