There is no man called an Average Man


For the past many years…


perhaps since my birth, I have heard, seen and believed that few are the people who are men of wisdom, courage and the list of heroic adjectives continues…

These are some characteristics which make them ‘shine’, an ensemble of special skills which makes them unique and hence, grants them the title of a ‘Legend’. So what my mind learnt was that ‘These people are special….and I’m perhaps ordinary’.

Yesterday,  I was at a wedding, a simple, clean and Pakistanish wedding… It was plain and there was nothing extravagant to share about it. I was bored and as my gibberish thoughts jumped and swindled from one to another, but then I noticed something which soaked up my energies.

The wedding was being arranged by a few people, namely perhaps the brothers and father etc. of the bride and groom. The synchronization, arrangements from the steaming buffet tables to the roaring band display, everything was in place. While I was eating, there were a good few constantly working to make sure everything was coordinated. Dedication, coordination and leadership was exhibited by these not so special people. Let it be the old father, barely mature brother or the groom’s cousins, everyone was playing a role to make sure every guest returned home with a smile on his face. Wasn’t this coordination, dedication as zealous as the ones who earned a legendary status?

We all praise the legends of love, namely Romeo & Juliet, Heer & Ranjha etc… but is the love of my mother is not as vigorous as these icons? She held her favorite ‘sweet potatoes’ in her palms wrapped in a newspaper for two hours. This was not because she was on a diet rather she wanted to share her delight with me, who wasn’t willing to go to the market with her. Despite of my carelessness and rudeness, she carried those portions in her hands till she got back to share her happiness with me. This is just one of the many incidents of her sheer and unconditional love for me. Now once again I repeat my query…is her love inferior to those heroic couples or is love of this relationship different from that of a couple’s ?

A few days ago my gardener climbed on top of the garage door’s rim. I told him to not to stand there as it was already shaky and he could’ve fallen, but he seemed to ignore my existence. Defying the rules of gravity, he pushed the branches outside and then slanted at a 45 degree angle to cut them. After 10 minutes of persistent and nerve reckoning moments, he finally jumped off the rim. Putting your life or (perhaps with less exaggeration) your bones at stake for a job as minute as cutting a few branches, isn’t that brave?

These characteristics of bravery, leadership, zest, devotion and many more…are observable in everyone given a situation in which they decide to put their efforts.

I remember how my psychology professor once told me “There is no man called an Average Man”. I guess this is what he meant; every man/woman is special. We all have it, if given an opportunity we can use bring our dormant adjectives to life. If we decide individually to shine, there’s no stopping unless of course The Almighty puts a hold at your course.

Being special doesn’t mean you ought to be famous rather it’s the depth of your persona which shines through in each and every action of  yours..

Earning a legendary status might be an amalgamation of luck, strength, support etc., but earning a good name with your unique persona is at the discretion of your will.


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11 thoughts on “There is no man called an Average Man

  1. Beautifully explained, in fact very motivating, but what i think is society plays a role in what a person thinks of himself,and what a person thinks of himself can make him a hero or a zero.Society and sometimes our relatives don't give any heed to our positive work but just point out our negative aspects.Appreciating others good work can be a spark of motivation for them.!!

  2. The support of emotions was borrowed from the beloved relatives right at the time when required. I really touched the peak of it while reading mother’s love as it compelled me to recall one from old memories.
    Great effort to make us feel that everyone is playing a heroic role in our lives.

  3. Salam,

    Dear Friend,

    I am writing all this because I need to know that there are people who listen and understand.

    Its 3:15 A.M. now and I came home about half an hour ago. Tonight I was planning to watch a football match between Arsenal and Bayern Munich but it was about 10 PM that one of my relatives called and informed my mother that one of my cousins had just passed away. His name was Imran. He was 5 or 6 years older than me. He had a kidney problem. Both of his kidneys had failed and he was on dialysis for almost 4 or 5 years. During this period he also suffered from a disease that my people call ‘zardi’ which I think is actually Tuberculosis. Before his kidney problem he was ‘corpulent’ and had a very very poor eye sight. After his both kidneys failed he became extremely weak and during one of his dialysis when he was on his way to receive the treatment, he fell over from his stretcher and broke his upper leg. I don’t know why only innocent people suffer this much. As far as I know he never hurt anyone. He was a quiet and jovial person. Everyone is calling him a ‘jannati’. I have not prayed to God for quite sometimes now but I am praying now to God to please make him jannati.

    I hope I am not wasting your time with all this stuff and you don’t find me weird. I actually think I am very weird but maybe that is not a relevant point here.

    The point is that I actually agree with you that there is no average man or woman. For me (and I hope for you as well), my cousin Imran and every one in my cousin’s family is a hero: Imran, because he had the courage to fight till his last breath and most importantly his family – His mother\My aunt, his father, his twin brothers and his sister, because they supported him till his last moment. They are a lower middle class family, just like ours. Which means it was financially extremely difficult for them to find Imran the best possible treatment. Still they collected some money from relatives and went to Karachi for his treatment. His father and brothers were willing to donate one of their kidneys but somehow, medically, it was not possible. And they could not find any other treatment for Imran so dialysis was the only option. So they came home and Imran was on dialysis since then. It has not been easy since then. Because first of all dialysis is expensive and Imran had to do it twice a week and secondly because of security reasons. My people are called Hazaras, we are predominantly shias and we live in Quetta. Getting out of our own area is extremely dangerous. And Imran had to be taken to Civil Hospital, which is outside our own area. If you go to this hospital in these days, you would hardly see a Hazara, neither a patient nor a staff. That is because everyone is afraid they will be killed by these self-proclaimed men of God. A rickshaw driver will be extremely reluctant to give our people a ride because if he does so, the probability of his rickshaw being blown up increases many folds. It is because of this very reason my father left the country and applied for asylum in Australia so that at least my family’s future could be safe which again maybe irrelevant here. The point is that Imran’s father and his brothers took him to hospital twice every week, risking their life. Now, as you would say, are they not devoted, faithful, courageous, loving? Is their love and courage any less than legends?

    I really don’t know why I am writing all this. I really don’t. Imran’s body was the first dead body I have ever seen in reality. But I have not cried a lot since I heard about Imran’s Death. Maybe I do not have the ability to connect and empathize. And this is making me regretful. All I could do last night was to hug my aunt, her husband, and my twin cousins and tell them that I am sorry. I could not say anything else. And no matter how cold I think I am, I could still feel their pain and love for Imran. And that is when I realized that they are special, like every one of us.

    Maybe it is good that you have a blog here, so that people like me could connect and socialize in a different way. Somewhere, I hope, people would listen and understand. And maybe that is why you started this blog yourself. Sometimes you knew no one may be reading what you think, feel, observe and write but maybe that makes you whole and you hope there is someone out there who listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people even if he/she could have. Maybe I should write as well. I don’t know. It was yesterday, sometimes around noon, when I finished reading “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. In that novel, the main character, Charlie, used to write letters to an unknown person without telling that person who he was because Charlie wanted to know if there was a person who would listen and understand. I think you are maybe a girl version of Charlie or the person to whom he was writing the letters, the person who would listen and understand or maybe you are both. I don’t know. I think you have to decide it yourself.

    I should stop writing now. It is 7:40 AM. Electricity will be back at 8:00 AM. I will post this comment and take two to three hours sleep. Tomorrow, there will be Quran khwani for Imran. I would like to help Imran’s family as much as I can even though I am extremely uncomfortable around a lot of people and my support may not be enough for his family. But maybe my help and support and love might not be as average or ordinary as I think it is.

    Thank You for listening and understanding. And I hope I have not wasted your time.

  4. Hi,

    Firstly, I am extremely sorry to hear about your cousin. He was indeed a special guy who dealt with an obnoxious disease at such a young age.

    Secondly, you\’ve mentioned that you\’re cold…i believe at this point no words, no tears or no remorse can compensate for the loss of your cousin so it\’s not the expression that matters!…what matters is that you remember him in your good words, cherish your memories & pray for him. People generally do focus on physical manifestations of emotions like tears, like words…but this doesn\’t matter to your cousin anymore so shouldn\’t bother you as well! Soothing his parents shouldn\’t just be with words, rather support them just like their own son would\’ve supported them in every avenue of life.

    Thirdly, you talked about why I started this blog….I didn\’t start it for someone to understand my thoughts….So whenever you feel that there\’s nobody to listen to you, don\’t write a Letter like Charlie, rather reconnect with Allah!…what I write might be fiction or might be reality, but what matters is that I keep on writing to critique what I think is wrong, rectify and try to make a difference, so that at the end of the day I don\’t have regrets that I didn\’t work on my part!

    Lastly, my readers never waste my time. It\’s just another window to understand a different facet of human psyche and is always welcomed warmly on my blog!

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