Black Hands

Farwa and Nida were in eighth grade and had been studying in the same school together since the first grade. Their homes were also in the same neighborhood, so they always went to school together. Over the years, they had become very close friends. Farwa’s father worked as a clerk in an office, while Nida’s father worked in a workshop, repairing vehicles.

Every morning, Nida’s father left for the workshop around ten and returned exhausted after eight in the evening. Upon returning, he would immediately wash his hands at the tap in their courtyard. If water wasn’t running from the tap, he would call Nida:

“Nida, bring water in a jug.”

Nida would fetch the water and help wash her father’s hands. It pained her deeply to see that his hands had turned black from grease and grime and that he struggled to clean them. She often wished that her father had an office job like Farwa’s father, with clean and white hands.

Farwa, on the other hand, always had neat and clean hands. Her father cared deeply for her, bringing her favorite things and giving her ten rupees pocket money before school. Nida had begun noticing that Farwa often came to school with extra money and new items. One day, Farwa arrived with a beautiful, wheeled school bag.

“Where did you get this?” Nida asked excitedly.

“My father bought it from a big store,” Farwa replied proudly.

“How much does it cost?” Nida asked, peeking inside. The bag had separate compartments for pens, pencils, rulers, and a lunchbox, and it could be wheeled instead of carried.

Farwa smiled and said, “It’s expensive. You won’t be able to get one.”

“Tell me anyway,” Nida pleaded.

“One thousand rupees,” Farwa said, raising her head.

At home, Nida was quiet. When her mother asked why, she didn’t respond. That evening, when her father returned, Nida approached him lovingly:

“Papa… I saw a wheeled school bag at Farwa’s house. I liked it very much. Can you get me one?”

Her father thought for a moment and asked, “How much does it cost?”

“One thousand rupees,” she replied.

“Dear, I can’t buy such an expensive bag,” her father said gently. Nida’s face fell. Her mother explained, “Nida, with that money, we could cook for several days. We aren’t rich enough to buy such things.”

Nida felt sad. Farwa’s father was a high-ranking officer, and he could afford gifts, but her own father worked hard for every penny. Months passed. Nida and Farwa both did well in exams and were happy. On the first day of ninth grade, Nida noticed that Farwa was wearing an expensive watch.

“How much is it?” Nida asked, touching her wrist to see it.

“One thousand five hundred rupees,” Farwa said. Her parents had given it to her as a reward for her good grades. Nida felt small and wished for such gifts.

Later, Farwa stopped coming to school with Nida because her older brother now accompanied her on a new motorcycle her father had bought for him. Nida had to walk alone, which made her feel tired and lonely. One evening, she asked her father affectionately,

“Papa, how much do you love me?”

“Very much,” he replied, placing his hand on her head.

“Papa, Farwa’s father gave her brother a motorcycle, so she goes to school with him. I have to go alone and get tired. Could we… use the committee money to get a motorcycle for me?”

Her father shook his head. “No, Nida. Remember, during the rainy season, one room of our house collapsed. I need the money to rebuild it.”

Nida’s mother reassured her, “Don’t worry. I will take you to school and bring you back.” Nida continued to suppress her desires, growing more aware of her family’s financial limitations.

One day, she overheard classmates discussing Farwa’s family. Her father had been caught taking bribes and lost his job. Farwa was embarrassed and refused to attend school there. Nida asked her mother about bribes. Her mother explained that people who take bribes are greedy and attempt to satisfy their desires through unlawful earnings, which brings temporary comfort but leads to punishment in this world and the hereafter

That evening, Nida’s father returned home. As he washed his hands at the tap, Nida noticed the black stains.

“Papa, these are black hands,” she said.

Her father smiled. “Black hands belong to those who earn through unlawful means. Our hands may get dirty from labor, but they are honest and pure. My daughter, you have become very wise.”