‘Little misdeeds and smart dishonesty are tools of any successful business if you want to achieve extra,’ it is what Nawaz kept on telling his sons off and on while selling gol guppas at a main market while pouring leftover food back to jars. Despite a lot of hard work, he could add two more stalls at market but still his dream of having his gol guppa making factory not seemed to come true.
It was his lucky day when 5-6 luxury vehicles circled his stall and weighty gentlemen approached him. They had files, mobiles and different gadgets with them.
‘Are you Nawaz Sharif?
’Yes, sir, how many plates sir? I’m very poor sir and hardly making my income. I’m paying Rs 2000 to the administration for this footpath, sir. You can eat free sir,’ Nawaz chattered in a single breath, thinking them from the administration to roll over his illegal stall and land grabbing around.
‘Do you have any account at the main bank?’ one man asked frowned.
‘Account…no sir...I hardly make my day and accounts are for those who are blessed with extra…once I had…,’
‘You’ll have to come with us for some investigation. There is a fake account with your name, having 2 billion (200 crores).’
‘What…how…you must be mistaken…yes once I had…,’ Nawaz felt his heart at the throat.
‘Sir, grant me a minute! My friend Isaaq is Matric pass and he is peon at a renowned lawyer’s office. Let me call him.’
The men gazed at him who was now scrolling on mobile nervous.
‘Hurry up, rest of calls at investigation office,’ one of the men came forward and grabbed his mobile.
‘What happened, brother? Who are these people?’ just in time his younger brother Shahbaaz left his workshop and reached there.
‘Carry him too,’ an officer ordered.
‘Sign this document that you don’t own this money. Someone else has used your ID card to manage and fill this fake account.’ A man in three-piece suit commanded him harshly. Nawaz gaped at a pile of papers, a pen in front and observed around. A creepy dark room and daunting faces were waiting for his positive movement and then to throw him out instantly.
Nawaz could not read much but anyone can count the number of zeros. He thought for a while and held the pen… and put that at a side after while.
‘This is my money. I earned it and I own it,’
‘Are you mad, you creepy gol guppa waley? Have you ever seen Rs 20,000 all at one go? Don’t act foolish! You’ll have to prove the means of your earning and if you fail…and of course you’ll… then prison will be your destiny,’
‘This is my money and I’ll prove this,’ Nawaz Sharif stood up. The officer pushed the bell and a guard appeared at door instant.
‘You can’t force me to sign any document. The media is outside for any offended act with me.’ A big amount in his name pulled a lot of poise in him.
‘Let him go. We’ll see him afterward,’
‘Very nice brother but don’t forget my share,’ Shahbaaz was waiting outside for his brother with media.
They both reached straight to their friend Isaaq.
‘If you prove the resources behind this income than I’ll owe you 1 crore,’
‘2.5 crores before and 2.5 crores after work,’ Isaaq’s lawyer gazed at them.
‘It’s too much!’
‘Okay, try anyone else. This is impossible to prove a source of such big amount at the account of a street vendor but I can try if…,’ lawyer moved back to his punctured motorcycle.
‘Okay, deal,’
‘First, open a new account and transfer all amount there,’ lawyer said thoughtfully.
‘Your grandfather left 5 factories, 5 houses, and agricultural land for his family at death and by consistent hard work you doubled the effort,’ Isaaq’s lawyer proved to be over smart and he was there just in three days.
‘Ah,…it was a dream of my father to have his gol guppa factory. It squeezes out profit margin at buying readymade gol guppas from the market when rest ingredient, we prepare at own,’ Nawaz reminded of his childhood at a stall with his father.
‘Now please forget gol guppas. You’re billionaire son of millionaire father. Just remember this. These two are your factories and these two are at Shahbaaz name. Now you’ve to pay five billion for these and Rs 2 billion for your new houses,’ lawyer told them the papers.
‘It looks that my all money is going to evaporate in months,’ Nawaz hesitated in signing big cheques.
‘Your money…jokes of the century…now, this last one…I’ve also bought a house,’ Isaaq cackled and gave him a pen.
‘FIA called Nawaz again for investigation but this time Nawaz went in his new Prado and same three-piece attire. The tone of the officer was not harsh this time and he also offered him help at nominal charges of Rs 25 crore which he accepted.
‘This money belongs to the poor people of Pakistan. You should give it back.’I Imran was a social worker and a daring trade union leader at the market who cut his way when he was visiting the market.
‘If only poor owe this money then it’s at right place,’ Nawaz Sharif didn’t like Imran’s off and on lecture.
Nawaz was busy working at his new factory when his youngest son demanded him money.
‘Concentrate on your studies rather than to waste my earned money at parties.
Learn from your elder brother Hassan,’
‘Earned money…I’m better than Hassan. Don’t steal your money but demand…secondly, I don’t have any interest in studies. I want to fly and reside in Europe,’ Hussain presented his wishlist.
Nawaz’s youngest daughter was a real pain in his neck by wasting his money on hanging out with friends, makeup deals, Botox surgeries and above all after her love marriage with middle-class guy, Nawaz had to bear her family expenses too.
Life became a chapter of any fairy tale for him. Nawaz bought a new plaza in the market where once he sold gol guppas and was busy renovating him when few gunned men approached him to put a damper on his pleasure. The secret revealed now. it was time to meet his real benefactor.
Asif was the corrupt politician who hid all money at Nawaz account by using his ID card and he was waiting for the right time to come in action. After all, it was his “earned money” which he has to save for his lovely brood.
Asif was waiting for his guilty there when his men threw Nawaz at his feet.
‘No..no..no…people called me…friend of friends…this man has protected my money for years…he’ll have his share,’ Asif offered him a chair.
‘Hey, you’ve to go through enough pleasure. Now it’s time to wake up. Sign all these papers and leave with your share,’ Asif’s tone went insensitive.
‘But…,’
‘Sign it,’ a man set his trigger.
Nawaz found no way to save his life except sign it. Asif’s men pushed him out of the gate at a barren road. Nawaz swabbed his expensive three-piece attire and looked for any lift around. He was not barehanded even after signing the documents as much of his assets were his son’s name but one thing he learned was that “riches need supremacy to guard it”.
Nawaz not only had to take back all “his money” but had to multiply it. His next destination was an election commission office at Islamabad. He registered a political party in his name. Nawaz was lucky to have his brother Shabaaz and his friend Isaaq as his loyal partners at every place. Nawaz had a genius mind that he climbed the success stairs in years and became a renowned name at the political scenario of Pakistan. People thought him as a savior of their troubles when he talked so much related to their lives. The past has left far behind but Nawaz always remained scared of coming back the days of poverty.
Now it was time to meet his dreams. He looted the government funds from both hands and transferred to foreign countries at his son’s names. No one was there to halt his grey ambitions. He became the godfather of white- collar crimes. His sons were cherishing their lives at clubs and daughters were feasting at his black money at international beauty parlors by removing their frown face lines and to revolve it back to baby face looks at their mid 50’s when Imran again came in his way.
He didn’t take Imran serious at the start as he knew that anyone can be bought with money. Kamran proved to be a real challenge for him that he pulled the king from his cards’ building. Now Nawaz was in jail for money laundering case and the court has charged him a huge amount to give back to the government. The kind person Asif who was responsible for his prosperous life was also breathing at his jail. Nawaz’s sons denied landing any money for the release of their father. Nawaz still is a man with strong nerves. He preferred to play again rather than to “donate” his “earned money”.
People still have sympathy for him that his sons are selfish but innocent folks of Pakistan don’t have an idea that how much money he has hidden at fake accounts of Falooday wala…papar wala…etc and he’s just waiting for right time.
DISCLAIMER: all names and characters in the story are fictitious. any resemblance to anyone living or dead will be coincidence.
For more stories like us at
It was his lucky day when 5-6 luxury vehicles circled his stall and weighty gentlemen approached him. They had files, mobiles and different gadgets with them.
‘Are you Nawaz Sharif?
’Yes, sir, how many plates sir? I’m very poor sir and hardly making my income. I’m paying Rs 2000 to the administration for this footpath, sir. You can eat free sir,’ Nawaz chattered in a single breath, thinking them from the administration to roll over his illegal stall and land grabbing around.
‘Do you have any account at the main bank?’ one man asked frowned.
‘Account…no sir...I hardly make my day and accounts are for those who are blessed with extra…once I had…,’
‘You’ll have to come with us for some investigation. There is a fake account with your name, having 2 billion (200 crores).’
‘What…how…you must be mistaken…yes once I had…,’ Nawaz felt his heart at the throat.
‘Sir, grant me a minute! My friend Isaaq is Matric pass and he is peon at a renowned lawyer’s office. Let me call him.’
The men gazed at him who was now scrolling on mobile nervous.
‘Hurry up, rest of calls at investigation office,’ one of the men came forward and grabbed his mobile.
‘What happened, brother? Who are these people?’ just in time his younger brother Shahbaaz left his workshop and reached there.
‘Carry him too,’ an officer ordered.
‘Sign this document that you don’t own this money. Someone else has used your ID card to manage and fill this fake account.’ A man in three-piece suit commanded him harshly. Nawaz gaped at a pile of papers, a pen in front and observed around. A creepy dark room and daunting faces were waiting for his positive movement and then to throw him out instantly.
Nawaz could not read much but anyone can count the number of zeros. He thought for a while and held the pen… and put that at a side after while.
‘This is my money. I earned it and I own it,’
‘Are you mad, you creepy gol guppa waley? Have you ever seen Rs 20,000 all at one go? Don’t act foolish! You’ll have to prove the means of your earning and if you fail…and of course you’ll… then prison will be your destiny,’
‘This is my money and I’ll prove this,’ Nawaz Sharif stood up. The officer pushed the bell and a guard appeared at door instant.
‘You can’t force me to sign any document. The media is outside for any offended act with me.’ A big amount in his name pulled a lot of poise in him.
‘Let him go. We’ll see him afterward,’
‘Very nice brother but don’t forget my share,’ Shahbaaz was waiting outside for his brother with media.
They both reached straight to their friend Isaaq.
‘If you prove the resources behind this income than I’ll owe you 1 crore,’
‘2.5 crores before and 2.5 crores after work,’ Isaaq’s lawyer gazed at them.
‘It’s too much!’
‘Okay, try anyone else. This is impossible to prove a source of such big amount at the account of a street vendor but I can try if…,’ lawyer moved back to his punctured motorcycle.
‘Okay, deal,’
‘First, open a new account and transfer all amount there,’ lawyer said thoughtfully.
‘Your grandfather left 5 factories, 5 houses, and agricultural land for his family at death and by consistent hard work you doubled the effort,’ Isaaq’s lawyer proved to be over smart and he was there just in three days.
‘Ah,…it was a dream of my father to have his gol guppa factory. It squeezes out profit margin at buying readymade gol guppas from the market when rest ingredient, we prepare at own,’ Nawaz reminded of his childhood at a stall with his father.
‘Now please forget gol guppas. You’re billionaire son of millionaire father. Just remember this. These two are your factories and these two are at Shahbaaz name. Now you’ve to pay five billion for these and Rs 2 billion for your new houses,’ lawyer told them the papers.
‘It looks that my all money is going to evaporate in months,’ Nawaz hesitated in signing big cheques.
‘Your money…jokes of the century…now, this last one…I’ve also bought a house,’ Isaaq cackled and gave him a pen.
‘FIA called Nawaz again for investigation but this time Nawaz went in his new Prado and same three-piece attire. The tone of the officer was not harsh this time and he also offered him help at nominal charges of Rs 25 crore which he accepted.
‘This money belongs to the poor people of Pakistan. You should give it back.’I Imran was a social worker and a daring trade union leader at the market who cut his way when he was visiting the market.
‘If only poor owe this money then it’s at right place,’ Nawaz Sharif didn’t like Imran’s off and on lecture.
Nawaz was busy working at his new factory when his youngest son demanded him money.
‘Concentrate on your studies rather than to waste my earned money at parties.
Learn from your elder brother Hassan,’
‘Earned money…I’m better than Hassan. Don’t steal your money but demand…secondly, I don’t have any interest in studies. I want to fly and reside in Europe,’ Hussain presented his wishlist.
Life became a chapter of any fairy tale for him. Nawaz bought a new plaza in the market where once he sold gol guppas and was busy renovating him when few gunned men approached him to put a damper on his pleasure. The secret revealed now. it was time to meet his real benefactor.
Asif was the corrupt politician who hid all money at Nawaz account by using his ID card and he was waiting for the right time to come in action. After all, it was his “earned money” which he has to save for his lovely brood.
Asif was waiting for his guilty there when his men threw Nawaz at his feet.
‘No..no..no…people called me…friend of friends…this man has protected my money for years…he’ll have his share,’ Asif offered him a chair.
‘Hey, you’ve to go through enough pleasure. Now it’s time to wake up. Sign all these papers and leave with your share,’ Asif’s tone went insensitive.
‘But…,’
‘Sign it,’ a man set his trigger.
Nawaz found no way to save his life except sign it. Asif’s men pushed him out of the gate at a barren road. Nawaz swabbed his expensive three-piece attire and looked for any lift around. He was not barehanded even after signing the documents as much of his assets were his son’s name but one thing he learned was that “riches need supremacy to guard it”.
Nawaz not only had to take back all “his money” but had to multiply it. His next destination was an election commission office at Islamabad. He registered a political party in his name. Nawaz was lucky to have his brother Shabaaz and his friend Isaaq as his loyal partners at every place. Nawaz had a genius mind that he climbed the success stairs in years and became a renowned name at the political scenario of Pakistan. People thought him as a savior of their troubles when he talked so much related to their lives. The past has left far behind but Nawaz always remained scared of coming back the days of poverty.
Now it was time to meet his dreams. He looted the government funds from both hands and transferred to foreign countries at his son’s names. No one was there to halt his grey ambitions. He became the godfather of white- collar crimes. His sons were cherishing their lives at clubs and daughters were feasting at his black money at international beauty parlors by removing their frown face lines and to revolve it back to baby face looks at their mid 50’s when Imran again came in his way.
He didn’t take Imran serious at the start as he knew that anyone can be bought with money. Kamran proved to be a real challenge for him that he pulled the king from his cards’ building. Now Nawaz was in jail for money laundering case and the court has charged him a huge amount to give back to the government. The kind person Asif who was responsible for his prosperous life was also breathing at his jail. Nawaz’s sons denied landing any money for the release of their father. Nawaz still is a man with strong nerves. He preferred to play again rather than to “donate” his “earned money”.
People still have sympathy for him that his sons are selfish but innocent folks of Pakistan don’t have an idea that how much money he has hidden at fake accounts of Falooday wala…papar wala…etc and he’s just waiting for right time.
DISCLAIMER: all names and characters in the story are fictitious. any resemblance to anyone living or dead will be coincidence.
For more stories like us at