A Rainy Evening in Islamabad: A Lesson in Dignity

A Rainy Evening and a Lesson in Dignity

BY:Khan

Sometimes, we see so much negativity around us that goodness becomes invisible. What if, instead of giving importance to evil, we focused on the goodness that exists? By valuing goodness, we help it grow, and that is the only way to curb the evils of society.

It was a pleasant afternoon when I left home. The skies above Islamabad were clear, and the car moved smoothly along the clean, broad road that curved toward the Margalla Hills. The beauty of the moment was almost perfect—until suddenly, the weather changed. The sky grew dark, and clouds began to gather. Soon, the traffic slowed and then stopped altogether. Perhaps there had been an accident. Cars lined up in long rows, and as the drizzle began, a sense of frustration crept into the air.

Street children appeared out of nowhere, clutching small bouquets of flowers. They walked between the cars, tapping on windows, persuading people to buy just one bunch. A young boy approached my car, tapped on the glass, and pleaded with his eyes. I opened my purse, found a five-rupee note, and handed it to him.

“Take this,” I said softly. “I don’t need the flowers.”

He smiled, his face lighting up with joy, and ran off with the note.

Not long after, a woman came with the same request, asking me to buy flowers. Irritated, I handed her some money as well, refusing the flowers again. I was beginning to feel restless. The traffic wasn’t moving, the drizzle was picking up, and one after another, beggars kept knocking on the car window.

“Don’t give them anything, madam,” the driver said firmly. “Until the road clears, they won’t let you live in peace.”

I nodded and followed his advice. Soon, several beggars left disappointed when I ignored them.

But then, I noticed a boy about twelve years old. He stood apart from the beggars, clutching a stack of evening newspapers in one hand. In his other hand, he held a sack, which he now used as a makeshift umbrella over his head. The rain dripped off his small frame, but he seemed determined.

“Madam, please buy a newspaper,” he said, tapping gently on the window.

I had already made up my mind not to respond to anyone else. I looked away, pretending not to notice. The boy walked on, trying his luck with the cars ahead. A few minutes later, he returned to my car, this time more desperate.

“Please, madam. I’m a student. I haven’t sold a single newspaper all day. If you could take just two, it would mean so much.”

Against my own resolve, I turned and looked at him. His eyes were innocent, his face soaked with rain, and his voice carried a sincerity that touched my heart.

“Today, I really need the money,” he pleaded. “My mother is waiting at home, worried because I’m late. Our house is far. Please, whatever you buy, I’ll be able to take something back for her.”

I sighed. My first thought was, Poor child, struggling in this weather. At least let me help him. I reached into my purse again, pulled out a ten-rupee note, opened the window slightly, and handed it to him.

“Keep this,” I said gently. “No need for the paper.”

The boy’s expression changed instantly. He held the note for a moment, then shook his head.

“My mother has forbidden me from taking charity,” he said firmly. “If you want, you can take three newspapers for ten rupees. Otherwise, please take your money back.”

His words stunned me. He extended the note toward me, waiting for my decision. For a moment, I felt a strange mix of shame and admiration. Reluctantly, I nodded, and he quickly placed the newspapers in my hand.

As he walked away through the drizzle, weaving between the cars, there was a calm satisfaction on his face. Despite the hardship, he carried himself with dignity, content that he had earned his money honestly.

I sat in silence, holding the damp newspapers, my heart heavy with reflection. Among dozens of beggars that day, only this one boy stood out. He was poor, yes, but not willing to compromise his dignity. His mother had raised him with values so strong that he refused to accept charity—even when life pressed hard against him.

That moment humbled me. I realized that real poverty is not the absence of money, but the loss of self-respect. And real wealth lies in values, in the courage to face hardship with honesty.

As the traffic finally cleared and the car moved forward, I kept thinking about that boy and his mother. Women like her deserve to be saluted—for raising their children to believe in hard work and lawful earning.

If more people in our society thought like that young boy—choosing patience, honesty, and dignity over easy charity—the face of our nation would change. Perhaps then, the streets of our cities would no longer be filled with beggars but with hardworking children striving for a brighter future.

That rainy evening in Islamabad taught me something unforgettable: goodness does exist. Sometimes, it appears in the most unexpected places—in the soaked hands of a little boy who chooses dignity over charity.

And that goodness is worth seeing, remembering, and spreading.