Walking with weary footsteps along the pavement, she kicked a stone lying ahead, and it rolled far away. Her life was just like that stone wherever fate pushed it, it simply kept rolling onward. A single tear slipped from her eye, traced her cheeks, and, yielding to the pull of gravity, vanished into the dust. From walking continuously, her throat was now entirely dry. Feeling a scratchy irritation in her throat, she cleared it lightly, but it made no difference. She felt her condition worsening; a coughing fit was about to seize her and she coughed and coughed relentlessly. Her state was deteriorating; she had sat down on the pavement while coughing. Due to the coughing, tears were now flowing endlessly from her eyes, and her face had turned red. At that very moment, a hand from over her shoulder extended a bottle of mineral water. She snatched the bottle almost eagerly, quickly opened it, and began to drink. After drinking a little water, her breathing steadied feeling herself return to normal, she silently thanked God.
"Sister...... please give some money." She started and looked to her left—it was a thirteen-year-old boy. With messy, curly hair, a dark complexion, and wide, prominent eyes, he was staring right at her.
"What?" She didn't understand.
"Pay for the bottle you bought," he explained.
"I didn't buy this," she said, but a moment later, the realization dawned on her. A carton of mineral water was placed a short distance away, and the boy was likely selling it. Seeing her cough, the boy had spotted a customer in her, but he had only ended up incurring a loss for himself.
"I don't have any money," she said in a raspy, low voice.
"Sister...... you took a bottle from me; you have to pay for it." This time his tone was stern.
"I don't have money. Look, I don't even have a purse, and I didn't ask you for water." Saying this, she raised her hands to show him she had no purse.
"Look, sister! You can't leave here without paying me." He was threatening her now.
"I'm not going anywhere; I'm right here. I don't even have a home anymore." As she spoke, her voice grew softer, and the traces of sorrow began to reflect on her face.
"Are you a beggar?" He immediately switched from the respectful "aap" to the informal "tum." Hearing his question, something stirred inside her—was she a beggar now? Yes! She was destined to become a pauper now, after all.
"Yes......" She replied with a single word.
"What times have come if you're a beggar, then what am I?" He remarked sarcastically, perhaps taking in her clean clothes and sober appearance.
"I've only caused a loss of fifty rupees to you." he muttered, turning back, while she sank deep into her thoughts once again. The sun had now completely set, and darkness was tightening its grip on all sides. Streetlights had begun to flicker on. Vehicles rushed noisily back and forth on the road. For a short while, he stared at her sitting in her spot, then picked up his carton, walked over, and sat down near her.
"Where is your home? If you don't have the fare to get home, take it from me." She turned and looked at that innocent face. For a fraction of a second, her eyes welled up. Barely managing to compose herself, she spoke.
"There is no home left."
"Then where do you live?" he asked. For a moment, she didn't know how to answer. A lump of tears was stuck in her throat. She was always like this—crying at the slightest thing and now she was even homeless. Her heart yearned to weep out loud.
"They threw me out of the house." Tears poured like a stream from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks.
"Who?" Concern surfaced in his eyes.
"Why...... did your parents throw you out?" His eyebrows arched in astonishment.
"Did you do something shameful?" He asked in a low voice, sliding a bit closer to her. She shook her head in negation.
"I don't have parents." she said softly. He began to understand bit by bit.
"I see...... then whose place do you live at?" After a brief pause, he asked again. For a few moments, she stared at him with empty eyes, then, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat, she began to unburden her heart. At least someone was there before whom she could lighten the weight on her soul, even if he was a complete stranger. She was at the limit of her endurance. If she cried any more, perhaps the blood vessels in her brain would burst. She was at the very edge of self-control.
"My mother died in my childhood. When my father remarried, my maternal grandmother took me with her. My uncle and aunt didn't like grandmother bringing me along. They made a huge fuss, but grandmother kept me with her anyway. A week ago, grandmother..." She wiped her tears with the backs of both hands.
"Passed away—my aunt was already tolerating me under duress. She told me to pack my bedding and get out of here. But where would I go? And today, when I returned from uni, they didn't even open the door for me. I sat outside for a long time, but no one opened the door."
"Didn't your uncle either?" he asked.
"He is not at home; he comes back at eleven. And even if he were, he wouldn't have opened it. He doesn't like me because I am the daughter of that sister of his who eloped against their wishes." A wounded smile surfaced on her face.
"Grandmother used to tell me that my uncle had a rather stern nature. He kept a strict eye on my mother. He loved her, but he was a firm believer in principles and imposed those principles on her. My mother liked a fellow student at her university and wanted to marry him, but her marriage to Moeiz uncle had been arranged since childhood. Out of fear of her family, my mother eloped with my father, bringing disgrace upon the family. Later, mother tried to return, but my uncle threw her out. Uncle has never forgotten that humiliation to this day, and seeing me brings those memories rushing back. He hates me intensely. He has never spoken a word to me in his life."
"Oh..." He heaved a deep sigh.
"You could have tried, at least? Waited a little longer." he said.
"You're saying this because you don't know them. I do. The mix of grief and anger that wells up on their faces when they see me, I can feel it," she said, turning to look into his eyes. He kept watching her face in silence.
She refocused her gaze on the traffic.
"Where will I live now?" After a few moments of silence, she asked.
"I don't know...... perhaps right here."
"Right here?" He laughed.
"By morning, your corpse will be found in some garbage heap."
"You can recite a prayer for my soul." She tried to smile, but even her lips seemed dead—they both listened to the roar of the traffic.
"Get up...... come with me." He abruptly brushed off his hands and stood up.
"Where?" She looked up at him, but he gave no answer to her question.
"Hurry up—" He picked up the carton, which now only had three bottles left, hoisted it, and started walking forward without looking back.
She thought for a moment, and then, after a brief pause, got up and followed him. He was walking with brisk strides. After walking for about ten minutes, they reached a rather desolate spot. Both sides of the road were uneven terrain. There was no paved path, but just a few paces away, a mud-plastered, dilapidated hut was visible in the moonlight. A little behind them, to the right, the streetlights cast a glow. She was barely able to walk across the uneven ground. They reached near the hut. He opened the decrepit wooden door and went inside, and she gently stepped in after him. The interior was in an even more forlorn state than the outside. On one side stood a small earthen water pot, its spout broken on one side, resting atop two bricks. A couple of rope-beds stood on another side. Placing the water carton next to the earthen pot, he turned his attention toward her.
"You sleep on this charpoy," he said, gesturing toward the cot on the right.
"Will you be sleeping in this same room too?" She hesitated. He turned back and looked at her.
"You should have brought two rooms from your father's palace you could sleep in one, and I in the other." With a sarcastic remark, he walked toward his own cot. She too walked with slow steps toward the other bed. Silence blanketed the surroundings for a short while. She felt unnerved by this stillness; the sounds of insects and animals echoed from all around.
"What is your name?" She tried to break the silence.
"Ali......" He replied with a single word.
"Such a lovely name you have, who gave it to you?" She was insistent on breaking the silence.
"I don't know, mother used to call me by this name."
"What is your name?" Ali asked in return.
"Minha......" She answered.
"Minha......" Ali repeated.
"It's a really pretty name."
"Where are your parents?" Minha tried to prolong the conversation.
"I don't know about my father; my mother passed away three months ago."
"Oh......" Minha fell silent.
"You've been living alone ever since?" Minha asked.
"No...... these bugs, insects, and animals live here too. Can't you hear them?" He retorted tit-for-tat. Minha felt slightly embarrassed. Ali had understood that she was scared and wanted someone to talk to. He began telling her stories about who had turned him away, who had pushed him, who had humiliated him and listening to him, she drifted off into a peaceful valley of sleep.
……❤︎ ۞ ❤︎……
Ali had been taking Minha around with him since morning. He had suggested she look for a waitress job at a restaurant because she couldn't survive without one, and finally, she managed to secure a waitress job at a restaurant.
"I never even imagined that I would start my professional life with this kind of career." Ali was holding her hand, walking ahead of her.
"Huh?" Using English words made it hard for Ali to understand Minha, and she suddenly stopped in her tracks while walking. Ali turned and looked at her.
"Shall we eat ice cream?" She was looking at him with sparkling eyes.
"There isn't a penny in the pocket, and we're talking about eating ice cream." He muttered in a low voice, but he didn't like the idea of disappointing Minha. He thrust his hand into his pocket, and two small notes appeared in his palm.
"Forget about dinner then," he said, waving both notes in front of her.
"Forgotten." Happiness radiated from every fiber of her being. After getting the ice cream, he took her by the hand and led her onto the main road. He was acting like an elder brother with her. Minha's entire focus was on her ice cream cone; keeping her eyes fixed on it, carefree of every worry, she walked along with him as he held her hand and practically pulled her along. Just yesterday, she had felt herself at the absolute depths of humiliation, but today that place had been taken by a new spirit the spirit of freedom. She felt liberated from everything. She had freed herself from the worries of tomorrow, just as Ali had told her that morning:
"Let's just search for today's sustenance; God will provide more tomorrow." Ever since morning, he had been dragging her around like this, here and there, holding her hand; despite his young age, he seemed familiar with every nook and cranny of the city.
