The Budding Writer: Ahsan’s Journey from Mockery to Motivation

The Budding Writer

By Muhammad Hasan Danish Mansoori Jassi, Karachi

“Lost in thought again, Ahsan?”
Mr. Shaukat’s voice pulled the boy back from the world of imagination.

“Nothing, sir,” Ahsan tried to brush it aside. But his teacher’s kind insistence led him to confess, “Actually… I was thinking about writing something. I regularly read a magazine, and I even write reviews about it. Now I feel like maybe I should write a piece myself. Perhaps… I could become a small writer one day.”

The moment those words left his lips, the entire classroom erupted in laughter. The sound of mockery echoed against the walls.

Mr. Shaukat quickly silenced the students, his stern yet gentle voice cutting through the noise. “What’s so wrong about that?” he asked the class. “Alongside studies, one should also take part in other healthy activities. Writing, reading, creativity — these are noble pursuits.”

He turned back to Ahsan with a warm smile. “Son, if your article gets published, I’ll give you a special prize myself.”

Those few words of encouragement lit a fire in Ahsan’s heart. His confidence grew, and he made a silent promise to himself: Every year, I will write something new.

Soon the school bell rang. Students slung their bags over their shoulders and poured out of the classroom. Among them was a group of mischievous boys, led by Rafi, the class troublemaker.

As soon as Mr. Shaukat left, Rafi smirked and addressed his gang. “Boys, remember — God gave us two ears so that whatever we hear from one, we can throw out from the other.” His followers burst into laughter at the taunt, mocking Ahsan’s aspirations.

Ahsan picked up his bag quietly and headed for home. But before he could leave the school gates, Rafi, along with Nauman and Faheem, blocked his way.

“Because of you, we were embarrassed in front of the whole class today,” Rafi sneered. “And now… you must pay for it.”

Without warning, they began to hit him. The blows rained down as Ahsan struggled and cried. When they finally let him go, Rafi pointed a threatening finger at him. “Tell the teacher about this, and you’ll regret it.”

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Ahsan stumbled home.

Ahsan was an orphan. He had lost both his parents in childhood and was raised by his grandmother, who loved him dearly. When she saw him enter the house sobbing, her heart sank.

She pulled him into her arms. “My dear child, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

But Ahsan said nothing. He slipped into his room, lay on the charpai, and buried his face in the pillow. Soon, exhausted by his tears, he drifted into sleep.

When he woke, he sat quietly with his grandmother and recounted the entire incident.

His grandmother listened carefully, then stroked his hair lovingly. “My son,” she said softly, “the world will always have more bad people than good. But remember — goodness always triumphs in the end. Never leave the path of honesty and kindness. Always respect your teachers and elders. If you hold on to these values, success will one day bow at your feet.”

Ahsan absorbed every word, his resolve hardening. He would not let cruelty or mockery turn him away from his dreams.

Days passed. Then came the first of the month. As he returned home from school, he stopped at the bookstore and bought the latest issue of his favorite magazine. After lunch, he opened it and began flipping through the pages.

Suddenly, his eyes froze. His heart skipped a beat.
There, printed in bold letters, was his very own article.

For a moment, he could not believe it. He rubbed his eyes, read it again, and again. Yes — it was his work. His thoughts. His words. His creation.

Ahsan’s joy knew no bounds. He ran to his grandmother and uncle, waving the magazine. “Look! My writing has been published!”

His uncle smiled broadly and handed him a hundred-rupee note as a reward. His grandmother’s eyes glistened with pride.

The next morning, Ahsan carried the magazine to school. Entering the classroom, he walked straight up to Mr. Shaukat’s desk, placed the magazine before him, and said in a confident tone, “Sir, this is the result of your student’s effort.”

Mr. Shaukat’s eyes lit up with delight as he read the article. He patted Ahsan’s shoulder. “Well done, my son! This is the spirit. Keep writing, keep improving. One day, you will become a great writer. And I will personally recommend you for a special award from the Headmaster.”

Those words were sweeter than any prize. Ahsan’s heart swelled with determination.

In the corner of the room, however, Rafi sat silently. His face twisted with frustration, as though all his mockery had backfired. His gang, once so full of jeers, had nothing left to say.

That day, Ahsan realized a powerful truth: encouragement from even one kind soul can change a person’s destiny, while ridicule cannot break the spirit of someone who believes in himself.

And so began the journey of a boy who dared to dream — a boy who turned pain into passion, and mockery into motivation.