Essay On Pakistani Village Life

Essay On Pakistani Village Life.Pakistan is an agricultural country. Our prosperity depends upon our agricultural production. For this, the Pakistan farmer's contribution is great. Pakistan. as a matter of fact, is a land of farmers. They live in villages. About 75 per cent of our population lives in villages.

A Pakistani farmer is respected by everyone. It is he who produces grains for the rest of the country. The whole year. the Pakistani farmer is busy in tilling the fields. sowing seeds and reaping the crops. His, indeed, is a very busy life.

He gets up early in the morning. Then he takes his yoke, bulls and plough-share and goes to his fields. There he ploughs the land for hours together. Then he takes his breakfast. The breakfast is brought by the members of his family in the fields. His breakfast is very simple. It mainly consists of bread; pickle and lassi (a preparation from curd). After taking his breakfast, he again gets busy with his work.

He labours very hard. But after his hard labour he gets a very reasonable amount. He sells his production of food-grains in the market at a low and normal price. He lives a very simple life. His clothes are simple. He lives in a mud-house. His property consists of a few bulls, a plough-share and - a few acres of land. He lives from hand to mouth.

A farmer is the very soul of a nation. Our Government always tries to help the farmers. Sometimes, Govt. provides them free-interest loans, tractors and other machinery. Everybody knows the fact that it the farmer who feeds the nation. On him depends the agricultural production. They must be provided with all the latest implements of farming. Better seeds, fertilizers, manure, implements for agriculture can enable him to produce more, and grow more.

Essay On A Street Hawker

Essay On A Street Hawker.A street hawker is a common sight in our tovvns and villages. A street hawker goes from one street to another and from one Mohalla to another Mohalla for selling his articles or food-stuffs. A street hawker usually comes with a basket full of articles placed on his head. He hawks his articles. Every street hawker brings articles and eatables of different kinds. Usually in the morning. street hawkers come with vegetables and fruits in their baskets. They hawk the things and vegetables which they bring in baskets.

The people who live in villages and towns hear the calls of the street hawker earl) in the morning. He brings with him fresh fruits and vegetables. On hearing his voice, housewives flock around him. They take from him the things which they need. Street hawkers have . to face sometime very odd customers who go on arguing
about the prices of various commodities. Sometimes he has to bow t6 the customers by reducing his rates.
Then there are other street hawkers who come on bicycles loaded with clothes, utensils and other articles of daily need and consumption.


All these are, no doubt, tough jobs. He has to labour a lot in order to earn his living. His profits are very small. He is generally a poor man. His clothes are also dirty. But with this small income he makes his both ends meet. The way he lifts the heavy load on his head or carries it on a bicycle is really a difficult job.
Some of the street hawkers carry on their heads very cheap things. By selling their complete stock they just earn a rupee or so. This shows the poor condition of these street hawkers.

If a hawker is a little innocent he is teased by the street urchins. These clever urchins sometimes steal away his petty articles and things while the poor fellow has to bear the loss. On the whole, a street hawker's condition is pitiable . because he wanders from morning till evening from place to place in order to earn his daily living. In Pakistan, the hawkers are innumerable. because, by investing less amount of money they start this business.

And Pakistan is a country inhabited by poor people. But there is no harm in earning Ono's living with hard labour. Every individual should earn his own living instead of becoming a burden upon others; It is dignity of labour which we all should respect.

Essay On My Future Dreams Plans

Essay On My Future Dreams Plans.Dreams are the by-products of our sub-conscious state of mind. Dreams are of many kinds. But the dream which I had last Sunday was the most interesting dream of mine. In dream, I was transported into a fairy land where beautiful belles were dancing and singing.I dreamt that I had gone to Paris. There I went into a night club. I saw many exciting scenes there - Twist, Ballroom and Shake were going on. As I was watching the spectacle of dance and drama, a beautiful girl gazed upon me.

I was attracted by her rosy cheeks and alluring eyes and smiles on her face. I at once recollected the famous poem of Keats known as "La Belle Dame Sans Merci". Her silent expression of love enthralled me. I was really captivated by her charms and sweetness. She was really making her silent expressions of love to me. I thought of responding to her love.

I talked to her and she passed very lovely and witty remarks upon me. Then both of us took a cup of coffee. We talked to our hearts, content. At the same time. I was recollecting the eternal lines of Shakespeare.

Love is not love that alters

When it finds alterations.

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Now I was thinking, whether her love was true or false. But I tried to he true to her. I sincerely expressed my love to her in the most unambiguous terms. We ultimately promised to marry and live as companions.
Soon the dance, drama and music programme came to an end. With this she also went somewhere, saying that she will be coming soon.

I kept waiting for her. But she did not turn up. I was repenting over my love. I was thinking that I had been be tread in love. As I was pondering over this heart-stricken subject. my eyes opened. I realised that I was enjoying the night life of Paris in dream.

In the dream. I really came across a woman who has been described by John Keats in his profound poem "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" i.e. The Beautiful Woman without Mercy-. The dream was interesting, exciting and intoxicating.

Essay When I Was A Small Child

Essay When I Was A Small Child.I am the eldest child in my family and was born after seven years of my parents marriage. You can very well imagine what a rare gem I am for them. I was fondled lavishly and a single tear from my eye would bring ten from my mother's eye. When I started walking with the help of baby-walker, my parents held a grand feast. Noises of every type fascinated me. When the Balloon seller passed our lane. I used to run after him. My mother would buy the balloon filled with grains.

It made sweet noise when it was jerked about. She also bought beautiful toys which had a whistle fitted underneath. When I pressed the doll, she, would squeak. When I was three years old, my birthday was celebrated with great pomp and show. My parents might have celebrated my first and second birthdays as well, but they have not left any trace in my memory. My relatives had brought beautiful toys which had to be wound up.

When the toy car was left on the floor, it would run for some distance. When the joker was wound up, it would blow a trumpet. It was a strange world when my parents were ready' to bring moon from the sky.
Once a juggler with two monkey's came to our street. He showed monkey tricks which engaged my attention. The he-monkey fell in love with she-monkey. She refused to marry the male monkey. He-monkey went to his father-in-law's house wearing a colourful dress.

I cannot forget the scene at his in-law's house. I also liked the tricks shown by the juggler. I was taken to the school when I was five years old. My parents had carried sweets to be distributed among the students. I was wearing a new dress and my mother had groomed me with great care. Both my parents left me there and walked back home. I shouted and cried but there was no help. My tears could not bring them back. The teacher talked gently and asked other students to make friends with me.

I grew up very fast. My friends grew in number and we started playing pranks with our neighbours. We used to enter any house and press the button of the call-bell. When the owner came out, we used to run away as fast as our legs could carry us. These memories are things of the past and a huge bag of books and heavy home-work is left-behind.

Essay In My Childhood Days

Essay In My Childhood Days.I am the eldest child in my family and was born after seven years of my parents marriage. You can very well imagine what a rare gem I am for them. I was fondled lavishly and a single tear from my eye would bring ten from my mother's eye. When I started walking with the help of baby-walker, my parents held a grand feast. Noises of every type fascinated me. When the Balloon seller passed our lane. I used to run after him. My mother would buy the balloon filled with grains.

It made sweet noise when it was jerked about. She also bought beautiful toys which had a whistle fitted underneath. When I pressed the doll, she, would squeak. When I was three years old, my birthday was celebrated with great pomp and show. My parents might have celebrated my first and second birthdays as well, but they have not left any trace in my memory. My relatives had brought beautiful toys which had to be wound up.

When the toy car was left on the floor, it would run for some distance. When the joker was wound up, it would blow a trumpet. It was a strange world when my parents were ready' to bring moon from the sky.
Once a juggler with two monkey's came to our street. He showed monkey tricks which engaged my attention. The he-monkey fell in love with she-monkey. She refused to marry the male monkey. He-monkey went to his father-in-law's house wearing a colourful dress.

I cannot forget the scene at his in-law's house. I also liked the tricks shown by the juggler. I was taken to the school when I was five years old. My parents had carried sweets to be distributed among the students. I was wearing a new dress and my mother had groomed me with great care. Both my parents left me there and walked back home. I shouted and cried but there was no help. My tears could not bring them back. The teacher talked gently and asked other students to make friends with me.

I grew up very fast. My friends grew in number and we started playing pranks with our neighbours. We used to enter any house and press the button of the call-bell. When the owner came out, we used to run away as fast as our legs could carry us. These memories are things of the past and a huge bag of books and heavy home-work is left-behind.

Essay On The Funniest Incident In My Life

Essay On The Funniest Incident In My Life.One Sunday morning, I received an invitation from a friend of mine, Mr. Sohail. I had come back from U.K to my native place. So, he invited me to lunch. I got up early in the morning and started getting ready. My sister gave me a cup of tea early in the morning. Then I took my bath and got ready. My sister then again asked me to take some snacks and tea but I refused to take it as I was more interested in reaching my friend's house. She insisted upon me to take a heavy breakfast but I ignored her request.

I went out of my house and stood at the bus-stop. I boarded the bus. Meanwhile the conductor came and asked me to buy the ticket. I asked him to give me a ticket for Model town. The conductor frowned upon me saying. "It is going in the reverse direction, you get down at the next stop and catch another bus". I was baffled for some time. Then I alighted from the bus and again waited for the bus going to the Model town.
I got the bus and reached 20, Model town. But surprisingly when I reached his house.

I found the door locked. I was puzzled and thought whether I had come to the right place. But a little later, as I was gazing and pondering, a neighbour of my friend came and asked me. For what are you standing here? Do you want to meet some one?" I replied. "Yes. I want to see Mr. Sohail here". He immediately replied, -But he has living changed his house last Wednesday and has gone to Samanabad." I got his address from his neighbour.

Frustrated. I came back to the bus stop: I was feeling hungry. Soon it started drizzling. I was now in a fix as to what to do and what not. My confusion became all the more confounded by the torrential rains. I had refused to take morning breakfast in the hope that I would take it at my friend's house. At this stage my anger was mounting. I was cursing myself as well as my fate. But soon the anger got the better of myself. I made up my mind to meet Sohail.

I made my journey to Samanabad and reached his home rang the door bell. Kamal, a tiny tot ( Sohail's youngest brother) came out and greeted me with a "Hello, uncle." The moment I entered the drawing room. I saw the parents of Sohail sitting on the sofa. They offered me a seat and sat quite modestly. As I was about to talk about invitation extended to me by Sohail, Dolly (Sohail's sister) came with tea. She was looking like a pretty and vivacious damsel.

Now the elderly mother of Sohail began to talk very politely. "Look son, the invitation to tea was a joke, as you know today is First April -- Fool's Day. But you are fortunate that your proposal of marriage has been accepted Iv all the members of our family" I was thrilled to hear these words coming from the august lip of Dolly's mother. My joy knew no bounds. The facial expressions of Dolly were quite attractive.

Her silent looks pleased me as she was making silent expressions of love. We had the tea to our heart's content. I rushed from their house in order to convey this happy news to my parents. This day, indeed, was the funniest and happiest day of my life.