Who Are You Following?

In the dusty, bustling streets of Lahore, there lived a man named Shafiq, a man whose life could best be described as “broke as hell.” Shafiq’s days were spent scavenging plastic bottles from the stinking, sludge filled banks of the Ganges, and his earnings could barely buy him a dry, sad chapatti. He dreamt of one day affording chicken to go with it, but for now, even that seemed as distant as the moon.

But Shafiq had a plan. A wild, ambitious plan that involved none of the back-breaking work he hated so much. You see, Shafiq had discovered crypto. Not because he had any real understanding of it – he didn’t even own a smartphone until he found one in a pile of trash……but because he’d seen people on Twitter living lavish lives, talking about something called “Lambo” and how it was all thanks to cryptocurrencies.

So, Shafiq decided he would become a crypto guru. Sure, he had no idea how blockchain worked, what HODL meant, or why everyone was shouting “Wen Lambo?!” but he knew one thing…..

 

People were making money, and he wanted in.

With the stolen Wi-Fi from his neighbor’s house and an ancient Windows XP laptop with a busted screen, Shafiq set up his Twitter account: @CryptoKingShafiq. His bio proudly read:

“Lambo owner, millionaire, crypto genius—DM for hot tips!“

The truth? He was so broke he couldn’t even muster up the cash for a single PEPE coin. LUNC was just a dream.

But none of that mattered online.

He’d post motivational nonsense like, “Don’t sell on a dip, HODL till you RICH!” and “Lambo is in the garage, fam. Believe!” He even Googled a few pictures of Lamborghinis and started posting them, pretending they were his. His favorite phrase quickly became, “Wen Lambo??” though deep down, he knew his Lambo dream was more like “Wen Chapatti with Chicken??“

To his surprise, people started following him. His follower count grew – 100, 500, then 1,000. The numbers didn’t stop. Apparently, the world was full of people even more clueless than him, ready to believe in any half baked nonsense that promised them riches.

People started tagging him in posts, asking for advice on what coins to buy, and they treated his generic, cut and paste responses like gospel. He felt powerful, even as he scrounged for scraps and slept in the same clothes for days. Every time his followers asked, “Wen Lambo?” Shafiq would confidently say, “Soon, brother. Hold tight.“

Soon, the money started rolling in – not from crypto, but from gullible followers sending him tips for “premium advice.” Shafiq used these tips to buy slightly better chapattis and dreamed of one day upgrading to biryani with actual meat in it. Life was looking up. Or so he thought.

Then the crash came.

One day, Shafiq made the mistake of recommending an obscure crypto called “BiryaniCoin.” The coin tanked – spectacularly. His followers who had invested their savings, were furious. They asked for refunds. His DM box was filled with angry messages: “You promised a Lambo! I can’t even afford a bicycle now!” Another wrote, “You said ‘Hold tight’ – now I’m holding a bag of nothing!“

As the pressure mounted, people started digging into Shafiq’s past. One savvy follower reverse searched the images of the Lamborghinis he had posted and found out they were stock photos. Others discovered his real life, photos of him knee deep in garbage, pulling out plastic bottles with a grimy shirt that hadn’t seen soap in months.

The crypto guru illusion shattered overnight. His followers turned on him like rabid dogs. Memes of him as “the trash guru” spread like wildfire, and soon enough, he was arrested for fraud after a few followers reported him to the authorities. Shafiq found himself in a dingy prison, where his fellow inmates took turns introducing him to his new reality. His rear end would never be the same.

Disowned by his family and publicly humiliated, Shafiq returned to his village after serving his time. People pointed and laughed. Children threw rocks at him, and even his loyal dog, Raja, took one look at him, squatted, and promptly shat on his foot.

Shafiq had nothing left. No Lambos, no followers, and certainly no chicken. All that remained was shame and the faint smell of garbage that clung to him like his past.