The Promise of a Candlelight Dream

The Promise of a Candlelight Dream

BY: Ubaid

It was a quiet night in Lahore. The clock had just struck three in the morning, and the entire household was wrapped in sleep. The streets outside were silent, the world resting under a heavy blanket of night. But in a small corner of a dimly lit room, a boy sat hunched over a worn wooden table. A single candle burned beside him, its flickering flame casting shadows that danced on the walls. His eyes were fixed on the pages of an old book.

This boy was Sikandar. At only fifteen years old, he carried dreams far greater than his age or circumstances. Born into a poor family, Sikandar’s world had been shaped by hardship. His father worked as a servant in the home of a wealthy landlord, whom everyone called Sardar Sahib. Life had never been easy, and money was scarce. Still, Sikandar’s heart burned with a deep hunger for knowledge.

Education was his greatest dream, yet also his greatest challenge. His family had no means to pay for school fees, uniforms, or new books. But Sikandar refused to surrender to despair. His resourcefulness kept his hopes alive. Sardar Sahib’s son, Haider, studied at a nearby school. Each time Haider finished a grade, Sikandar would carefully gather the old textbooks and notebooks left behind. In this way, he managed to study up to the fifth grade, teaching himself by candlelight late into the night.

But after the fifth grade, the gap between dreams and reality widened. The subjects grew more advanced, and the old books no longer aligned with the lessons. Sikandar felt trapped—his thirst for knowledge stronger than ever, but his path forward blocked by poverty. That night, as the candle burned low, he lost himself in thought, wondering whether destiny would allow him to study further or if his dreams would forever remain out of reach.

When morning came, he joined his father at Sardar Sahib’s house for another long day of labor. His hands worked, but his mind remained heavy. His usual spark was missing. Noticing the boy’s sadness, Sardar Sahib’s friend—an older man visiting the house—asked him gently,
“Why do you look so worried, my child?”

At first, Sikandar hesitated. His voice faltered. But eventually, his heart spilled open, and he told the man everything—his passion for learning, his sleepless nights, his inability to afford schooling.

The visitor listened intently, his eyes softening with memory. After a pause, he said something that Sikandar would never forget:
“Son, time changes in ways we can never predict. Do you know, there was once a time when I was exactly where you are now?”

Sikandar stared in disbelief. “You?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I was poor and hopeless, but one kind-hearted person came forward and helped me. He gave me a chance to study. But along with that gift, he made me promise one thing—that when my time came, I too would help a student in need. And now, Sikandar, I see in you the very reflection of my younger self. Today is my chance to fulfill that promise. But in return, you must also make me a promise: that one day, when you are able, you too will lift up another child in need.”

Tears welled in Sikandar’s eyes. He nodded silently, a deep fire rekindling in his heart. That very day, the man took him by the hand and led him to a school. For the first time, Sikandar’s dream of education no longer seemed like a faraway star—it was finally within reach.


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Ten Years Later

A decade passed, and life had changed its face entirely. Sikandar was no longer the boy with tattered clothes and borrowed books. He had grown into a man of success—educated, polished, and respected. Dressed in a fine suit, he sat at a restaurant table, enjoying a meal with colleagues. To anyone looking, he was the image of accomplishment.

But then, across the street, something caught his eye. A young boy was crouched on the ground, carefully picking up torn scraps of paper. The boy’s lips moved silently as he tried to piece together words from the fragments. His eyes gleamed with the same hunger for knowledge that had once kept Sikandar awake under candlelight.

In that instant, Sikandar’s heart trembled. He was no longer in the restaurant. He was back in his small room at fifteen, back in front of the candle, back in that moment when someone’s kindness had changed his entire life. He remembered the old man’s words and the promise he had made: One day, you too must help a student in need.

Without hesitation, Sikandar rose from his chair. He walked toward the boy, his footsteps steady with purpose. Gently, he placed his hand on the child’s head.

The boy looked up, startled, and Sikandar smiled. He saw not just a poor child with scraps of paper but a future brimming with possibility. He saw himself.

At that moment, Sikandar knew the cycle of kindness was continuing. Just as a promise once gave him the wings to fly, he was now ready to pass that same promise forward. For in every struggling child lies the seed of greatness—sometimes, all it takes is a hand stretched out in compassion to let it bloom.

And so, under the glow of memory and hope, Sikandar’s story came full circle—not just the story of a boy who dreamed by candlelight, but of a man who kept his promise.