Living in societies, especially when you belong to a lower middle class doesn't suit everyone.
House upon house, house upon house, narrow streets, multiple flats, home shops, unleveled gutter caps, stray animals, clothes all over the streets hanging on a wire connecting one house window to another house window, the front ones mostly broken from one side or another.
Religious or strict customs, society and elders, rules, regulations, and obligations.
Forget about "returning before this hour",
the curfew they call it in other countries,
Rather you must get permission every time you leave home.
Not only that but,
Where are you going?
why are you going?
when will you return?
with whom you are going?
And
" If it is not that important just stay at home, not like you will die if you don't go anyway..."
These things seem small but hurt a lot.
These small questions rip you of your freedom.
Controls your "decision-making capabilities" and later you become someone who looks at others to make your decision only to realize
"the decision was yours to make".
Children playing hockey, cricket, football or whatever they are interested in outside of your home and their homes as well, in those unleveled narrow streets, where elders walk in the morning and the evening, mainly because they are looking after their child who is playing.
Some children, who are students and their parents can afford the tuition fee, returning home in groups or just a single brother and sister pair returning,
while sharing what Interesting happened and what the others did not know happened.
With fathers returning late in the night, after working to earn for the sake of their families, the whole day.
Every day, seemed quite harsh yet peaceful, harsh in earning enough to eat and fulfill the needs of the family and peaceful as the family stayed happy and respected, because of the love and manners that existed in the generation.
And, if you look just above the whole middle-class society, like looking at the sky, the high society that was situated right before it, looked like a different world.
Two parallel worlds coexist in such a small area of a small city.
The wide paved roads, highly built infrastructure, the villas that replaced homes, the restaurants, the banks, the schools, the hospitals, everything changed and created to match the picture of that society.
Everything built there was to facilitate the upper class and the workers there were the middle class, the laborers without a doubt belonged to some under-developed villages or just some poor families.
The biggest villa among all those, the villa of the Chawdary of both these societies, was the home of the Hak, the Chawdary Abdul Villa.
Abdul was the grandfather of Hak, who died when he was young.
He lived the childhood of an elite, his father who had one crippled leg, had no plans to marry throughout his life at all.
That's till he met Haks' mother.
She was a distant relative, who came to the city for the first time to study in a university, at the age of twenty.
Not to mention from an under-developed area and she acted sometimes quite strangely but Hak's father only smiled at her lovingly.
A fool in love.
From the first day, he hid a picture of her in his wallet that stumbled into his hands by chance or by destiny.
He was asked to guide her from the stations to her hostel and that is how and when they first met.
The mother however had no such thoughts at all,
At that time, of course.
The four years went by quickly and they only met once or twice a year.
As the days of her graduation came nearer, Aamil, the father of Hak, asked his father to send a marriage proposal to her family.
He, who hated his sons with all his heart, delivered a marriage proposal by stating, "I ask for your daughter's hand for my crippled son in marriage," in front of the whole village. This action put the girl's family to shame by the standards of the society. Despite feeling embarrassed, the girl's family, out of respect for the man's high authority, nodded happily without uttering a word, and the marriage date was set.
It was not a big marriage, nor was it a small one; it was just a mediocre one. It would have been a grand one if it were his daughter's marriage—Abdul's daughter.
He loved and cherished his daughters very much, to the point of kicking both his sons out from a young age.
The younger one survived somehow, but the elder one being sick and crippled had to return home eventually where he worked like a servant.
It was not like Amil was crippled from his birth but that's a different story, for later.
He had his group of friends as well, the group of young boys, many from the orphan homes and only some from his relatives, rich like his father.
Amil suffered a lot throughout his life but he had shaped it very well.
He was a boxer, it was his passion, but the sufferings he went through to learn it were enormous.
He was a good player overall but how could you box on one crippled leg?
He quit it only to submerge it in his body, as a part of him.
He had attained a high post in a government institute, making him an authoritative and wealthy personality.
Since he and his group had won many medals in cricket when they were young, he earned the title of a master spinner.
He was a fabulous baller.
And that as well, he submerged himself, being a crippled.
Aamil, who had no interest in marrying or creating a family had fallen in love, at the age of thirty-three.
His feelings at first, which he tried to hide later were approved by the young lady who had accepted them.
Aamil married at the age of thirty-three and died by the age of sixty.
Alone, in a rental house, because of a lack of oxygen in the oxygen cylinder and because the electricity was cut off and the cloth of Bulgem could not be removed from his tracheostomy tubes, suffocating him to death.