I was leaving the mall after purchasing a gift for a friend. Her birthday was the next day, and after spending hours searching for the perfect present, I finally bought an expensive wallet that I was sure she would love.

It was a chilly evening, and as soon as I left the mall, I immediately felt the real intensity of the cold. The heating system inside the mall had masked the temperature outside. I was trying to find a taxi or bike on the main road when I suddenly felt someone tugging at my shirt from behind.

I was startled when I looked down and saw a young boy who appeared to be about five or six years old, not older than that. He was wearing a shalwar qameez and a worn-out pair of chappals (slippers) on his feet. He had no cap on his head or socks on his tiny feet, only an old V-neck sweater over his shalwar qameez, which surely couldn’t protect him from the cold.

In his hand, he was holding a metal bucket, and it looked like there was some cloth inside it, as far as I could tell.

He asked me, “Baji, anda khana hai?” (Sister, do you want to have an egg?)

During the winter, there are egg sellers roaming the streets, calling out loudly, “Garam aanday!” (Hot eggs!) He was one of those boiled egg sellers. However, I wasn’t in the mood for an egg at that moment since I was still too full from the burger, fries, and soft drink I had earlier.

His hands and face were dirty. I didn’t know if it was from the dust of roaming around all day or if he simply hadn’t been able to wash up at all. I tried to decline his offer, although I don’t remember my exact words. What I do recall is him saying, “Lay lo na baji! Subha se kuch nahi khaya.” (Please buy an egg; I haven’t eaten anything since morning.)

I couldn’t stand the thought of a small child starving in such cold, wearing clothes that weren’t warm enough.

I asked him, “Kitne ka hai?” (How much?)
“50 ka.” (50 for one egg.)
“Teen de do.” (Give me three.)

I bought three eggs from him for 150 PKR.

When he handed me the eggs, they weren’t warm at all; instead, they felt slightly moist from being covered with a wet cloth all day. It was clear that he had kept them in that bucket all day, and they must have been boiled in the morning. As he handed me the eggs, I noticed they were soiled, likely due to the moisture from being handled with his dirty hands. He obviously didn’t have an envelope or bag, so he simply placed the eggs in my hand.

I handed one of the eggs back to him and said, “Ye aik aap kha lena, meri taraf se.” (Eat this one; it’s a gift from me.) He accepted it with a smile and then disappeared into the darkness.

I then threw the remaining eggs into my bag. I had no intention of eating them at that moment; I was just looking for a cab or a bike.

Eventually, I found a bike and rode home. As I searched for the change to pay the rider, I felt the eggs in my bag. I handed the money over to the rider.

“Ye len.” (Here’s the fare.)
“Aur ye bhi len.” (And take this as well — handing him a boiled egg in his gloved hand.)

“Ye kya hai?” (What is this?)
“Anda hai. Khanay ke liye.” (It’s an egg — to eat, of course.)

He smiled, amused. I knew that no passenger had ever given him something like that before. (I mean, a boiled egg.)

After relaxing for a while, I started showing my shopping to my siblings. As I was taking something out of my bag, I discovered a last egg hidden inside. When I pulled it out, my brother asked, “Eww, Daman aapi ye kya hai?” (Eww, Daman aapi, what’s that?)

I replied, “Anda hai.” (It’s an egg.)

He then asked, “Ye apko kahan se mila?” (Where did you find it?)

I explained, “Aise hi aik bacha bech raha tha mall k aagay.” (A kid was selling these in front of the mall.)

“Par yeh ispe ganda kya laga hai? Ab aap iska kya karenge is ganday se anday ka?” (But why is it so dirty? Now what are you going to do with this dirty egg?)

“Khaungi, zahir hai. Tum khao ge?” (Obviously, I would eat it. Do you want to have a bite?)

My brother hates eggs, and we all know this fact. His response was as expected:

“Main kyun khaunga? Aap hi khayen yeh ganda anda.” (Why would I? You can have this dirty egg yourself.)

Later on, I washed the egg with tap water and peeled it. After all, how could I throw away something edible? Inside, it was cold, and the yolk had turned slightly dark — similar to what happens when you keep a boiled egg out for an entire day and it becomes hard. I cut the egg in half, giving one half to my mom and keeping the other half for myself.

That night, I found myself thinking about that child, and a deep sadness enveloped me. I felt sorrow over the cruelty of poverty and the lengths to which poor people must go to survive. It deeply troubled me to think about how poor their quality of life is.

I felt sadness for the lost childhood he experienced. At his age, children are usually focused on studying, playing, and enjoying the love and protection of their families in the comfort of their homes. He lacked access to the luxuries that other children his age enjoyed. He was no longer a child; he had to take on the responsibilities of an adult, working hard and worrying about making ends meet.

“Childhood, after all, is the first precious coin that poverty steals from a child.”
― Anthony Horowitz, The House of Silk

On the other hand, I feel a deep respect for him in my heart. I admire him for earning his livelihood honestly. He was not a beggar. In my eyes, he was an honest and responsible citizen who worked hard without stealing or asking favors from the wealthy.

I feel both hatred and pity for those who demean young children, laborers, or house helpers. Even if these individuals make mistakes sometimes, they still deserve respect and dignity. We are not superior to them in any way and have no right to mock or ridicule them simply because we have money. I believe that their courage to leave their homes every day with the intention of earning an honest livelihood, and their determination not to give up or ask for help, is truly remarkable.

“Every life deserves a certain amount of dignity, no matter how poor or damaged the shell that carries it.”
― Rick Bragg, All Over But the Shoutin’

Every Pakistani currency note carries an important message printed on the backside: “Hasool e rizq e Halal ibadat hai” (To earn an honest livelihood is equivalent to worship).

It doesn’t matter whether someone is earning millions or just a few pennies; if they are doing so through hard work and honesty, it is indeed an act of worship.

This realization made me reflect on how ungrateful we often are. We have a roof over our heads, warm clothing, access to a variety of foods every day, a clean and hygienic environment, and, above all, jobs that pay us enough to avoid the humiliation of asking for help from others. Meeting that child made me truly grateful for all that I have.

It is essential to recognize the significant issues of cruelty, pride, and injustice in our society. The gap between the poor and the rich continues to widen; the poor are becoming poorer every day, while the rich are becoming richer. It is disheartening to think that, inside the same mall, people are purchasing Charles & Keith bags while outside, little children are selling eggs in the cold. We often fail to understand that poverty can only be alleviated if the wealthy acknowledge their responsibility to share a portion of their wealth with those who are less privileged.

“When someone steals another’s clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”
― Basil the Great

Poverty destroys thousands of dreams every day. It involves more than just a lack of money; it includes the emotional experiences that come with it. Poverty fosters feelings of insecurity, anxiety, unworthiness, and anger. It can erode your courage and make you lose sight of your dreams. It strips away your sense of power and control.

In today’s world, your identity is largely tied to your financial status. Without money, who are you really?

Seeing that little kid selling eggs on that cold evening reminded me of an Urdu couplet that goes:

“Wo jo ik umr thi titliyaan pakarne ki,
Meri woh umar bhi mazdooriyoun me guzri hai.”
(The age in which I was meant to catch butterflies, I had to spend even that time being a laborer.)

I hope and pray that God blesses him with provision, fulfillment, and abundance. I pray that his integrity and dignity remain intact and that he never has to ask or beg anyone for his basic needs.

May life treat him with a little more kindness.

Damane Zehra is a radiation oncology resident in Pakistan.