Noor Rehman stood at the beginning of his Class 3 classroom, clutching his academic report with shaking hands. Number one. Another time. His teacher grinned with pride. His peers cheered. For a momentary, wonderful moment, the 9-year-old boy thought his hopes of being a soldier—of serving his nation, of making his parents satisfied—were possible.
That was several months back.
Currently, Noor is not at school. He works with his father in the woodworking shop, learning to polish furniture rather than studying mathematics. His school attire sits in the closet, pristine but idle. His books sit placed in the corner, their leaves no longer flipping.
Noor passed everything. His parents did all they could. And nevertheless, it proved insufficient.
This is the tale of how being Pakistan poor doesn't just limit opportunity—it erases it entirely, even for the smartest children who do what's expected and more.
Even when Excellence Proves Enough
Noor Rehman's dad works as a carpenter in Laliyani village, a small settlement in Kasur, Punjab, Pakistan. He is experienced. He's dedicated. He departs home prior to sunrise and arrives home after dark, his hands worn from decades of shaping wood into furniture, door frames, and decorations.
On good months, he brings in around 20,000 rupees—around $70 USD. On lean months, even less.
From that salary, his family of six people must cover:
- Accommodation for their little home
- Provisions for 4
- Bills (power, water, fuel)
- Medicine when children get sick
- Travel
- Apparel
- Other necessities
The mathematics of being poor are straightforward and brutal. There's never enough. Every coin is allocated ahead of earning it. Every decision is a choice between essentials, not once between essential items and convenience.
When Noor's educational costs were required—along with charges for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father confronted an unworkable equation. The calculations wouldn't work. They not ever do.
Some expense had to give. Some family member had to sacrifice.
Noor, as the eldest, realized first. He's conscientious. He remains wise beyond his years. He understood what his parents could not say openly: his education was the cost they could not any longer afford.
He did not cry. He did not complain. He only arranged his uniform, organized his books, and asked his father to instruct him woodworking.
Because that's what children in poor circumstances learn initially—how to give up their ambitions without complaint, without troubling parents who are presently carrying greater weight than they can manage.