AMAR stood at the back of his dark blue Mitsubishi as it was driven, surveying the large expanse of his vegetable farm. The excessive rainfall during the May–June season had caused minimal damage because he had installed an essential drainage system—vital for preventing waterlogging and ensuring healthy crops. Amar planted a variety of vegetables that had a ready market, thus contributing, as a farmer, to the nation’s food supply.

He had come a long way—from working as a farmhand after leaving school at fifteen, to being a landowner managing his own farmlands. He was firm when it came to getting work done, but he also had a pleasant and kind personality. He paid his workers handsomely and gave generously to charitable causes.
People often asked why he was always extending such generosity, and his answer was always the same:
“I grew up as a poor boy. There was never enough food in our home, so I know how it feels to face struggles.”
He hardly knew his father, growing up with a single mother who was a cleaner at the school he attended. He had seen and felt the hardship of her struggles with three children and had vowed to himself that one day he would give her a good life.
He didn’t do well at school because she couldn’t afford all the books he needed. He wore hand-me-down clothes, and when his boots got worn, he had to stay at home until she could buy a new pair.
Those were tough days—and not wanting his younger sister and brother to suffer the same fate, he left school and began working.
One day at a time, their lives improved, and he ensured his siblings had enough educational tools to help them succeed in their studies. The bright smiles on their faces and less worry on his mother’s gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.
He later made his mother quit her cleaning job and helped her open a vegetable stall in the market. She became her own boss, earning more money for a better life for the family.
His father never came back to see them, so Amar scratched him from their lives.
“It’s just you, Mother,” he had told her one Mother’s Day. “Thank you so much for the sacrifices you’ve made for us.”
She had kissed him on the forehead, blessing him.
“You’re a good son. I’m blessed to have you.”
Four years later, just after his sister graduated from high school, a letter arrived from a lawyer’s office requesting that Amar and his mother appear. They were puzzled, unsure what it was about because they were not indebted to anyone. At the lawyer’s office, they were both stunned when the lawyer informed them that Amar’s father had willed twenty acres of land to him.
It had taken a long moment for that to register, and his mother asked quietly,
“He died?”
“Yes, four months ago.”
“Oh,” was all she could say.
That night at home, they sat as a family to discuss the inheritance and the father’s death.
“Why didn’t anyone inform us that he died?” his sister asked.
“Well, he left us and started a new life, so I guess no one cared about us,” his brother stated.
“Yeah, and that’s the surprising thing—that he willed something to me,” Amar said. “So I can work to provide for the family.”
“Maybe in his last moments, he remembered us,” their mother opined. “And this is his way of letting us know.”
“Well,” Amar sighed, “it will be interesting to see the land,” his hope rising a little at the thought of owning farmland.
But his hope sank when he saw what he had inherited. It was an undeveloped area of land covered with tall, thick grass and shrubs.
“Damn,” he exclaimed. “This is going to take a lot of work and money to develop.”
“At least it’s a good acreage of land,” his mother said encouragingly.
“Yes, it is,” Amar agreed.
Six years later, through a small bank loan and back-breaking work with a small team of labourers, he succeeded in developing the land into a productive farm. His brother, an engineer with a contracting company, regularly lent his skills. His sister, with a degree in business management, assisted in the garden and fruit orchards created through Amar’s ideas and her innovative creativity.
The garden had a unique setting, featuring vibrant tropical flora and serene spaces for relaxation, which attracted visitors from across the country. She partnered with their mother to employ their own staff to bottle a variety of pepper sauces, fruit jams, and fresh fruit drinks for sale.
“We’ve come a long way,” Amar sighed with deep satisfaction as he drove home mid-afternoon.
Home was a beautiful house overlooking the garden and fruit orchard—a place like a dream you could get lost in.
As he drove along the driveway to the house, he noticed several visitors in the garden, and one of the guys ran up and signalled him to stop. Amar knew him—the son of a large insurance company executive in the city.
“Hey man, how are you?”
“Great,” Amar answered. “Just back from the farm.”
“I’m here with some friends and they’d like to meet you.”
“Nah man,” Amar declined with a little laugh, “I’m kinda sweaty and dusty.”
“That’s okay, just say hello.”
Amar hesitated, glancing around for his sister. Not seeing her, he decided to meet the visitors briefly.
They were happy to see him and expressed their absolute pleasure.
“This place is so beautiful—it’s like a little paradise.”
“Credits to my sister,” he said with a pleasant smile.
“We didn’t get to meet her.”
From the introductions, Amar realised they were from the top echelons of society—doctors, lawyers, business executives.
The young lawyer he recognised from primary school, but he said nothing to her. He spoke with them for a while and, as he took his leave, the young woman said,
“There’s something familiar about you. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
Amar smiled and answered casually,
“Possibly.”
That night, relaxing on the veranda on the upper floor of the house overlooking the gardens, his thoughts drifted to the beautiful young lawyer.
“Never thought I’d see her again,” he said to himself with a slight smile, sipping the scotch in his hand. “It’s indeed a small world.”
The next Sunday, she visited again with three friends, having called to book one of the small benabs in the garden. It was a full day with visitors, and Amar was assisting his sister to ensure everything went smoothly when he saw her arrive. A good while later, he went to her small group to welcome them to the ‘Garden of Dreams’.
Her friends were from the United Kingdom and expressed their pleasure.
“We so love this place—it’s marvellous.”
“And I love the pure fruit drinks,” one of the women said. “It’s thirst-quenching.”
They spoke for a while as Amar answered questions about the names of some exotic flowers, plants, and fruit trees. As he was about to take his leave, the young lawyer said,
“The more I think of it, the more I feel I know you from somewhere.”
Amar smiled, not wanting to respond in front of her friends, but noticing they had stepped away to take pictures, he said quietly,
“We were in the same class in primary school.”
She looked surprised.
“The same class?”
“Yeah. I’m the poor boy you used to bully.”
“What?” she looked stunned.
To be continued…