In a dream, a helpless soul discovers the meaning of contribution and the value of life
Listen to my story. I was like a beggar—naked, helpless, and destitute—like a starving man lying at a crossroads, ignored by all. Even my own existence felt worthless and contemptible. A question kept echoing in my mind:
“What is the purpose of such a life?”
Then, a kind soul took me under his care. He clothed me in fine garments, gifted me a magnificent palace, and filled my table with delicious feasts. In this peaceful and comfortable environment, I was given just one simple task—to press a handle up and down for a few moments each day.
At first, I was overjoyed that such a small effort had granted me so much. But as the days passed, boredom crept in. It is human nature to tire of repetitive tasks. Restlessness returned, and once again, the same question echoed in my mind:
“What is the purpose of such a life?”
One night, in this state of unease, I had a strange dream.
It felt as if a grand and melodious voice was addressing me:
“You were helpless, and you were given support.
You were lost, and you were shown the way.
You were poor, and you were made wealthy.
Yet, true to your nature, you have grown weary!”
Then silence fell, and I pondered those words. After a few moments, the voice spoke again, this time as a command:
“Look and learn!”
I looked around. I saw myself pressing the handle up and down as usual, but I was not alone. Thousands—no, millions—of others were pressing their own handles. Each handle was connected to a massive pump. I saw that every press allowed a single drop of water to enter this great mechanism, and together, these drops formed a mighty river.
This river was nourishing a vast, lush valley. Its waters breathed life into thousands of flourishing gardens. Signs of vitality were visible in every corner.
I saw vibrant birds carrying water from the river to their eagerly waiting chicks, then singing joyously in gratitude. In the green meadows, strong, healthy horses grazed, later galloping freely under their riders. Bees collected nectar from radiant flowers, crafting sweet honey that touched the lips of innocent children, nourishing them with health and strength. Life was thriving everywhere. The entire valley was alive with movement and joy.
My eyes then returned to the river—the very river sustained by that colossal pump, tirelessly fueled by countless individuals contributing their tiny drops. Among those countless people, I was one.
The voice spoke again:
“If every drop has a purpose, how can human life be meaningless?”
Even in my dream, I pondered these words. At last, my heart reached a conclusion and acknowledged:
“None of this is futile or purposeless.”
Then, slowly, peaceful sleep embraced me in its kind arms.
The next morning, when I awoke, my heart was illuminated with newfound clarity. I pressed the handle with renewed passion and devotion—because now, I understood the meaning of my life.
The writer is a teacher in the J&K’s Education Department
Hilal Bukhari
bu*****************@***il.com