IDGAH STORY IN PDF

Plot[ edit ] Idgah tells the story of a four-year-old orphan named Hamid who lives with his grandmother Amina. Hamid, the protagonist of the story, has recently lost his parents; however his grandmother tells him that his father has left to earn money, and that his mother has gone to Allah to fetch lovely gifts for him. The story begins on Eid morning, as Hamid sets out for the Eidgah with other boys from the village. Hamid is notably impoverished next to his friends, poorly dressed and famished-looking, and has only three paise as Idi for the festival.

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The need for interaction, I believe, is universal, for the more one interacts the more alive one feels, and the less one interacts the less one lives.

What a beautiful and pleasant morning! The trees are unusually green, the fields unusually lush and the sky unusually red. How sweet and how cool! The village is bustling with activity. People are getting ready to go to the Eidgah. He is running to the teli to buy oil. The oxen have to be fed and watered. It would be noon before they returned from the Eidgah. It is a distance of three kos and then they have to meet and greet hundreds of people there. It would be impossible to return before noon.

The boys are the happiest lot. Every day they chattered about Eid. Now it is here. They are in a hurry. They take out their treasures again and again from their pockets, count them with great delight and put them back. Mahmood counts. One, two He has twelve paise. They will buy countless things with their uncountable money — toys, sweets, bugles, balls, and no one knows what all. And Hamid is the happiest among them. He is four-five year old innocent-looking, lean and thin boy, whose father died of cholera last year and whose mother became progressively pale and then died one day.

No one came to know the disease she suffered from. She never told anyone anything. And even if she had, no one would have cared. She kept it hidden in her heart. And when she could stand it no longer she bade goodbye to this world.

His abbajaan has gone away to earn. He would one day return with bagfuls of money. She would return with many goodies for him. So Hamid is very happy. Hope is a great thing. And that too among children! Their imagination can transform a molehill into a mountain. Hamid has no shoes on his feet, and is wearing an old worn-out cap the ribbon around which has turned black.

Even then he is happy. Then he will see where Mahmood, Mohsin, Noorey and Sammi bring so much money from. Hapless Amina is sitting in her small room and crying. Had Abid been alive, would Eid have come and gone like this. She was sinking into this darkness and hopelessness. Why did this unlucky day come at all? Eid was unwelcome in this house. But Hamid! He was unmindful of those who were dead.

There was light inside him, and hope. All other children are going with their fathers. How can she let him to go alone? He might get lost in that crowd there. Such a small kid! How would he walk three kos? His feet would get blistered. She would carry him in her lap for short distances. But then who would cook the sawaiyan? If she had the money she could have bought all the ingredients on her way back and then cooked after returning.

Here she will take hours to collect the things. She will have to borrow them. She had tried to save that money like her honour, but yesterday the milkmaid had demanded to be paid. She has nothing for Hamid, but at least she would need two paise daily for milk for him. Now she is left with only two annas. This is all she has, and on the day of Eid! Allah alone would see her through. All would ask for sawaiyan and no one likes a small quantity.

How could she avoid them all? And, why should she? The festival comes after a year. Their fate is also linked to her own. May Khuda protect the boy! These days will also pass. The villagers moved out in a group. And Hamid was also going along with other children.

Some of them run and take lead. Why are they walking so slowly? How can he get tired! They have reached the edge of the city. The road is flanked on both sides by orchards belonging to the rich. There is a pucca wall around them.

The trees are laden with mangoes and litchis. Occasionally a boy aims a stone at the mangoes. The mali comes out cursing. The boys are at a safe distance from him and are laughing. How they fooled the mali! Big buildings come into their sight.

This is the court, this the college, and this the club-house. There must be many students studying in this college. All are not boys,O dear. Some are men, really, with big moustaches. They are so grown up and still studying! No one knows how long they will go on, and what they would do after studying so much! Here too there must be boys like them. Why not? The club-house is a place for magic shows. It is said that the skeletons walk here. Big-big shows are held here.

But no one is allowed inside. And in the evening the sahib log play here. Big-big people, moustached, bearded. And the mems also play, really! She would fall down if she tried to swing it. Your Ammi grinds maunds of wheat.

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