A Loaf of Bread Ajay Jain, 7 September 2012 With a start, I woke shivering from a nightmare.

Disoriented, I looked around the tiny, dark, room, and the familiar grimy walls, dirt floor and grey cot comforted me. This was the place I called home, my own little hidden oasis. Still shivering, I realized that the straw beneath the door flap had gotten loose and a cold draft was coming in. Thats the second night in a row, I thought, and stumbled to the door. Im already awake, and this straw is going to become loose again before I fall asleep. I pulled on my oversized windbreaker and pushed the flap open to be greeted by a narrow alleyway. I scrambled up the protruding bricks of a long forgotten wall and crawled up onto street level. My shack was a small basement at one point, no longer connected to any house, and would probably never be discovered unless someone was intent on finding me. If anyone cared enough to look for me, I grumbled to myself. It was just past dawn, so it was quiet and the air was chilly, but refreshing. In a few hours, the whole city would awaken and the constant, deafening roar of horses, carts and people would not subside until midnight. I started with a jog down the street without knowing where I wanted to go. I saw a closed food stand across the street, with a sign advertising fresh bread. Mmmm, I thought as my stomach grumbled. I had to find lunch soon, since I only had a moldy chunk of cheese left. I reached the field where the market stood in our district, where merchants were beginning to set up their stands. A round woman stirred a pot of stew and the delicious smell mixed with the scent of baking bread. My stomach rumbled again. They wont give me a slice; Im not a little boy anymore. I was 14, far too old to garner even an iota of sympathy. I did not want to steal; the shopkeepers had to work

hard, and it was not fair for me to take food. Fool! I scolded myself, Dont be righteous! What has this city ever done for you? Do you want to starve? My only other option was to go back to my father, but I shuddered at the thought. My father was a fairly well off merchant, but was a chronic alcoholic. I ran away from home when I was 10 and had lived off the streets since. Even before I left home, I rarely actually stayed there. When he drank, I could not bear to stay in the house. The day I ran away, he had come home late at night smelling of brandy. I began to shiver and the flashback disappeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a quick movement, so fast that I was unsure if it really happened. The marvelous loaf of bread I was staring at was gone! I saw a scrawny, nimble girl who looked about 12 years old darting between the empty food stands, with a loaf-shaped bag strung over her shoulder. Thats my bread! I thought, alarmed, and began sprinting across the field. The girl was about fifty yards ahead of me, but running was the one skill where I was unbeatable. Whenever I had free time, I ran. As passed a low wall separating the fish and meat section of market, she spotted me and climbed up onto the low roof of a rundown, abandoned shop. I scaled the wall quickly and dashed across the shingles. I pursued her, jumping between houses. She was fast and had a lead on me, but I caught up to her. Barely a stride behind her, I lunged forward to grab the bag. She leaped off the roof into a dark alleyway. Off balance and hurtling forward, I tumbled down after her. I landed with a thud on a padded pile of straw. Groaning from impact, I crawled to my feet to find myself in a tight passage between grungy plaster walls, unlit except for the sunlight overhead. The passage was inaccessible from the road. A steep stairwell lead down into the darkness. Curious to see where the girl went, I cautiously

crept down the dark steps. The darkness was almost palpable, and I reached out to feel the walls for direction. A large insect or spider scuttled across my fingers, and I jumped back in revulsion. After the clicking of its legs faded, I touched the damp wall again and proceeded. Just as I was ready to shriek from the oppressive dark, I reached a cavernous room, like a vault. A few sparsely spread torches in wall-mounted braziers gave off enough light for me to distinguish a series of bottle wooden racks. This must be an old wine cellar, I thought as I took a few steps forward. A rough sack smelling of onions and potatoes dropped over my head. With muffled cries, I struggled to no avail. I was dragged into a circular room off the cellar to a teenager around 18 years old wearing a black jacket. A pudgy, muscular boy and the girl who stole the bread stood off to the side. The boy in the jacket had an air of confidence about him, and a long, pale scar traced along his cheek and chin lent him the presence of a seasoned war veteran. He studied me unnervingly with an inscrutable look for a minute, and then in a hardened tone, said Hello. Why are you here? I.. I.. I began, but coughed before I could form a sentence. The sack had left my throat coated in dust, and the dry air in the cellar made it difficult to breathe. The air can become dry, and we could have avoided the potato bag, he said in an unapologetic tone. In a hoarse voice, I rasped, Who are you? Let me leave! With a hint of vexation, he replied, I should be asking who you are. You chased this girl down into our home. Distraught, I whimpered, I was hungry and she had bread! I wont bother you again. He shook his head and whispered something to the bulky boy, who grabbed my

arm harshly and pulled me out of the room onto a raised platform at the end of the main cellar. The platform was better lit than the rest of the cavern, but I had not seen it at first. Scattered around the platform were more people around my age staring at me. To the side of the platform, bulging bags were piled up. With a gasp of surprise, I saw coins and jewelry spilling out of an expensive, ornamented vase. The scarred boy walked to the middle of the platform and in a calm tone began speaking. We were all once like you: hungry and trying to find our way by. We work together to stay off the streets. Youre all thieves! Where did you get those? I spat, gesturing at the precious items. Still in an even tone, but with a fierce flicker in his eyes, he said, Does it matter? You may view us as unscrupulous, but you do what you must to survive, and so do we. We live the life of ascetics, only taking the amenities absolutely needed. Enraged, I shouted, Liar! You do not need jewelry to survive! You all are no more than indolent, filthy swine! You... You... My outcry died in my throat as I saw him stroking the curved hilt of a knife in his belt. I looked down at my worn shoes and suppressed a retort. If I play along with him for a while, I might be able to escape. He continued speaking. Since you discovered our hideout, we cannot simply let you go free. However, we will give you a chance because we prize skill. You can leave the way you came, as long as we dont catch you. And if I dont play along? I inquired. Feigning an affable voice, he replied, See this blade? I acquired it from a Persian trader recently, and have been rather eager for an opportunity to test it. I took a moment to study the wine cellar. I would have to cross around two

hundred yards to reach the stairwell. Straight in front of me was a slightly askew ladder leading to a scaffold. I might make it out, but I dont know if I can outrun them all. There were about ten thieves surrounding me, waiting for my move. I dont have a choice. What are they going to do if I dont escape? I bolted forward toward the ladder, and could hear clattering noises behind me as pandemonium broke out. I leapt off the platform onto the middle of the ladder and clambered up, but a hand firmly grasped my ankle. I kicked down and heard a thunk as someone hit the ground. I reached the scaffold, but almost toppled over as it swayed. Looking down, I saw a tall boy with a black eye and a furious look scaling the ladder. I sprinted along the scaffold at a reckless, breakneck pace. Even though I tried not to fall off, midway I stepped on a rotten board. A large section of wood slammed into the cavern floor, and the boy who caught me when I entered the cellar squealed in pain below. Serves him right. I thought, but barely managed to avoid falling too. The tall boy was bearing down on me quickly. I jumped off the edge of the scaffold and landed with a roll past the gap. Darting forward, I spotted a rope hanging from the ceiling beside the scaffold, but the leader of the thieves was jogging towards me. Without any time to think, I grabbed the rope and slid down to the floor, right next to the girl who stole the bread. With a chuckle, I seized her the loaf of bread from her and crossed the final few yards to the stairwell. Taking the steps in twos and threes, I bounded up to the passage where I first landed. I hopped up a pile of crates onto a roof and jumped down into the street. While tearing into the still-warm loaf, I walked down the road.