A meet with a kid

* A meet with a kid *

“Hey Haziq! It’s me,” a chubby tubby boy came out of nowhere, and howled this to me on the street.

“Who’re you?” I asked, wondering how he knew my name.

“Don’t you remember me? I’m the who was with you when you were clean and aloud,” he replied, then he sniggered sarcastically and after then kept quite, as if I knew him from a lifetime.

I took him into the hotel, and asked him, if he likes soft drink or tea.

“Hmmm, well you guess?” he asked.

“Cold drink?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his big brown eyes roving in the hotel, his fingers punching the table, in a way to create the folk music.

Since, I didn’t ordered neither of the things for myself. So, he was quite wandering how could I have done so.

“Don’t you like cold drinks, now?” He asked in a musical rhythm, continuing his fingers punching onto the wooden table.

“Yes, I do. But how do you know that I like cold drinks?” I asked, curiously.

“I know anything,” he said.

“Oh,” I lit a cigarette.

“Don’t you love me?” he asked.

I gazed into his eyes, and I wandered, why he was asking me this, or though his eyes were longing for my love.

“Huh? Don’t you care about me?” He continued to ask.

“Why would I?” I asked, letting smoke to pass out of my throat.

“Who are you, tell me, first hand?” I continued to make whirls of smoke out of my mouth in the hotel, some of which, the smokey circles would last over his innocent face for a quite time.

“I’m a boy. A Dada’s boy. I study the nature while grabbing to one of my nostrils. I oftentimes wonder on colours, rainbow, clouds, thunderbolts, jungles, ghosts, skies, shimmering lightening bolts, snow, downpour and glow worms in the dark streets— what they are. And the way they are. You can see in my eyes, they are dreamy, lively. They see hope. They have a love in them for myself. They care of me; They help to comb me in the mirror and help me to walk the roads, not absent minded, like yours does . They won’t look you either sleepy or, a way too lousy or, yellowish on the inside the way yours are,” he replied.

“Mm, you make some sense. We’ll talk some more. Please, first of all, have this drink,” I said, still sipping the tobacco into my lungs.

“Well! I got to go,” he, all at once, left the hotel.

“Hey! wait, wait,” I almost pleaded before him, following him like a beggar.

“Will meet you some other lifetime,”  he said.

“What was your name again?” I howled, trying to catch his small white milky-white hand.

“Haziq,” he replied, vanishingly in the swarming crowd.

Then I realised the kid I was taking to was a kid of me. I tried to find him in the crowd but I couldn’t. His presence would be felt everywhere, but he was nowhere.


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