He passed the front door of the house and stopped behind it. He had a ten bishli [21]coin in his hand.He held it for a while close to his chest, thentossed it in the air, caught it, and put it in his pocket.
He had realised something, so he made a decision!
This was the little boy Mohammad Amin. He was seven years old, growing and developing quickly, and rapidly becoming a child full of vitality and happiness. Signs of the noble, virile man he was to become were already clearly stamped on his handsome face.
His unflinching gaze is clear and direct: it carries the history of the past, yet looks confidently towards the future.
His movements are strong and fluid like the waves of the ocean, while his features reflect the brilliance within. One might say that he appears to be clothed in purity and crowned in dignity… and among his peers he seems like a banner constantly moving and swaying.
As for his father, he was a good man, a tradesman who was known for his honesty and good manners. Due to his praiseworthy character, he had become a reputable merchant dealing in a broad range of merchandise and, indeed, he was one of the chief merchants among his peers. Additionally, God provided him with the income that furnished him and his family with a high standard of living.
With the dawn of every new day, the father used to leave a whole majeedi (equal to half a golden lira) with his wife as pocket money for his son, Mohammad Amin.
When the little boy got it, he would go out directly to see his friends who used to wait for him, and spend all his money on them. To some he gave just a few coins and for others he bought what they needed, so that all of them were treated fairly and were overwhelmed by his gifts. Indeed, he was the generous head of this group who brightened their day, and the benevolent leader who helped them.
His behaviour is an example for all to follow, otherwise one must pay attention to the wise words:
Woe betide all those who stray from the path of virtue or commit any breach of the code of ethics!
When his pure and kindly father died, and was buried, his mother missed her husband and suffered inconsolable grief, so she sat with the seven year-old boy, crying piteously and groaning in a heartbreaking way. This misfortune had shaken her greatly. She was deeply saddened at the sight of her little son as she thought that he, like her, was grieving because of the death of the head of the family. She did not realise that his heart was not saddened at his father’s death, for he was still too young to understand the magnitude of the problem. She saw, quite simply, the picture of her own grief reflected on his face as he looked at his mother in amazement.
The following morning, the little boy went to his mother and stretched his hand out towards her, as he was accustomed to do, for her to give him his daily pocket money. But his mother paid him no attention and pretended to be busy. However, he continued to stand there resolutely, waiting for her to give him the customary coin. At this point, she reached a hesitant hand into the folds of her gown, and rummaged around until she managed to bring out a ten bishli coin. She then gave it to him, but due to her anxious state she was perspiring profusely.
A questioning look passed across Amin’s sweet face as he took it. He wondered to himself:
‘Why only ten bishli? Where’s the rest? Where is the majeedi? How strange! I wonder why?’ Nonetheless, he took it and went outside. As soon as he had crossed the doorstep, he started to ponder the situation and became completely lost in thought. He said to himself, ‘The man who supported our family so generously, and who provided everything we wanted, has passed away. He worked so hard to secure a comfortable standard of living for his family. As for this poor woman, how could she earn any money? A woman isn’t allowed to leave the house except to go to the market or visit a friend. Even so, she has to be fully veiled, so how can she work?’
He looked at the coin for a few minutes, then tossed it up in the air, caught it and put it in his pocket. He bit his lip and then walked off, disappearing down the lane.
That ten bishli was the last pocket money he ever took from his mother.
On the following day, his mother said nothing about his pocket money. Some days passed and he did not once ask her to give him money, so a week later she asked him, ‘Oh my son! Don’t you want your pocket money?
‘Dear Mamma! I still haven’t spent the ten bishli you gave me last week. But when I do, I’ll ask you for what I need.’
Oh! She felt such a great sense of relief and joy when she heard his words. He had really spared her the worry of dealing with such a difficult situation.
And so that magnanimous and contented boy accepted suffering and patiently accepted the lack of pocket money. This situation was not easy for him because he had long been accustomed to spending all his money on the children of the neighbourhood!
It was so hard for him to see himself, their leader, meeting them empty-handed, seeing in their eyes the expectation of his usual donations and presents, an expectation that was sometimes also expressed in words when they would ask why he no longer gave them gifts as he used to do. One can only imagine how difficult it must have been for this kind-hearted boy to explain his situation to them.
He kept that ten bishli coin with him in his pocket until he was eighteen years old.
The next eleven years were ones of self-deprivation and abstinence, accepting his lot in life and looking ahead to God’s Satisfaction, while everybody around him was leading a life of plentiful ease and comfort.