A Tale of Kindness and Hospitality
A short story about life and destiny
The hot summer sun was beating down upon the streets of Baghdad. Most of the denizens didn’t like to venture out during the sunny afternoons but Nadir found comfort in his fruit stall. The shade of his stall was a luxury, in the market square where so many gathered, couple that with his trusty hand fan and the afternoon was like a pleasant breeze even under the raging sun. He had been selling fruits for more than a year now and as a young man he was happy with his work, he had decided to choose an honest trade. He didn’t make a lot of money but he was definitely happy with what he earned. He picked up a handful of sour cherries and popped them into his mouth, the sweet yet sour taste felt refreshing. He then gulped some water to wash it all down. He leaned back against the wooden wall and closed his eyes. He had spent his entire life in Baghdad, it was his home and he loved the city dearly, but a part of him wanted to travel to Cairo and look at the magnificent pyramids that the travelers talked so much about with his very own eyes. As he was lost in his day dreams he heard a familiar voice call out to him “taking a nap again dear brother? What will you do if someone sneaks up on you and steals some of our pomegranates?” Nadir slowly opened his eyes and saw Mustafa smiling at him. “You are late brother, you were supposed to deliver the fruits this morning.” Nadir quipped. Mustafa had been his friend since they were but little boys, running around the streets of the city. As they grew older, they decided to start their trade together, selling what little inheritance they had. “Well, Azim wanted to raise the prices, said the harvest wasn’t too good this time around. I had to haggle with him for hours but we finally made a satisfactory settlement.” Replied Mustafa. “Ha-ha I was only jesting, a day or two’s delay doesn’t mean the end of the world. Well leave these things for now, come let us drink some tea.”
Abdul was hiding behind a crate, his eyes were locked onto his target. For many a years he had roamed the streets of Baghdad, stealing whatever he needed to survive. Born in the city of Karbala, he was only a child when his parents had passed away and he was taken in by his uncle. They had fed him and sheltered him but they didn’t do it out of love, it was their duty or so they perceived it. They were a well-respected and wealthy family and simply wanted to save face. As Abdul grew older, his family’s treatment of him grew harsher. At the tender age of ten, he ran away, hiding inside a half empty barrel where he fell asleep, when he woke up, he had been unwittingly transported from Karbala to the city of Baghdad by a merchant’s caravan. His life had changed forever. He couldn’t go back, all he had were the clothes on his back and the last bits of the Sangak bread he had brought with him from his uncle’s.
Three years had passed since that day and Abdul had learned to survive on the streets. He had always been very fleet-footed and it helped him escape his pursuers. Like many other children living on the street, Abdul had to steal from others to survive but he never stole any money or wares, only food or clothes that he needed. The sun was burning bright and Abdul was poised and focused. He slowly walked towards the fruit stall and grabbed a handful of juicy cherries. The market square wasn’t very crowded and he tried to be as subtle as possible but as luck would have it, he suddenly heard someone yell, “Nadir! This boy is stealing your fruits!” From the corner of his eyes, Abdul saw an old man rushing towards him, he darted like an arrow and looked back only once, he saw two young men exit the fruit stall and chase after him with haste. Abdul ran through the streets, jumping over crates and running through twisting alleyways, he ran until he reached the edge of the city and just as he slowed down to catch his breath, he heard someone yell, “You cannot escape from us boy, we know these streets better than anyone. We want you to give us what you stole or we will have to hand you over to the Sultan’s men.” Abdul got a little nervous, he had never been tracked this tenaciously before and all this for a handful of cherries. He took two steps back before he turned around and started running again, as he ran he could see a large house in the distance. “It is the house that my friends in the street talk about, they say that evil beings lurk inside and an old man living there practices occult rituals and dark magic.” Abdul didn’t believe the stories, he was braver than the rest. After all he was the one who left the comforts of his home behind. He ran towards the house, through its yard and hid behind a marble pillar. He closed his eyes and slumped down as he heard the two men approach.
Hassan sat alone, in the empty confines of his home. The place had been very lively in the distant past, with the cheers of his wife and daughter. He inhaled deeply from his Hookah and slowly released the smoke. So many years had passed, but his life was the same. Nobody visited him anymore, it was only him and his caretaker, Zaman. He was getting very old now, but those memories were as vivid as ever. He had been so happy with his family, he treasured them more than gold but happiness isn’t always meant to last and his happiness was no different. One winter evening, over a decade ago, Hassan had come back home from his duties at the Sultan’s Palace. He was the leader of the Sultan’s guards, a duty that he did well and was rewarded generously for, and his only complaint was that he didn’t get enough time, to spend with his wife and daughter. He walked in through the yard and entered his home. He called out to his wife “Fatima, I am back, the sultan has allowed me a week’s leave of absence.” He got no replies, he slowly walked into the bed chamber and saw his wife and daughter laying on the bed. They seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Hassan looked at them and smiled, as Zaman entered the chamber and politely greeted him, “Welcome home master.” “Why are they asleep already, Zaman? Little Salma never slept so early.” Hassan asked. “Your wife and daughter are resting, they have been pretty ill for the past few days, and even all the physicians I had called couldn’t detect what the ailment was.” Hassan grew worried, he looked at Zaman and frowned. “Why didn’t you come and fetch me?” he asked. “I told him not to bother you my love.” Fatima whispered from the bed. Her voice was soft but firm. Hassan had always been a caring husband and a good father to their Salma, she didn’t want to have him worried, when he was at the palace. Hassan slowly walked towards her and gently sat down on the bed “I have missed you both a lot.” He said as he held her hand. “We have missed you too.” Fatima said as she smiled. “Get some rest, I will see you tomorrow.” Hassan said as he slowly stood up and walked out of the chamber.
That was the last conversation they had, Fatima and Salma didn’t make it to the dawn and Hassan’s life was never the same again.
Hassan blew another stream of smoke as he heard some voices in the distance, they were coming from his yard. “Who could it be? At this time of the day.” He slowly got up from his chair and began walking towards the yard. He saw three figures, two young men holding a squirming boy, as the boy tried his best to escape their grasp, but to no avail. The boy was holding something in his hand, they seemed to be cherries. “What is going on here?” Hassan asked “I didn’t expect visitors, especially on such a sunny afternoon.” “We will be leaving soon, sir. We only came here to catch this little troublemaker and take back what he stole.” Mustafa politely said. “Oh what did this little child do to anger the two of you?” “He stole some of our fruits, fruits that we had brought to sell.” Nadir replied. “Ah all this ruckus, for just a handful of fruits, why don’t you all come inside for some rest and some supper? I will pay you for the child’s fruits, there is nothing for you to worry.” Nadir and Mustafa looked at each other, they seemed a little confused and reluctant at first but then Mustafa broke the silence, “If that is what sir desires, then we can let this slide.” He said with a smile as he let the little boy go. “What is your name boy?” Hassan asked the little boy with a smile. “It is Abdul.” The boy replied. “The food is almost ready, how about you join us for supper, Abdul?” Hassan asked. The boy was a little nervous but he nodded his head in agreement, this old man had saved him from trouble and he couldn’t bring himself to turn him down. So the four of them slowly walked inside and sat down at the dining hall. The house was a lot more beautiful than they had initially thought, it was decorated with lamps and lanterns, with walls of marble and beautiful carpets that adorned the floor. They all silently sat at the table, as a middle aged man brought in the food and served it to everyone present. “This is Zaman, the only family I have left. I couldn’t have lived this long, without his care and company.” Hassan said as he gestured towards the man, his voice had a hint of sadness but he didn’t let it show. Zaman smiled at everyone present and continued serving the food. When everything was served and ready, they all sat together to eat. The food was delicious and the beverages were refreshing, they had never had anything this delicious in all their lives. “I hope the food is to your liking, Zaman cooks as well as any of the sultan’s chefs.” “I wouldn’t doubt you for a moment, the food is the best I’ve ever had.” Mustafa said with a mouthful of delicious baklava. “So tell me your stories young lads, how you ended up here at my doorstep and a little about yourselves too.” Abdul ate in silence as Mustafa started to speak. He told them about his life, recounting tales of his childhood with Nadir with delight. Hassan’s old eyes sparkled, as he heard the stories and laughed, and even Abdul couldn’t help but smile at them from time to time. Nadir joined in too, adding details to Mustafa’s accounts of some events. They were just two poor boys with a dream, who wanted to make an honest living. They didn’t have much but they did their best with what they had. Abdul felt a little guilty for his actions at the markets, he sat in silent retrospection, at all the petty things he did. He wasn’t at fault though, it was the circumstances that made him do it. He tried to be honorable too, as honorable as a thief could be. As he was lost in his thoughts, he heard Hassan call out to him, “Come add in your tales little Abdul, we would love to hear your stories too.” He looked at them and they were all smiling at him. Even Nadir’s earlier glare was now a pleasant gaze and Mustafa simply smiled and nodded at the little boy. Abdul quickly drank a sip of water and began to tell his story, from the time he could remember to the days he spent in the streets. Everyone listened in silence with only Mustafa curiously asking for details when Abdul spoke about his adventures on the streets. The sun was starting to set, they had been sitting there for hours. Nadir and Mustafa had asked uncle Zafar to take care of the stall while they chased after Abdul. They didn’t know his story then and they really felt bad for almost hurting him for just a handful of cherries. “Come and work for us.” Nadir spoke once Abdul had finished. “We are not very rich, but we can definitely look after you.” Abdul was a little taken aback by the offer but he readily agreed and nodded with a smile. “That is a good business that you have there and I would surely like to invest. A bigger stall, some better connections and the three of you could be sending fresh fruits to the Sultan’s palace.” Hassan said with a smile.
Half a decade had passed since that day, Abdul was working with Nadir and Mustafa. He had never been happier in his life. True to his words, Hassan had helped them immensely, he helped them set up a beautiful stall, with marble walls and exotic carpets, he helped them establish connections with cultivators and the pantry at the Sultan’s palace. They were all happy and content with life and every so often they would go to visit Hassan and spend their afternoons, enjoying supper and merrily chatting away until the sun had set.
A Tale from The Crimson Citadel @2020
