Faris

The lump of stale, hard roti floating in the thin, watery curry caught in Faris’s throat. Incensed, he violently shoved the plate away. The metallic clang of the dish crashing to the floor echoed sharply through the small, dark room.

“Amma! I refuse to eat this garbage! Every single day... it’s the exact same rot!” Faris’s voice was laced with the venom of years of accumulated poverty.

His mother, Soha, wiped her hands on the frayed edge of her scarf and looked at her son with deep sorrow. Silent tears welled in her eyes. “Son... this is our fate. We must be grateful for whatever God provides.”

“No, Amma! We brought this fate upon ourselves!” Faris shot up, his eyes burning red with fury. “If Abba had worked hard, we would be wealthy today. But he’s too busy chasing his next fix to ever think about anything else! If you were going to subject me to this humiliation... you shouldn’t have given birth to me! This poverty will drive me insane one day—I’ll lose my mind in this house!”

Soha’s heart shattered. With trembling hands, she reached out and grabbed her son’s arm. “Son... Faris, my child... did something happen outside? Did someone say something to you?”

Faris jerked his arm away roughly. “Something? Amma, you say ‘something’ like it’s just a word, but for me, it’s a daily ritual of public humiliation! In this swamp of poverty, I’ve been reduced to nothing but a maggot!”

Slamming the door violently behind him, he stormed out into the alley.

Faris walked with rapid, furious strides, breaking free from the dark, suffocating alleys of the neighborhood. His breath was still heavy and ragged with rage. He loosened the collar of his cheap shirt and paused under the dim glow of a roadside streetlamp.

Faris was only twenty years old, an only child. The ultimate, brutal truth of his entire existence boiled down to a single word: Poverty. And he loathed it with every fiber of his being. He was desperate to escape this quicksand at any cost.

Yet, fate played a cruel game with him. He was currently studying at the most expensive college in the city. When people heard the name of his institute, they automatically assumed Faris was the son of some wealthy elite who could effortlessly shell out thousands in tuition fees. But the reality was entirely different. Faris was exceptionally brilliant. By topping the entire educational board in his matriculation exams, he had secured a prestigious scholarship—a golden ticket that forced open the gates of that elite college for a poor boy.

But that very scholarship had transformed into a living hell. While other boys arrived in luxury cars, flaunting the latest iPhones and designer clothes, Faris walked in wearing a two-year-old, slightly frayed uniform. Every single day, surrounded by the children of billionaires, he felt cursed. His mind was trapped in a perpetual loop, constantly questioning what those rich brats had that he lacked.

His mother woke up at the crack of dawn to sweep, mop, and clean other people’s houses just to keep their own stove burning. And his father? He was the neighborhood’s notorious junkie. The moment he got a break from his heroin injections and chemical powders, he would steal and sell household items just to fund his next high.

“I won’t live like this,” Faris muttered, clenching his fists tightly as he stared up into the dark sky. “I need money. A massive, endless mountain of money.”

Losing himself in his thoughts, he walked until he reached the city’s largest tech market. He stopped in front of the Mobile Repair and Photocopy shop where he worked a part-time evening shift. Inside the glass counters, expensive smartphones gleamed under the lights. Faris reached out and unlocked the shop’s metal shutter...He didn’t just want to repair these screens for a few pennies; he wanted to understand the operating systems inside them. He had been reading about how Steve Jobs redefined the world with a single smartphone vision. “I need to find that same digital leverage,” Faris muttered to himself. “I will become the wealthiest tech visionary this city has ever seen...”

“Faris, beta, you’re home? Go wash your hands and face, I’ll serve you some food.”

“No, don’t bother. I need to study.....

“Eat something, son.”

“No, Amma, I already ate out..

He retreated straight into his cramped, tiny room. Closing the door, a single, consuming thought gripped him:What exactly do these people do to get so rich, so incredibly fast? I need build the same technological leverage... I have to become rich. I will become the wealthiest tech visionary man this city has ever seen...

To be continue........ 3