Under the blazing sun, Hassan tills his arid field, calloused hands gripping the plow, sweat soaking his worn kurta. Dawn to dusk, he labors—planting, watering, harvesting—dreaming of his children’s laughter and full bellies. His wife mends clothes by lamplight; his eldest studies beneath stars. Though debts loom and rains falter, Hassan never falters. “For them,” he whispers, gazing at sleeping faces. His resilience is quiet, uncelebrated, yet immense—a testament to love’s endurance. At day’s end, he shares bread with grateful hands, heart full despite empty pockets. Tomorrow, he’ll rise again—for family, for hope.
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