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Saquib opened his eyes and was faced by the grim 

grey colour of his ceiling. He stayed motionless 

for a while, unwilling to get out of bed at the crack 

of dawn, when the sudden realization hit him that 

he was late for work. Jumping out of bed, he 

hastily dressed himself, and ran out of his room, 

through the front door of his house, panting all the 

way to the factory. 

Saquib’s persona and appearance to everyone else 

may seem to be perfectly ordinary for an eleven 

year old boy, but the actuality of his situation is 

that he has no mother, barely any friends, and has 

no one but an ill father waiting for him to return 

home. He’s a wretched child who’s forced to work, 

just so he can get money for his father’s medical 

treatment, no matter how low the wages he 

receives.

 “Oi, you!” the manager shouted at Saquib when he 

walked through the gate of the factory. “Why are you 

late?” Without waiting for an answer the manager 

expostulated, “I haven’t got time to listen to brats like 

you, but as compensation you’re working past your 

curfew.” Silently seething at the injustice treatment of 

the avaricious manager, but also being aware that 

speaking would guarantee losing his job, he made his 

way to his assigned work area.

For the rest of the day, he filled his mind with 

depressing thoughts about his future in life. Once the 

day was over, he, again, ran back home, served his 

father the littlest food they had at home, and ate the 

scraps that were left. “Dad,” he quietly spoke. “Hm?” 

answered his father. “I was thinking that maybe when 

you get better, could I go to school?” “I’d like for you to 

go to school, but Jack, we just couldn’t afford it,” was 

the reply. 

Keeping those heavy words in his mind at night, Saquib 

had a fitful sleep and thus woke up much more early 

than he ever had before. At least I won’t get in trouble 

this time, he gloomily thought to himself.   He slowly 

walked to the factory, consciously aware of the 

condescending gapes he was getting from a few people, 

considering the work uniform he was wearing and his 

clear age that could be told by his appearance. Once 

entering, he started to work fervently, determined to not 

get screeched at by the manager.

After a while, a few workers began to comment on the 

smell of the place. “It smells like something’s 

burning,” was the panicky remark made by someone, 

which was the pronouncement that started the 

widespread hysteria of a fire. “Alright! All of you 

calmly walk out through the gates,” yelled an 

authoritative of the factory. “There aren’t even fire 

exits!” someone screeched. Saquib’s heart was in his 

mouth, and he was just about ready to burst into tears. 

His blood seemed to have gone cold. Finally, after a 

few minutes, just about everyone evacuated. They 

watched the factory burn down. In a daze, Jack walked 

back home. 

“There was a fire and they didn't even have fire exits?” 

said his father for the millionth time in disbelief as 

Saquib returned home and relayed what had happened 

to him. “I told you already, Dad,” he replied patiently. 

After a few moments of silence, his father spoke up, 

“Tomorrow, they’re probably going to protest at the 

factory about what happened. I’ll also being going, and 

you can’t argue on this one with me. You could’ve 

died.” Though Saquib tried to persuade his father not 

to go in his weak condition, he insisted and won over 

Saquib about it.

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