A Question of Honor

I have a friend who is deeply fond of prize schemes. Over the years, he has won many small and large prizes through lucky draws. Because of this obsession, he carefully saves every wrapper that comes into his house—soap wrappers, tea tins, biscuit packs, and even empty cigarette packets. Collecting these has become a habit, almost an addiction.

Thanks to these wrappers, he has won a motorcycle, a washing machine, and several other prizes without spending much of his own money. Once a habit settles into a person’s nature, it is hard to get rid of it. A prize, after all, feels like a gift, and free gifts are tempting.

Scrap dealers’ yards are often piled high with junk, and among that junk lie countless valuable wrappers from well-known companies. Scrap dealers do not consider these wrappers important. One reason is that many of them are not highly educated. Another reason is that participating in prize schemes requires buying envelopes and spending time. Most importantly, scrap dealers are already financially comfortable. They deal in business worth hundreds of thousands, even millions, and are too busy counting money to worry about prize schemes.

Their worn-out clothes give the impression of poverty, which is why they often remain unnoticed by government officials, despite earning large sums. But that is the government’s concern.

One pleasant day, my friend and I were strolling casually along a road. Before reaching the main market, we passed several scrap yards. Scrap trading was in full swing. Laborers were weighing paper and metal, while scrap dealers sat on chairs, paying for goods.

At one place, I noticed a large pile of scrap. On top of it lay a brand-new empty tea tin from a famous company, looking almost unused. Its market price must have been around 190 rupees. For my friend, such a wrapper was nothing less than a blessing.

Whenever companies announce prize schemes through newspapers or television, my friend immediately fills out his name, address, ID card number, and phone number on the wrappers he has stored and sends them in. Since his entries are far more than average, he usually wins something. These free wrappers save him from buying the products, yet still bring him prizes.

Companies are aware of such tricks, but they cannot reject valid wrappers, because a wrapper does not reveal whether the product was bought or picked from trash. Just as currency is valid regardless of how it is obtained, a genuine wrapper is acceptable if it is intact.

However, many companies have now become clever. They introduce special marks, golden stars, or coupons placed inside the product, ensuring that only genuine buyers can participate. This has made life difficult for people like my friend.

Seeing the tea tin on the scrap heap, my friend’s collecting instinct kicked in. He stepped forward and picked it up. Suddenly, a scrap dealer called out loudly, “Uncle, put that tin back!”

Quick-witted as always, my friend immediately devised a solution to save his dignity. He signaled the scrap dealer to come closer. Holding the tin, he pointed at the brand name and asked, “What is written here?”

The dealer replied, “It says Supreme.”

My friend continued, “If we remove ‘Sup’, what remains?”

“Reem,” the dealer answered.

“And if we add a ‘K’ to Reem, what does it become?”

“Kareem,” said the dealer.

“Kareem and Raheem—whose names are these?” my friend asked.

The dealer replied, “Raheem was my uncle’s name, and Kareem was my father’s.”

My friend corrected him calmly, explaining that Kareem and Raheem are sacred attributes of God, and when used as human names, they are preceded by “Abdul.” The dealer agreed.

My friend concluded, “These sacred letters are lying on scrap. Disrespecting them is a sin. You should keep such words in a high, respectful place.”

The dealer, now convinced, apologized and told my friend to take the tin and place it respectfully somewhere high.

We walked away. I asked my friend what that was all about. Smiling, he replied, “If I hadn’t done that, I would’ve been humiliated. And anyway, respecting sacred words is everyone’s duty.”

I nodded, finally understanding his clever escape.