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Story Time: Colours of humility
m was the best at art in her school. Her drawings were displayed on the classroom walls, in the assembly hall, on notice boards and even in the principal’s office. Whenever any art competition was announced, Hadiya’s name was added to the list first.
Hadiya loved the attention she was getting, but slowly, pride began to grow in her heart.
One morning, some students were practising drawing sunflowers for their upcoming art competition, whose theme was “The beauty of flowers”. Their lines were uneven and the colours were not perfectly blended. Hadiya glanced at their canvases and laughed.
“Do you call this art? My ten-year-old cousin paints better than you!” she said arrogantly.
The students felt very embarrassed. One small boy said softly, “But we are still learning.”
She replied, “Talent can never be learnt. You either have it or you do not.”
Their art teacher was standing in the corner, hearing everything, but she said nothing and only smiled gently.
A week later, the art competition, “The beauty of flowers”, was officially announced. The winner’s painting would be sent to a national contest.
“I know that since we hardly have good artists in this school, I am obviously the winner!” she said proudly to her friend.
On the competition day, Hadiya sat with a fresh white canvas and her paints. She lifted her paintbrush, but suddenly froze, as if her mind had gone blank. She tried to draw a flower, but the strokes turned messy. She rubbed it off and tried again, but this time it was even worse.
She muttered, “Come on, Hadiya, it’s a piece of cake…”
She looked around nervously and saw others painting calmly. This made her even more anxious, and she began to panic. She was not satisfied with what she drew and painted. As a result, the canvas looked more like a mess than a proper painting. For the first time, she wanted to hide her work from the rest of the participants.
The next day, the results were announced. The art teacher did not call Hadiya’s name at all. Instead, she uncovered a large board with paintings displayed on it, without any names or signatures.
“These paintings were judged without knowing who painted them,” she said.
She pointed to one painting that was very dull and added, “This one was painted by someone very talented, but blinded by pride.”
Then she pointed to the winning painting and said, “This was painted by a budding artist with great humility.”
The painting was bright, full of colours and emotions.
She turned to the students and quoted, “Talent without humility loses its shine.”
Later, she revealed the names and the dull painting belonged to Hadiya. A few students laughed softly, and Hadiya felt the very pain she had once given to others.
Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026
Magazines
Story time: An embarrassing day
The afternoon was bright, with the sun at its peak. My mother had promised to take me to the marvellous Legoland, so my hands were sweating with excitement.
I quickly got dressed in my favourite clothes and stood ready at the door before my siblings. After a while, we reached the grand park. The huge Lego buildings made me even more curious. I was amazed by the structures I had only seen on TV before. Seeing them in real life felt like a dream come true. Little did I know that something embarrassing would also make the day unforgettable.
It was our first trip to America. The feeling of being in a country where people speak English made me nervous because English is not my mother tongue. Naturally, I was not fluent in it.
Anyway, I spotted a teenage driving arena made of Lego and rushed excitedly towards it, hoping to experience the bliss of driving cars. An instructor stood at the entrance, speaking with an African accent.
I went up to him and he asked my name. I became nervous. Even though he had only asked my name, my face turned red and my mind went blank.
My mother noticed my terrified expression from a short distance and quickly came forward, answering in my place. I felt ashamed and wished I could dig a hole and hide in it. A bead of cold sweat ran down my spine, but thankfully, I convinced myself that I could still enjoy the rest of the day — or so I believed.
From then on, I decided to be extra cautious to avoid any more awkward situations. As we moved ahead, we saw a tempting stall selling cold beverages. We ran towards it and each of us got a drink. But unfortunately, my luck was not on my side, I spilled my drink on my favourite trousers, making it look as if I had peed!
My siblings laughed before anyone else did — yes, siblings can make you more embarrassed than anyone else in the world! Feeling cranky, I was torn between going home and exploring the amusing monuments made of Lego. Soon, my desire to make the most of this opportunity overpowered my embarrassment, and I walked all over the park with my wet, stained trousers.
Moving around the theme park like that made me red as a tomato and even caused a few people to laugh. I hope a day like this never happens again, though it certainly became a story I will never forget.
Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026
Magazines
Story time: Trouble in the streets of Kuala Lumpur
The man puffed on his cigarette, and as he smiled, his awful teeth became evident. The smoke curled into my nostrils and I tried ignoring it. I looked at his despicable face, my helpless body in front of him.
He inserted his hand into his pocket and immediately, I yelled, “Please don’t shoot!”
It was my last day in Kuala Lumpur. The city was a mesmerising place, filled with endless greenery all over. The locals were extremely warm and hospitable, and it wasn’t stressful at all moving around the city due to the efficient public transport network. I sat on the MRT, which is KL’s metro, and it was spotless and not congested at all. There were the double-decker buses too, which would take tourists to all the major attractions in the city, such as the Petronas, Merdeka 118, the King’s Palace, Berjaya and so on.
Once again, I found myself walking amidst the bustling Jalan Alor market right beside my hotel. It was located in the heart of KL, in its commercial district, which contained many of Malaysia’s skyscrapers and business hubs. The aromas emanating from the stalls and numerous shops in Jalan Alor wafted into my nose, prompting me to take a look.
There was a whole lot of seafood and fresh fruit on the menu. I didn’t try the famous durian; however, I did sit down to feast on a lobster, along with some soup noodles and a tropical drink.
My mouth began to water as I set my eyes on the marvellous meal in front of me. I quickly ate to my fill.
As I waited for the taxi on the roadside, my attention was directed to a man who appeared broke and helpless. My heart softened for him as I saw him lying on a bench, and it seemed he was half dead. I approached him and fumbled in my pocket for some Ringgits.
Suddenly, the man leapt from the bench, as energy surged through him in an instant, and he snatched the money and gave me a nasty blow in my abdomen. Everything began losing colour and the world quickly faded away.
A horrid stench emanated and as I struggled to open my eyes. The man grinned, his awful teeth evident. His rotten hand stretched into his pocket.
I yelled, “Please, don’t shoot!”
I tasted blood but made a run for it. A burst of gunfire erupted and without warning, my head snapped back. I fell unconscious instantly.
When my eyes opened, I saw immense beauty around me, as if I had suddenly been transported to a majestic place.
I could see the open air, the earthy smell, birds chirping and no traffic noise. I noticed some familiar faces, too.
Just then, I felt a sharp pain in my head. I slowly got up, holding my head. Someone held me from my shoulders; I turned and saw Mum.
She said, “My child, you are back in Hala, safe and sound!”
Instantly, serenity washed over me, for I was back in my birthplace.
Published in Dawn, Young World, February 21st, 2026
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