The Best Life

The Best Life

In a small mountain village surrounded by pine trees and singing rivers, there lived a poor cobbler named Rahim. Every day, he sat in front of his tiny workshop mending old shoes. His hands were rough, his clothes were simple, but his face carried a calmness that no rich man in town could match.

People often wondered how Rahim could smile so easily despite having so little. The shopkeepers in the bazaar argued about it.

“Maybe he’s mad,” one said.

“Or maybe he hides his sadness,” said another.

But the truth was far simpler — Rahim had discovered what he called “the best life.”

One winter morning, a wealthy merchant named Kareem came to Rahim’s shop. His coat was thick, his shoes polished, and his eyes full of pride.

“Cobbler,” he said, “I need my boots fixed before I travel. I’ll pay you double if you finish them today.”

Rahim smiled. “As you wish, sir. Please rest; I’ll have them ready soon.”

Kareem sat nearby, watching Rahim hum softly while working. He noticed that Rahim’s tea was made in an old, cracked cup. His bench was rough. Yet the cobbler seemed more at peace than anyone he knew.

Finally, Kareem asked, “Tell me something — how can you be so happy when you have nothing?”

Rahim looked up, wiped his hands, and said, “Because I don’t need everything to be happy. I only need enough — and gratitude.”

Kareem frowned. “Enough? Gratitude? That’s too simple.”

Rahim smiled. “Then let me tell you a story.”

“When I was young,” Rahim began, “I too wanted to be rich. I worked for a landlord who had gold, servants, and feasts every night. I thought, ‘One day, I’ll live like him.’

But one evening, the landlord’s wife fell ill. Despite all his wealth, he could not buy her health back. He sat in silence, crying. That night, I realized something: riches can buy comfort, but not peace.

So I left. I opened this small shop, earned just enough to eat, and thanked Allah every day for what I had. Since then, I have slept peacefully every night. That, my friend, is the best life.”

Kareem laughed politely. “Nice story, cobbler, but peace doesn’t pay the bills.”

Rahim chuckled. “True. But wealth without peace feels like a palace built on sand.”

Kareem said nothing more. He took his boots and left, but Rahim’s words echoed in his mind all the way home.

That night, surrounded by gold and servants, Kareem could not sleep. The ticking of his clock felt louder, the silence heavier. He rose, walked to his window, and looked at the stars — small, bright, and free.

The next morning, he returned to Rahim’s shop.

“Cobbler,” he said quietly, “I haven’t slept since I met you. I keep thinking about your words. Tell me, truly — how do I live the best life?”

Rahim smiled kindly. “The best life isn’t about how much you have, but how deeply you appreciate what you have. Wake up thankful. Help someone every day. Eat with peace. Pray with heart. Smile even when things are hard. That’s all.”

Kareem nodded, eyes moist. He handed Rahim his golden watch. “Take this — I don’t need it anymore.”

Rahim refused. “No, my friend. Keep it. But remember: time is not gold — it’s life. Spend it wisely.”

From that day onward, Kareem changed. He helped the poor, treated his workers kindly, and stopped chasing endless profit. People noticed that his laughter became lighter, his eyes gentler.

Years later, when Rahim passed away, the entire village attended his funeral. Kareem stood beside the grave, whispering, “You were the richest man I ever knew.”

Moral:

The best life is not the life of luxury - it is the life of gratitude, peace, and purpose.