The Narratives – Mohamed Miah

If I had a million pounds, I’d know exactly what to do with it—but it all depends on how that money came to me. Let’s say it was pure luck. Maybe I won the lottery, or someone left me an inheritance I wasn’t expecting. If that were the case, I couldn’t in good conscience keep it all to myself. I’d give most of it away, if not all of it.

And where would it go? The first place that comes to mind is my relatives and neighbours back in Bangladesh, the people who need it the most. It’s easy to forget how tough life can be for those without the safety nets we’re fortunate enough to have here. Orphans, too—they’re the ones who often fall through the cracks. Then I’d think about war-torn countries—places where people are just trying to survive the day. I’m not saying my million pounds would solve everything, but if it makes life a little bit easier for even a few days, that’s better than nothing. That’s real help, even if it’s temporary.

Now, let’s say that million pounds didn’t come by chance. What if it was the result of years of hard graft, sweat, and sleepless nights? Well, in that case, my first thought would be to look after my family. My mum, my wife, my children—they’re my priority, and they’ve been by my side through every up and down. I’d make sure they’re ok. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give to others, but there’s a different satisfaction when you’ve earned it. Maybe I’d treat myself to something. If I did indulge, it’d probably be something like a £5000 watch—a piece of legacy I could pass down, something with meaning.

Even then, my heart would still be drawn to charity. You see, I already do what I can for my relatives in Bangladesh. I send money every few months to help them with food and medical bills. The cost of living there is rising, and I can’t just sit here, ordering a pizza or a takeaway, knowing that my first cousins might be struggling to put staple foods on their table. I think about that every time I indulge in a little luxury. So I make sure to check in regularly, listen to any problems they might have, and send whatever I can. I’d rather give them my few extra pounds now than let it build up for some rainy day in the future. Because for them, it’s already raining, and one day, it might be my turn to need help.

This way of thinking isn’t new for me—it’s how I’ve always been. Even as a kid, I remember wishing that everything in the world only cost one penny, so everyone could have everything they needed. That idea of sharing, of making sure no one is left behind, has stuck with me ever since. I can’t help but think about the inequalities in life, the differences in what we take for granted here versus what’s a luxury for others. That’s why, no matter where the money comes from—whether it’s luck or hard work—I feel a deep responsibility to give back.

For me, it’s never just about accumulating wealth or securing my future. It’s about making sure I’ve done what I can to help those who need it, whether that’s my own family, my relatives in Bangladesh, or people halfway across the world trying to survive in conflict zones. I believe that wealth, whether it’s big or small, is a test. How we use it defines us.

So, if I had a million pounds to give away, you wouldn’t see me holding onto it too tightly. Sure, I’d make sure my family was ok, but I’d still be looking out for others. After all, we’re all connected in this world, and we never know when we’ll be the ones needing a helping hand.

At the end of the day, the real value in money is in what you do with it, not in how much you keep for yourself. Giving back isn’t just an obligation—it’s a privilege, and it’s one I’d be proud to honour.