The Broken Wheel and the Unbroken Spirit
Ayan clenched his fists as he stared at the broken wheel of his cart. The sun burned overhead, sweat dripped down his back, and the marketplace was still far away. He had promised his mother he would sell the fruit today, but now he was stuck. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. With a sigh, he knelt beside the cart, examining the wheel more closely. The sun beat down mercilessly, but he pushed the heat aside, focusing on the task at hand.
He looked around for help, but no one stopped. Everyone had their own burdens, their own races to run. A voice in his head whispered, “Give up. Go home. What’s the point?”
But another voice, softer yet stronger, pushed back. “Fix it. Try again.”
With trembling hands, Ayan kneeled beside the cart. He pulled at the wheel, adjusted the wooden axle, and tried to force it back into place. It slipped. He tried again. And again.
The sun dipped lower. His hands were covered in dust. And then—the wheel clicked into place.
Ayan exhaled sharply, his heart pounding. It worked. He stood, dusted himself off, and pulled the cart forward. It rolled. One step, then another, then another.
By the time he reached the market, the stalls were closing. But one shopkeeper, an old man with kind eyes, noticed his struggle. “You didn’t give up,” he said, handing Ayan a few extra coins for his fruit.
Ayan smiled, exhaustion mixing with relief. Sabr wasn’t just waiting. It was pushing forward—step by step, even when everything told you to stop.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the real test.
“Indeed, Allah is with those who are patient.”
(Surah Al-Baqarah 2:153)
Ayan didn’t know it yet, but in that moment, Allah was with him.
