From Village to Pardes: The Journey of Suliman By Ishfaq Ali

A Boy with a Simple Dream

Suliman wasn't born into wealth.

He came from a quiet village far from city noise, where people woke with the sun, worked the fields, and prayed for rain. Life was simple, often tough, but full of values.

His father was a farmer, his mother cooked on a clay stove, and his little sister studied using used books.

Their roof leaked during the monsoons, and sometimes dinner meant just a small handful of rice. Still, they stood tall.

Suliman was different—not because he wanted more for himself, but because he wanted more for them.

He wanted to fix the roof, send his sister to school, and make sure his mother didn’t worry about food. But in a place where even dreams cost too much, he needed a plan.

Whispers of a Distant Land

In the village square, young men spoke about a faraway land called Pardes—a foreign country where work paid in real money.

There were jobs like construction, cleaning, and driving—not fancy, but enough to survive and support a family.

The idea planted itself in Suliman’s heart like a spark.

He borrowed money, gathered papers, and made the hardest choice of his life—leaving home. On the day he left, his mother cried as she packed his bag. His sister tied a red thread around his wrist for luck.

He didn’t look back as the bus left.

But inside, something broke.

A Hard Landing

When Suliman arrived in Pardes, the dream faded.

The air smelled of concrete, not freedom. Tall buildings stood over silent workers who moved like shadows. He shared a tiny room with six others, barely enough space to sleep.

The language was foreign.

The food was strange. The loneliness was sharp.

He started working as a laborer on a construction site.

Twelve hours a day under an unforgiving sun. Blisters on his hands, sweat on his brow, and orders shouted in a language he couldn’t understand.

Some days, his salary was late.

Some weeks, there wasn’t enough to eat. He once went three days on water and dry bread. But he didn’t complain. Because back home, his sister needed school fees. His mother needed medicine.

Breaking Through the Struggle

Despite the pain, Suliman didn’t give up.

He watched, learned, and started picking up basic Arabic and English. He helped injured coworkers, stayed late when others left, and earned quiet respect from his bosses.

A year passed.

He was promoted to site assistant. The raise was small, but it brought pride. More importantly, it meant he could now send money home regularly.

His family used it to fix the roof.

His sister returned to school. His mother no longer skipped meals. The house that once echoed with worry now breathed easier.

Every coin Suliman earned came soaked in sweat, but carried hope.

The Return Home

After four long years, Suliman returned to his village.

He stepped off the bus with a weathered face and tired eyes, his hands rough from years of hard work. He looked older than his age, but walked with quiet strength.

His mother ran to hug him.

His sister showed him her schoolbooks. His father, once quiet with shame, now held his head high with pride.

Suliman hadn’t returned rich.

He didn’t wear branded shoes or gold chains. But he brought something far more valuable—dignity, stability, and a future.

A Silent Hero Among Millions

Suliman’s story isn’t rare.

Across many parts of the world, thousands of boys leave their homes each year in search of better lives abroad. They don’t become famous. Their names don’t appear in headlines. But they build lives—brick by brick, tear by tear.

What makes Suliman’s story special is his purpose.

He didn’t chase luxury. He chased love. Every sacrifice he made wasn’t for himself, but for the family he left behind.

> “ Pardes didn’t give me comfort.

But it gave me dignity. And that was enough. ” — Suliman

Final Note

Suliman is one of many silent heroes who endure distance, pain, and struggle for the sake of family.

His story is not just about migration—it's about courage, duty, and a love that crosses borders.

If you know someone like Suliman—a father, brother, friend, or neighbor—share this story.

Let’s honor the strength behind their silence.