Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Don't Count Your Chickens Before They're Hatched


Far away somewhere in South East Asia lived a small family on an isolated island.  The family consisted of a young boy named Ahmad, and his aging mother who already could not move much due to old age.
   Every day it was Ahmad's duty to go out to sea to catch some fish for the nourishment.  Their life depended on seafood and wild fern for their nourishment.  Finding the right fern was his mother's duty because there was only a particular kind that could be consumed.
   At the break of dawn, after the sound of the rooster, Ahmad set out to do his daily duty.  While paddling out to sea, Ahmad's mind went back to the day before, to his first experience of the big city.  He was overwhelmed by the size of the tall buildings, the crowd, how people dressed themselves so colorfully and up--to-date.  Most of all, he was overwhelmed by the large number of cars, and became attracted to a particular black sports car.  The black car kept reflecting in his mind over and over again.
   Ahmad planned to have that car one day; he had it all figured out in his mind.  First he planned to get lots of fish, which he would invest in poultry trading.  These chickens would provide both meats and eggs.  Some of these eggs would be kept to hatch into some more chickens, while others would be sold in the market.  These chickens would continue to multiply and multiply into large numbers.  He would save all the money until he could afford to buy the car when he turned into a young man.
   Therefore, taht day Ahmad went too far out to the sea, where he himself had not explored, hoping to catch a larger amount of fish.
   As he paddled further and further out to the sea, the waves became rougher.  The clouds started to turn darker every minute.  He was so overwhelmed with his catch, that he did not realize that it started to rain until it was pouring heavily.
   The sea was too rough for the small boat, and it overturned, throwing Ahmad into the deep ocean.  The waves were too rough, pushing Ahmad even further from the overturned boat.
   Back home, Ahmad's mother had long ago returned from the search for wild fern.  She had been waiting impatiently for her only son to return hours past his usual time, for he had never returned so late.
   Late that night, a very weak knock was heard from the wooden hut.  The knock was so weak that one could barely hear it.  Finally, the old woman between tears opened the door.  Upon seeing that her son was actually lying at the door, she hugged her son with happy tears dripping from her eyes.
   Ahmad learned his lesson, "never count your chickens before they're hatched."