Third-class ticket

I was wondering when I would get time to write, and I don’t know why this story suddenly came to my mind. I read it in one of my school subject books, and I thought it was really interesting to share with you, so I hope you like it.

A girl named Sara heard about her grandfather’s unhealthy condition, so she decided to travel alone from her city to another. She asked her friend to lend her a burkha (a loose outer garment traditionally worn by some women to cover their clothing and body, often including the face).

She then went to the train station. When she arrived, there was no sign of the train, so she went into a nearby waiting room. An old lady was sitting there, and next to her stood a girl around Sara’s age.

Despite the old lady being there, Sara chose to stand next to the girl. The girl looked wealthy. Her hair was left loose, and she wore a long shirt, with sunglasses resting on her head.

She must be a first-class passenger, Sara thought.

She hid her third-class ticket in her hand.

When she went outside to ask about the train, she found a boy talking to one of the staff members. The boy was wearing a suit. When he looked at Sara, he saw her expensive-looking burkha and assumed she was a first-class passenger.

He quickly hid his third-class ticket.

Meanwhile, Sara looked at his clothes and thought the same about him.

He must be a first-class passenger.

When the train finally arrived, Sara quickly headed toward the third-class carriage, worried that the boy and the girl might see her.

As she settled into her seat, she didn’t notice the boy entering the same carriage and sitting in the men’s section.

Later, Sara arrived at her grandfather’s house. After taking good care of him, she went up to the rooftop. She was simply looking around when she noticed that she could see the entire ground of the neighboring house.

The house looked old. Some clothes were hanging from a rope to dry after being washed. Nearby, an old woman was washing some dishes and glasses.

Then Sara noticed a boy lying on a sheet in the sunlight.

As the boy shifted, she recognized him.

It was the same boy she had thought was rich on the train.

Their eyes met.

Before Sara could react, her cousin called her downstairs.

Sara didn’t want to stay there, so she went down and asked her cousin about the boy.

“That’s the old woman’s son,” her cousin explained.

Sara looked at the expensive burkha hanging nearby.

Then she noticed the third-class ticket lying forgotten on the table.

The clear moral of the story was that people should not be judged by their clothes or appearance. But I found another interesting meaning in it too: how people can feel uncomfortable about their social status and sometimes lie about it because they are afraid of how others might see them.