The Sun Will Keep Shining

The sun will keep shining

~

The faint sunlight pooled into the room, spilling onto the dusty ground and onto the walls. It crept along his arm, highlighting every crevice on his body. The sharp bones that pushed gaunt skin, ribs he could count. He stirred restlessly, sweat breaking out on his skin, a disturbing dream coming to an end. Finally, his eyes shot open.

He slowly sat up. The small room felt hot and stuffy, and he pushed off the thin rag that covered most of his body. Ahmed’s long fingers curled into a weak fist, reaching up to his eyes and rubbing them. The fatigue slowly set in, the urge to lie down and never get up almost overwhelming. But he steeled himself, reminding himself of his duties.

On the mat beside him, his younger sister curled up in a tight ball, a small frown etched across her forehead. Ahmed's heart ached with pain, and more than anything, he wished he could erase that frown of her face. Being the oldest of four was hard. They were just kids, yet forced to live in survival mode.

His parents' mats were empty. Ahmed stood, eyeing his brothers and sisters, before pushing the curtains aside and stepping outside.

The sunlight was brighter here. The neighborhood was empty, except for a few birds chirping atop barren trees, and a few elderly men doing early morning chores. Despite it being summer, a cool breeze blew through the neighborhood, leaves swaying to its melody, fluttering the rag that hung off Ahmed's bony frame.

Ahmed caught sight of his mom sitting near the house, washing the few clothes they owned. He went up to her.

“Amma!” He exclaimed, plopping on the mud beside her.

“Ahmed,” She frowned a bit, looking surprised. Her hands paused. “What are you doing up so early?”

He just shrugged, the real reason tucked away deep in his heart. “I wasn't feeling sleepy,” He murmured.

She shook her head in disapproval, going back to rubbing soap over the faded clothes. Ahmed spotted his too-tight school uniform somewhere in the mix. “You’re a growing child, raja beta, you need sleep.”

He grimaced, evading the question. His hands reached up to his hair, pulling them at the roots. They felt dirty and sticky from days of unwash. Everything depended on whether water would be available that day.

His mom, still bent over the clothes, suddenly turned to him, “Ahmed…” She started, her voice weak, as if she didn’t want to proceed. Ahmed watched her face, the guilt evident no matter how well she tried to hide it. He knew what she was going to say.

“Arjun caught the disease, he’s called in sick.” Her words were fast, as if it would make it better. Ahmed’s mind whirred, his heart sinking. He knew why he had to do this, but the numb anger still came. Ahmed nodded mutely, pushing himself off the mud. “Um, I’ll get ready to get the water,” he muttered, leaving. He could feel his mom’s sad gaze on his back as he walked away, piercing a hole in him, one he didn’t know he could ever mend.

The walk was a 1.5 kilometer walk to the well, relatively short compared to some other people. But combined with the lack of food Ahmed barely had any energy to even stay awake; the walk felt miles long. Escorting the neighborhood's wagon, he lifted buckets of water and piled them in the wagon. The sun slowly rose in the horizon, beating down on Ahmed as he worked. As he pulled the wagon in reverse, he stared at the sun in awe. When everything else might seem unstable, the sun was something solid, a ball of gas and fire breathing life into the richest people and poorest people alike. From Cleopatra to Shakespeare, the same sunrays caressed every human body to set foot on earth. No matter how different their lives were, the sun was everchanging and eternal. Maybe that was the beauty of it. Maybe that's what gave Ahmed hope that things might one day change, however slim those chances were. He would grab onto any sliver linings and let them pull him far away.

His short trek included him passing his school. More than anything, he wanted to go study in that run down building. But he knew he had to help his parents earn even the tiniest amount of money. How lucky some people were to get education, yet throw it away without thinking twice…

When he’d gotten back home, he stashed the water into the corner. Then, he cleaned himself with a sponge and a small glass of water. He roused his siblings from their sleep, one by one helping them put on their school uniforms while they asked him why he wasn’t going to school. He gave them a small, melancholic smile in return. He fed them from his own hands with the little food they had, his own stomach aching with hunger, a black abyss growing inside him, almost plaguing his body.

As his brother and sister went to school, their little bodies fading in the distance, Ahmed returned to the market. The area was crowded, kids running around and shouting, while vendors set up their own stalls. Kids his age, and younger than him worked day and night - it pained him to see them like that. They deserved to be children.

He gulped, going back to arranging the fruits on the table. His stomach ached with longing, but he couldn’t. The hours dragged on as the sun rose through the sky, never stopping. It was familiar, something Ahmed did everyday.

He was joined by some of his friends, and together, they worked. He lifted boxes, negotiated prices, limbs aching, mind burning. But he didn’t stop.

His only hope came when he looked at the sky. Somehow, it told him that things would get better one day. It told him that he wasn't so different, really, from the outside world.

It told him that, even in the darkest times, hope was still there, lurking in the corner. Waiting.

So hope he did.

The end