Every day, before Egemed roamed the city, he always visited his father at the office first, carrying a lunchbox to make sure his father wouldn't go hungry. His father often told him not to trouble himself, yet he smiled quietly at his son's devotion. Afterward, Egemed set out into the city, observing life, learning from it, and walking its streets until evening.
---
Stepping out of the taxi, Egemed looked up at the tall building before him. A deep sigh escaped him. Here I am again. He smiled faintly and took in the throng of people rushing past, each lost in their own world.
As he walked, something caught his eye. At a street corner, a small group of children sat huddled together. They were begging, their clothes in tatters, hair matted, faces streaked with dirt. When they noticed him watching, they smiled cautiously.
Egemed approached slowly. The children flinched, ready to run.
"Hey, kids," he said softly, arms outstretched. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Come here."
His gentle tone stopped them. They stayed in place, still wary. Egemed sat down among them, smiling. He patted their heads and tugged their hair lightly, as if they were his own little brothers.
"Did you have lunch?" he asked.
They shook their heads.
"Do you understand me?" he asked, using gestures from sign language.
After a pause, the older boy nodded.
"Can you speak?"
"Yes," the boy replied cautiously.
"Do you mind coming with me somewhere?"
Fear flashed in the boy's eyes. "No… we have to stay here. If we bump into someone, they'll chase us away."
Egemed's smile softened into a quiet sadness. "I'll be with you. Don't worry." Seeing their fear, he stood and said, "Wait here. I'll come back, okay?" The children's eyes lit up, expecting him to return with something. They nodded eagerly, smiling.
---
Egemed walked to a nearby food store. The line was long, but he waited patiently, watching people make their orders. When it was his turn, he said:
"Eleven bottles of mango juice, ten pieces of bread, five pomegranates, and a packet of lollipops, please."
"Going to a children's park, sir?" the shopkeeper asked.
"No," Egemed said with a soft smile.
"You look young. Do you have children?"
"No, sir," he chuckled quietly. "I'm only twenty-one. Not my time yet."
"That will be 1,475 rupees… but just pay 1,470—it's okay," the man said.
"Thank you so much, sir," Egemed replied, leaving the store.
---
The children waited anxiously. When they saw him return, their joy was uncontainable. Egemed stopped, watching them, a warmth swelling in his chest. How beautiful they are, waiting for me as if I were their savior.
He arranged them in a circle and began distributing the food. He sat with them, teaching how to peel fruit, eat properly, and dispose of trash. Passersby stared, whispering.
"Look at him, dirtying himself with those brats… if he were my son, I'd kick him out… thinks he's mighty, huh?"
Egemed felt a quiet ache, but he didn't look up. He smiled at the children, tickled their necks, and played with their hair.
"Do you want to come with me now? To play and get toys?" he asked.
The children looked at each other, hesitation fading. Then, with a sense of comfort and trust in Egemed, they shouted in unison, "Yes! Yes!"
Hand in hand, they walked to a trinket shop. Cruel looks and muttered words followed them, but Egemed kept the children close, shielding them from the harshness of the world.
Before entering, the shopkeeper frowned at the group. "Don't worry, I'll pay," Egemed said gently. The shopkeeper stepped aside, and the children selected their toys, laughing with delight as Egemed quietly covered the cost.
On the walk back, Egemed's heart felt heavy. Watching them dance, jump, and play filled him with joy—and a deep sadness. At the corner where he had first met them, he knelt to hug each child.
"I'm sorry, kids. I have to leave, but I promise I'll come back whenever I can," he said.
The children lowered their heads, their eyes filled with disappointment. Egemed handed them the remaining food. "Here, save it for when you're hungry. Be good until I return." He pinched their noses and cheeks, coaxing laughter. They hugged him from every side, pressing against him as he knelt, tears running freely.
The last packet of lollipops was given as a final gift. The children said their goodbyes reluctantly.
"I will visit again, okay? If this Mister breaks his promise, he'll get sick!" Egemed teased with a smile.
They watched him leave, clutching their toys and food, as he waved back, eyes soft, full of love.
. . .
Returning to his hotel, Egemed's heart felt heavy. The exhaustion wasn't from walking the streets—it was from witnessing both the beauty and cruelty of the world. He lay on his bed, still in his clothes, clutching his chest, staring at the ceiling.
He thought of the children, their families, the hardships they endured. Helplessness pressed down on him—he had only his father's money to give, not his own.
Why do people judge so quickly? Why do they hate what they don't understand? If only they could see the world as I do… maybe they would care, love, and protect these children too.
Exhausted, his tears drying on his cheeks, he fell asleep, the light still on, dreams carrying the hope that one day he could truly make a difference.