That day was very quiet. The streets were silent. The wind gently brushed the leaves of the trees. But in this stillness, something clawed at my heart – as if an invisible cry filled the air. That day, I walked the same road once more. The road that always pierced my heart. As I walked, I tried not to look toward Davron’s house. But still, at the corner, I unintentionally noticed a young man leaning against a concrete pole.His hair was disheveled, his clothes covered in dust. He seemed unaware of what was going on around him. Nothing mattered to him anymore. His eyes – his eyes were empty. Those lifeless eyes, full of despair, reminded me of an inseparable part of my childhood – my friend Davron and the memories we shared. We grew up together. Every day we went to school side by side, played football, climbed trees. We had shared the most joyful, innocent, and carefree days of our lives. He would always talk about his dreams and goals. “I will become a doctor,” he used to say. Davron dreamed of becoming a famous doctor, of healing people and discovering cures for incurable diseases. With such noble goals, he graduated school with excellent grades and was accepted into the prestigious Medical University. Everyone who knew him was overjoyed – his mother, his friends, teachers, relatives, neighbors. Davron himself was over the moon. He began his studies at the university. We didn’t see each other for quite a while. About a year passed. One day, I saw Davron at a café. I was shocked to see his condition – this wasn’t the Davron I once knew. That day, I began to notice something strange – the spark in his eyes, the hope, the curiosity for life, and the fire of big dreams seemed to be fading away. They say people change after entering university. Maybe that was happening to Davron too, I thought at first. But the changes in him were worrisome. This wasn’t just some ordinary change. Davron had become someone who spoke less, preferred to be alone. He had made new friends. When I saw those new “modern” friends of his, something inside me twisted – they were too carefree, their faces carried arrogance, and a deep, bottomless sadness. “How are you, Davron?” I asked. He just shrugged. I didn’t understand why he did that. Or maybe I didn’t want to understand – I’m not sure. But one thing was clear – he was no longer the same Davron. Even when I stood next to him, there was a vast distance between us. As if he now had his own world, and he didn’t want anyone to enter it. Later, I found out that one night those “modern friends” had introduced him to some kind of pills. At first, he resisted, but eventually gave in. Maybe they threatened him, or maybe he agreed just to find a moment of peace – only he knows. Everything started with that one small step.
That one seemingly insignificant step began the collapse of his life – like a mountain crumbling downward. He stopped attending classes, came home late, stopped answering calls, and eventually disappeared for 3-4 days at a time. Poor Halima opa – Davron’s mother – started sleeping by the door. Her eyes, red from crying, always haunted me. Years passed. I graduated from university and started working. For me, Davron had become a lost page. But the memories remained – the wonderful childhood moments we had shared. One day, as I walked down their street again, I saw that same young man – they had brought him back. He was leaning on the same concrete pole, staring at the sky. His eyes were sunken, his lips pale. Whether he was alive or not, it no longer mattered to him. There wasn’t even a hint of regret on his face for the pain he had caused his mother. His entire mind was consumed by the desire to find money and satisfy his addiction. Just then, the gate opened, and Halima opa appeared. In one glance, you could see the deep sorrow, grief, and pain in her eyes – and how much she was suffering from her son’s condition. Suddenly, her voice – “Come inside, my son” – startled me.
A moment later, I heard her son shout back: “Give me some money!” Poor mother trembled and said, “What would I do with money, my son?” But her words didn’t reach Davron. He grabbed her hand tightly, shook it, and kept yelling. “Son, my hand hurts, let me go! I don’t work anywhere, where would I get money from?” she shouted. But at that moment, Davron wasn’t hearing anything. He had turned into a wild beast. Suddenly, he pushed his mother so hard that she fell with a loud thud. Her head hit the familiar concrete pole. Davron froze like a statue. I ran to Halima opa. Blood was flowing from her head. In shock, I cried, “Halima opa, Halima opa!” But she made no sound. Soon, a crowd gathered. An older woman ran to Halima opa, held her hand, checked something, and then wailed. “We’ve lost Halima opa!” Davron, with a pale face and lifeless eyes, stood by the concrete pole, indifferent, as if nothing had happened. Neighbors took Halima opa to her final resting place. Until sunset, people kept coming and going from their home. Late that night, the neighbors returned home. Nobody could convince Davron to leave the side of the pole that day. At dawn, Ismat bobo walked toward Halima opa’s house. He noticed a dark shape by the concrete pole. He yelled, “Get up! Go away!” thinking it was a dog. But when the shape didn’t move, he cautiously approached. He froze in fear. It was Davron – eyes open, body curled up, cold and stiff. That day, those who once knew Davron buried him too. We sent him off to his final destination... As we accompanied him to his final resting place, no one cried out, "Oh my son, my father, my brother, my sibling." In the eyes of the mourners, there was neither sorrow nor grief — only a mix of pity and disdain for a son who had caused his mother’s death and who had brought no benefit to anyone during his lifetime. After the burial, the crowd slowly dispersed. Only I remained, standing silently by Davron’s grave, lost in thought. I realized the worst thing in life is when a person loses their way — when one single step into darkness can lead to a tragic end, yet they fail to understand the consequences. I thought deeply... About the heartless ones who stand behind all this, those who chase profit with no conscience, those evil people who gamble with the fate of not one, but thousands of innocent lives for money. I thought about intelligent, ambitious, hopeful, and promising young people like Davron.who fall into their trap, and about silent, suffering mothers like Halima opa who leave this world burdened by sorrow and heartbreak.Is it really worth sacrificing our future for a path that brings such destruction in the name of income? As these thoughts consumed me, I felt deep sorrow for the countless young people like Davron. The final destination of such steps is — death. Dear fellow humans, we must fight against this scourge, we must protect our future, we must save our youth from going astray, we must raise them with knowledge, wisdom, and moral strength, we must shield them from the disaster of drug addiction. This is not only our duty to the Nation, but also to our families, our friends, and the generations yet to come.
LAYLO BEKMURODVA
