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BEGGING FOR LOVE

A short story for high school students

Abdelouahed OULGOUT Junior high school teacher of English

-1high school LEVEL

ENGLISH WEB FOR COMMUNICATION

BEGGING FOR LOVE

A short story for high school students

Abdelouahed OULGOUT
Junior high school teacher

Copyright 2009

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Dedication

To my students everywhere, To my friends in ECDC, To every truth seeker, To les misrable, To my teachers and educators, To my father and mother, To my brothers and sisters, To my future wife, I dedicate this humble work of literature.

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Abandoned by unknown parents, Bilal, a young beggar in Meknes city sat leaning against a mosque in hope to gain a plenty of money to feed himself. Day after day, begging turned to be his sole job and livelihood. Though his stomach is usually full, Bilal still feels a hungry stomach somewhere inside his body. Such suspicious hunger often provokes him to begin recalling the story of his old but lasting destitution. Yet, all that he could recall was an enormous mixture of noise, ghosts, and foggy images about a father and a mother in deadful quarrel. - Whats my sin to be thrown out, here? Bilal complained. That question which he asked himself dissolved Bilal into tears. The later had digged two parallel rivers of misery along his round cheeks, upon which some fresh scars spread to stand for all sorts of hardship and deprivation. - He had nowhere to live in and no one to live with. He is a branch of a broken tree thrown off into nowhere, said a group of old men, sitting side by side with their backs against the wall of the mosque. One Friday, Bilal went out as usual to gain his lunch and dinner. A boy like him was born not to live, but to struggle for survival. He walked to the mosque with his dress full of spots and dirt. When he reached the place, he sat beside the door with his knees on the ground. Half an hour after the Imam finished the prayer; the boy took off his hat and spread his arm straight to the worshipers, coming out from the mosque. He couldnt utter a word; however, his little miserable face is enough to tear peoples eyes and move their hearts and pockets. Though the boy came back with his pockets full of coins, he still couldnt feel happy; a stomach somewhere, in his body, still and urgently calls for nurture, but not as any nurture. On the road to Lazari, where he would spend the night, Bilals attention was caught by a pretty girl, standing next to Zitoun High School. Suddenly, He felt as if a beam of light leaked into his heart and turned into a wide warm smile on his face. He couldnt resist it, or perhaps he didnt wish so, for it is the missing hope one needs to feel ok. - The hunger of heart is worse than the hunger of stomach, I realised. One Saturday, Bilal sat in front of the school door, waiting for the girl as usual. At twelve oclock, the bell rang, and the students started leaving. Bilal decided to talk to her no matter what it might cost him. - But what would I tell her? thought Bilal. Before he decided on what to say and how to say it, Bilal, surprised by the girls prettiness, moved back her in hope to talk to her. While on the road, the girl felt she is chased. - Whore you? Why are you chasing me? asked the girl, roughly. - Im Bilal. Whats your name? said Bilal in a terrified tone. - What for? replied she. - I just want to know, said he. - Im Hanan. Any more question? replied Hanan vexedly.

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At this moment, Bilal stuck speechlessly to his place with his heart fallen apart. When she saw tears rolling down his cheeks, Hanan took out a white handkerchief and started clearing up the tears and scrabs in his egg-like face. Fortunately, this action eased Bilal and saved him from sure death. - Im so sorry, khuya. I was just kidding, said hanan passionately. Come with me! Together on the road, Hanan hold Bilals dry hand and drove him home. As a way to ensure that he wasnt a bit hurt of the way she treated him, Hanan added, I didnt know youre so sensitive, Khuya. Please forget about it! When they arrived at home, Hanan rushed into her well-favoured house and, cheerfully, brought a sack containing some fruits and vegetables, three loaves of bread, and some sugar. - Take! said she. Surprisingly, Bilals eyes began tearing again. - Whats up?Hanan wondered. Why are you weeping? - Im here wishing to feed my heart, not my stomach, said Bilal hopelessly and scrammed in a wink. The night fell and a shooting star dived into the heart of darkness. What a real flop! How could such a chap cope with such a night? If only I could grab his hand and hug him close to my chest. I wish. Seven nights gone and Bilal went back to the drawing board seeking a new destiny. His mission had been to keep away from the past, undergo the present, and confront an unknown future. Now that he lost his heart, Bilal had to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. Its Sunday morning. Bilal got out of a sewer beside the Sunday Market, hearing people downloading goods from trucks and taxi drivers quarrelling for clients. When he cast an eye towards the crowd, he noticed many boys in his age with two-wheeled carts, transporting goods into the market square. He could see the boys being paid two to five dirhams after each round. He could also spot a wide smile on their nameless faces when their fingers grab the coins around in the palms. Bilal rolled up his sleeves and got near a truck. - I want to work; I need money, Bilal requested. - Are you prepared to work like a dog? Where is your cart? replied the truck owner ridiculously. - I havent got any, but Ill carry the boxes, one by one, on my shoulders, argued Bilal. - Fat chance! Get away; Ive no time to waste, the man retorted in an apparently nervous tone. - Please let me give it a shot, please, Begged Bilal. Sympathetically influenced by his determination, the truck owner allowed Bilal to transport the boxes from the truck to a tent inside the market. He put the heavy boxes, one by one, onto his shoulders and placed them in the tent. Drop by drop, Bilal finished the task and got his first immediate wage.

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- Thank you so much sir. I wont forget your favour, Bilal said gratefully. - Dont mention it; its business, said the man. - You know? Bilal continues. I hope I can help you download the truck again and again. Ive no one to take care of me. I need to work; I need money. - Ive no objection, but I guess your shoulders are not mature enough to keep lifting more than your weight every Sunday. Arent they? said the man. - I can go on that initially, and then Ill buy my own cart, suggested the boy confidently. - Good thinking! See you then, said the truck owner. The man paid the boy a good compliment and pursued his bargains. On the following Sunday, before the sun rose, the boy had already been there. When the truck arrived, the man got surprised seeing the boy awake and well prepared. If only I had a child in his manhood, said the man under his breath, and then kept contemplating as the boy jumped into the truck, downloading goods. The man, whose name is El-hajj Olkhir, is a known merchant and widowman in the city. His lovely wife was a barren woman; and because of her long-lasting barrenness, she died of sorrow and despair, leaving her life partner alone in a big house in the heart of El-hamria. Though still in his fifties, Olkhir had never thought to remarry; his first love had absorbed his memory and left his heart busy thinking about her. Olkhir was rich enough to keep his hands crossed and let his men run his business as he used to do, but, ironically, Olkhir fired most of his employees to take charge of the business by himself. He was surely willing to feel free forgetting his missing love, yet, no matter what he did, he couldnt get fully rid of it. The boy finished emptying the truck and turned back to leave. - Where to? asked Olkhir. - Where time takes me, answered Bilal. - Stay with me; I still need you, said the man charmingly, You can help me sell the goods and get more money. Its no hard job. - What can I do? Bilal wondered. - You can do a lot. Do what you know and what you dont know, the man said to boost the boys exuberance. It doesnt matter if it doesnt make sense. Just get peoples attention here. Show me how able youre to go into trade, boy! Bit by bit, Bilals clapping and shouting gathered the customers around and, soon, the goods sold out in no more than an hour. Year after year, Bilal, Olkhirs right-hand man, made a bundle selling and bargaining. He no longer needs to purchase a cart or exhaust his little shoulders as he used to do, for he is now a business manager, a man of trust

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and dignity, and a very important person all Meknes traders have great honor to deal with. - Now that you are heads and shoulders above all the guys in the city, I think I should give you a tip of advice, the man said seriously. You should look for your other half to keep yourself pious; your prayer isnt enough to save you in such ugly time. - What do you mean, uncle? asked Bilal. - Well, I think its time to make a change and settle down. Find a girl and have your share of happiness, Olkhir said. Do you get what I mean, son? - Ah, I see. But I need time to think over that, replied Bilal. - Take your time and think a lot; but, remember, Olkhir continued. Religion should be the standard of your choice. Never trust pictures. - Sure, uncle. You can count on me, said Bilal with confidence. Inspired by Olkhirs late advice, Bilal went out to seek his other half. He drove nowhere but to the faculty of letters and humanities in Moulay Ismail University, an open space where he used to go in his early puberty, not for the intention to make friends, but because of an inexplicable eager to be a student. Now that his intention is to marry, Bilal had to open his lens and look forward. Before the university big door, there were small bookshops on the pavement. - Mr. Bilal...hey! someone from Alanwar bookshop called, waving to Bilal. As Bilal got close to the shop, the person, whom he knows very well, grabbed his hand and hugged him close to his chest, kissing his shouldersright and left. - How is your day, dear? asked the shop owner. - Cant complain, Bilal answered. - Where have you been all this time? continued the man. We missed you a lot, - Its business; I rarely have time to take a breath, said Bilal. - I know, I know, the man said. You are such a businessman, he added. Well, Can I do you a favor? - Ya. My uncles insisted on me to get married, and Ive my heart set on that, said Bilal. - Way to go! Whats the problem, then? - Its no problem at all. Im here to consult you and help me make up my mind and pick the right choice, said Bilal. I know you know all the ins and outs over here. Dont you? - Ha-ha laughed the man with pride. You can say that again. While still talking, a girl interrupted the conversation. - As-salam alaykum, the girl greeted.

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- Wa-alaykum as-salam wa rahmatu L-lah wa baraakatuh, replied Bilal and the shop owner. - Can I help you? said the shop owner. - Could you please make a copy of this book? the girl requested. - Yeah, answered the man hospitably. Sure. While the man was busy making the copy, Bilal couldnt resist stealing glances at the holy girl beside him. She was such a maiden girl with a long black dress covering her body from head to feet. Her rose smiling face and little hands sound soft and delicate. Nothing in her should be accused or mistaken. Is she the right choice? I wonder. - I think you are in a hurry. I need more time to make the copy. The book contains hundreds of pages. You can go and drop by later, said the man. - OK, the girl agreed. Ill be back in midday. - You know, Lhssen? asked Bilal. - What? said Lhssen with a question mark on his face. - I think Ive seen that girl somewhere one day, said Bilal, putting his right index across his lips. - Where? And when? asked Lhssen. - I cant remember, but her face isnt so strange to me, said Bilal with suspicion. - Well, said Lhssen. That was Ms Hanan - Hanan? Bilal exclaimed. - Yeah. She is Hanan El-alawi, the daughter of a known sheikh in Rissani. Theyve settled here since ten years, Lhssen continued. They live over there in Zehwa. Having mixed feelings about the girl, Bilal grabbed his friends hand and drove him to Zehwa like a sheep. - Show me where she lives! ordered Bilal. - Okey, okey, Lhssen responded to and commanded him to the right destination. Ten minutes later, Bilal found himself before a well-favored villa, surrounded by a glorious garden of sunflowers. The building wasnt so strange to him either. He felt he was there one day, but the image in his mind is too foggy to remember. Business has settled his short-term memory and distracted it from any attempt to flashback down into the heart of history, I guess. - Well, thiss her house, Sheikh El-alawi Villa. Are you OK, now? said Lhssen. - Bilal nodded. Its five to midday, Bilal and his friend moved back to the shop. As expected, the girl was there, waiting nearby. - Sorry for being late, khti, Lhssen apologized.

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- No need to apologize; Ive just left school, the girl accepted the apology. - Well, said Lhsesen. Here is your book, - How much? asked the girl. - 60 dirhams if you afford it, answered Lhssen liberally. The girl paid him the price and left away. Unable to figure out the secret behind that girl, Bilal had to ask more questions to fully feed his curiosity. - You said her names Hanan and shes a daughter of Sheikh El-alawi? Tell me more about her father,Bilal quested. - Well, as Ive already told you, Sheikh El-alawi is a well-known old man of Sufism. People say his grandfather was sherif, for he traces back to Ahl El-bayt. Yet, in spite of his good reputation, some people doubt his honesty and accuse him of being racist and hypocrite, Lhssen continues. Others think hes a secret agent. - You mean he works for the government? Bilal interrupted. - Im not sure. People dont dare ask him such questions because, as they say, hes protected by the king, said Lhssen. - What for? asked Bilal. - Because both are shurafa; they both belong to the royal family, I guess, Lhssen said thoughtfully. - I see now how such an old man can make such a bundle doing nothing, said Bilal under his breath. - Well, youve bombarded me with questions about the girl. Whats there? Why did you burst out when you knew her name is Hanan? asked Lhssen. - Um, I dont feel like telling you the story right now. Please dont importune me to tell anything before Im sure, said Bilal with hesitation. - No need to plead. Feel free to talk at the moment you want to, said Lhssen while preparing to leave for lunch. Bilal went back home to break Olkhir the news. Lhssen didnt realize his friend has fallen in love with the girl in black, but he was sure something secretary was going on, something his friend didnt like to give away. - As-salam alaykum, uncle, Bilal greeted. - Wa-alaykum as-salam wa rahmatu L-lah wa baraakatuh, son. Any news? asked Olkhir longingly. - Sure. I think Ive found the right person. Im dying to talk to her father, said Bilal enthusiastically. - What Im hearing! said Olkhir with curiosity. Is that love at first sight?

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- I dont think its the first sight. The girl isnt that strange. I now remember where and when I first saw her, said Bilal. I was a begger at that time. - And youre still begging to feed your soul, Olkhir interrupted. - Youre right, Bilal continues. At that time, I had been chasing her because I loved her; but she didnt realize that. She thought I was begging for a loaf of bread to put out my hunger. If only she knew that I love her. - Why wishing? Youre still alive. Lets call her on and tie the knot, suggested Olkhir. Do you know where she lives? - Yes, I do, Bilal assured. While having lunch together, Olkhir was staring at Bilal eating hastily. He could see how deprivation turned the boy into a little soldier fighting against hunger in the field of honor. A will to revenge against the devil that forced him out from paradise down to hell pushed him to put blame on the meal and make a pig of himself. Now that he is back to paradise, one is to crown himself, lie down and take a siesta to hear his bones. Wrapped in dreams, Bilal saw the moon and the sun clashing, releasing seven shattered flinders of glittering flames falling down into the seabed. Only two flames could survive and keep floating on the surface, yet the rest- all the rest- had but to pop off and join their Lord, the most gracious and compassionate. - Bilal, Bilal, wake up! Olkhir screamed. Its time to pray and tie the knot. Bilal woke up to the sudden alarming call of Olkhir. They performed their ablution, dressed up and went out along to Masjid Boumart for the afternoon prayer. Later on, both drove for Sheikh El-alawi Villa. - Is this Sheikh El-alawi Villa, said Olkhir to the door guard. - Yes, it is, replied the guard. Can I help you? - Yeah. Could we see him? requested Bilal. - Wait for awhile, said the guard and got in to ask for permission. The door guard allowed the guests to get in with pleasure. And, as soon as he saw him, Sheikh El-alawi gave Olkhir a warm welcoming regard. - Allah Akbar. El-hajj Olkhir in my house! I cant believe my eyes. Welcome, welcome, greeted El-alawi hospitably. Olkhir was surprised to realize that Sheikh El-alawi knows him, and he was a bit shy and sorry not to have heard about him likewise. - Thank you so much Sidi El-alawi. Its a great honor for me to see you, said Olkhir with gratitude. - Well, what would you like to drink? said El-alawi. - No need to bother yourself; we wont stay for long, said Olkhir. - No, no, you cant say that again, said El-alawi, nodding his disapproval.

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Sheikh El-alawi winked at the maidservant beside him to bring something. Few minutes later, the servant came with a tea tray and a large plate of cakes on his palm. - Well, I thought your wife, may Allah bless her, hadnt had such a handsome guy. Its a great grace from him to have granted you this gift, said El-alawi while clapping lightly on Bilals back. Being unable to confess that Bilal isnt his son, Olkhir kept silent; he couldnt dare to utter a word, for this may be offending to Bilals face and feelings. However, Bilal intervened and spoke the truth. - Im a foundling; Ive no one but Allah and this generous man whom Id like to call uncle, Bilal revealed nervously. Olkhir twisted his head, unable to bear the truth of this miserable creature that time casted away and turned his luck up-side-down. - Well, is that what youre here for? asked El-alawi to keep the ball rolling. - Never. We are here to get hitched with your daughter, on the sunah of Allah and his Prophet, salla Llahu alayhi wa sallam, Olkhir stated right away. - Salla Llahu alayhi wa sallam, repeated Sheikh El-alawi. - Bilal is a wise guy; hes suffered a lot to make a living and stand on his feet. Hes no longer that panhandler; hes now my sole son and successor, argued Olkhir. - Well, whispered Sheikh El-alawi with a close attention. Hanan isnt my daughter, - What? Bilal and Olkhir exclaimed. - Yeah. She was a beggar. She used to spend most of her time in bus stations, pleading passengers to lend her a hand, Sheikh El-alawi took a deep breath and continued. She suffered a lot, too, before I took her in to cover her up. - What a coincidence! Bilal wondered. Shes just like me. I went through such humiliation, too. - Your eyes sound like hers, too, said Sheikh E-alawi humorously. - Ha-haha-haha-ha the men burst out laughing and clapping on their knees. Indulged in dramatic scenes of rise and fall, Sheikh El-alawi went upstairs to consult his daughter- I mean the adopted Hanan. - A wise guy downstairs is requesting your hand, dear, said Sheikh Elalawi. - Hanan bowed her head and kept silent. - Hes named Bilal, said the father. - What? Hanan exclaimed. - As you heard. Hes a man of trust and dignity, said the father. Hed been a poor foundling before a businessman adopted him and wrote all

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his fortune in his name. I think you know that generous man; hes Elhajj Olkhir, a famous trader in the city, do you? - Yeah. I know the boy, too. Ive seen him this morning, said Hanan. I first saw him five years ago when I joined high school. - He was still a poor guy at that time, was he? he added. - Ya. I remember that he was chasing me. He was here on the doorstep one day. I thought he was hungry. I gave him some money, but he burst out weeping and ran away, Hanan shed tears passionately and squeezed Sheikh El-alawi in her arms. - I see, I see. He wasnt begging for money; he was begging for you. He surely loves you, Sheikh El-alawi added. Now that you know who he is, do you wish him to be your husband? - Hanan smiled and immersed in a world of silence and shyness. Three days before the wedding day, Bilal and his friend were busy distributing the invitations and making the final arrangements. They went to Marjan where Bilal purchased a wedding robe for his bride, and then he notified the Marjan private distributor to take charge of the needed wedding meals and staff and bring them in due time to Bilals New Villa. - THE ADOPTED SON OF THE FAMOUS OLKHIR GETS MARRIED, reported Tafelalet news headlines. Its the wedding day. El-hajj Olkhir and Sheikh El-alawi dressed in white and stood at the entrance, welcoming the guests. Lhssen was busy flapping and clapping; whereas, Bilal, surrounded by a glorious halo, was sitting there beside his other better half. Hanan was such a white butterfly, and Bilal was her sole heart and only love. Its six, afternoon. People, the VIP, were still there, gathered in a large salon, waiting the couple to enter their room. Half an hour later, an elderly woman like a ghost broke into the salon, hollering and crying. - No, no, no, no, the woman complained. Shes your sister, your sister Shocked and traumatized, the couple felt as if the sky was falling down on their heads. Ah! Shes their biological mother, the woman whom divorce threw into the heart of darkness and murdered five nestlings among the seven her marriage to a crook gave her, I remember. The bride broke down, and the little defeated soldier fell on his knees, unable to breathe a word. Sooner not later, the sun set and took the couple back, down into the hell of history.

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BEGGING FOR LOVE

A short story for high school students
This is the story of a young beggar who had been abandoned and thrown off into nowhere because of a family breakdown. He was deprived of the basic physical and spiritual needs, degraded and humiliated since his early childhood. At first, Bilal could satisfy his physical needs through begging. He also managed to go into business and make a bundle in his early puberty. But he couldnt feel happy, though; his heart was requesting something beyond that. He went through many experiences to set the balance and get the missing side of his nature, but all the attempts ended in failure. When he was about to make it and thought sufferance has ended, his miserable past came back and took him back, down into the hell of history.

Written and published by EWC manager, Abdelouahed OULGOUT

English Web for Communication is an educational English school project launched by the junior high school teacher of English, Mr. Abdelouahed OULGOUT, to enhance communication and creativity among students in high school E-mail : oulgout@gmail.com
Forum : www.4truth.ecoleforum.com Phone : +212652079168