Hungry and lost

My friends and I were strolling down the road after our classes ended. We decided to stop at a nearby restaurant. After looking around, we found an empty table, made our way there, and sat down. As soon as we made ourselves comfortable, a waiter came to take an order from us and we did.

While waiting for our meal, we engaged in a casual banter. After five minutes, the waiter returned with our plates, along with chutney, and then walked back to attend to other customers. We couldn't resist looking at our meal, so we began to tuck into it.

While we were feasting on our tasty food, a mentally retarded man of around 40 walked into the restaurant, started glancing around at everyone eating, then slowly made his way towards our table.

"Give me some", he suddenly muttered, fixing his gaze on our food.

His words were so vague that we couldn't make them out when uttered. But his expression communicated what he wanted.

His words laced with longing, pierced my heart. Before I took my next bite, I turned to friends and it appeared from their expressions that they were pained in equal measure, though they couldn't express their feelings.

I had no idea what my friends were thinking, however, I wanted to stand up, offer him a seat and food. I felt pinned as though all my strength was momentarily drained out. He was there standing, expecting to be shortly regaled with food. He couldn't wait to dig in, as his eyes clearly showed.

His expression was so discernible that his hunger began to take him over, it was gnawing at his inwards. His patience was failing him, he couldn't resist standing there, it was clear that he was going to collapse any time soon.

"I want some food" he said, weariness etched into his voice, however, this time it was clear enough to be made out and it captured the attention of the people around.

His words also drew the attention of the owner of the restaurant, who came rushing to make sure that customers were not disturbed. He took the man aside and whispered something into his ear. Although he was disinclined to move, his appetite tormented and forced him to stay. Grabbed him by the arm, the owner tried to push him out while his eyes remained fixed on our food. With hunger pecking at him, he was just a step away from being expelled. The owner's return seemed to refer that everything is alright, subtly hinting that we could continue to enjoy our food. Every bite I took afterwards was not out of taste which it had lost, but out of formality. It was as if the flavour had vanished. At last, we finished, paid the bill and walked out; each one perturbed by what happened. As we said goodbyes and went our separate ways, heading to our respective homes. A feeling of unease began to overwhelm me, as I was walking. With each step I took, it felt heavier than the previous one. And somehow I made it to my home. I greeted my mother and went into my room. No sooner had I sat down than those lingering thoughts came to haunt me. I tried to engage myself in reading a book so as to deviate my mind or keep those thoughts from flashing but to no avail. "I shouldn't have done that," I thought, a sense of guilt washing over me. I couldn't shake off this strange feeling I was subdued by, that I was somehow complicit in the  mistreatment that the man received at the hands of the owner. In order to keep my guilt from getting bigger, I summoned the courage and stepped out in an attempt to find this man.

I sped up and it took me ten minutes to reach near the restaurant. I scoured in and out of the restaurant, even asked passersby if they had seen someone who had been there about half an hour ago, someone who was not mentally stable. To my utter dismay, nobody had. I lingered there for an hour, holding onto the hope that he would show up but he didn't. He had vanished to a distant place, a place from where he might not return—not today, not tomorrow, not until hell freezes over. He wouldn't be aware of what he left behind. Something as wide as the sky perhaps wider than that.

I stood there throwing my desperate glances all around like a mad lover waiting to catch a glimpse of his beloved. He might have satisfied his hunger and even tucked into something far tastier than he could have been served here a while ago. He might be happily living his life now, walking towards his destiny with nothing to worry about.

I couldn't describe the depth of the sorrow that came over me after a long wait. I felt the loneliest man in the world, overtaken by helplessness and stunned into silence. All I wanted was to find him, walk him into the restaurant, offer him a seat next to me and feed him in order to shake off the feeling of my guilt.

By Zahoor Farooq

Zahoor Farooq is an article writer and book reviewer hailing from the town, Khrew.