u/IamToofan

This used to air on Discovery Kids in a Hindi dub. There was a girl who was chosen for a prince from another planet, but she refuses. Then, Chimpui stays with her to take care of her and prepare her for the prince, and he always keeps helping her just like Doraemon used to do for Nobita. Even though it had a female protagonist, I used to watch it in my childhood.

This used to air on Discovery Kids in a Hindi dub. There was a girl who was chosen for a prince from another planet, but she refuses. Then, Chimpui stays with her to take care of her and prepare her for the prince, and he always keeps helping her just like Doraemon used to do for Nobita. Even though it had a female protagonist, I used to watch it in my childhood.

In this new house, my younger brother tied a rope to the roof with a ball attached to it that hangs there constantly. He hits it with his bat and plays all day because he has no friends in this new place, and I never feel like playing with him. Because of the noise of his cricket, I can't even study; he never gets tired and keeps at it the whole day. On top of that, a cat has started coming to our house lately, and he has kept it inside. Now, more than the clicking of cricket, a heavy meowing echoes through the house.

​One day, I was getting ready for college with my books when it suddenly clung to my leg. I jerked my leg away—not that I wanted to do it, but it just happened. The cat went flying and hit the wall, then sat there looking stunned. When I went near it, it ran away. For many days after that, it stayed afraid of me.

I was sitting up at midnight studying. I felt thirsty and went toward the kitchen to get water; on my way back, I found that tiger-like cat sitting there. It was sitting there without moving, just watching me, as if it were reading me. I stroked its head, and it wasn't afraid of me. I made a ball out of paper and threw it toward the cat, and it started picking it up in its mouth and bringing it back to me. It’s strange, I noticed today that it doesn’t seem to walk right; it moves with its hips hunched up. After a while, I went back to my studies.

​The next day, when I returned from my college, the cat started clinging to my feet as if welcoming me home. I petted him and gave him some milk to drink.

After dinner, I was heading to my room when the cat stopped me; he had a paper ball in his mouth. I took it and started throwing it hard, back and forth. I watched as I threw it, but he couldn't seem to catch it. My mother, sitting behind me knitting clothes, was laughing at all this. "Mom, look at how he’s walking," I said. "Yes, just like you used to walk as a baby, before you had learned how to walk," she replied. I began to laugh, then I started throwing even harder, all around the house; he just couldn't catch it.

​"I have to go study now, here is the last ball!" I shouted, "Catch it!" as I threw the ball straight at him. To catch it, he stood up on his hind legs, but the ball passed right in front of him. I turned back to laugh with my mother, but she had stopped knitting. Her hands were trembling; her eyes were wide with terror and her mouth hung open. "What happened to you?" I asked. The needle slipped from her hands and she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Get it out! Get it out of here!"

I turned around to look, and that cat was standing on both its legs. He turned back and picked up the ball with both his hands. Before I could even process what was happening, he dropped the ball, fell onto his back, and began to laugh loudly while clutching his stomach. His voice was bizarre—like a mixture of a lion's roar and a human's laugh. The lights in the hall began to flicker and surge.

​"This is not a cat," my mother said, looking at me. As I slowly started walking toward it, all the lights went out and a total, dead silence fell over the house. I switched on my torch, and the cat was gone. I shone the torch behind me—my mom had vanished from her chair. I flashed my torch wildly, screaming, "Mom! Mom!"

Just then, I heard someone's voice; I turned and shone the torch, only to see that my brother had been dragged there, his neck tied with the same rope he had used to attach the ball. The torch slipped from my hands, and I rushed to save my brother. I lifted him with all my strength and screamed for him to untie the knot, but his weight kept dragging him down; the rope wouldn't open either. I began looking around for a chair, but my brother was thrashing his arms and legs, and I was breaking into a cold sweat. Just then, the sound of the rope tightening even further echoed. Warm drops began falling onto my hands, and then he stopped struggling.

Right then, I heard my mom's scream. "Mom!" I screamed, running downstairs and then back up, but my mother was nowhere to be found.

Then suddenly I remembered, the house had a basement we had never explored. I went there and found that the lock—the one we had put on ourselves—was missing. I slowly opened the heavy door; the wind and dust swirled so violently that it was hard to see anything. I brushed away the spiderwebs and began to descend the wooden stairs, which felt like they would snap at any moment. A foul, terrible stench was rising from below.

Just then, a ball hit me in the face—it was made of paper. I shone my torch, and there sat that cat, staring intensely at me.

​My heart hammered against my ribs; my fingers refused to stay steady. Still, gathering my courage, I asked hesitantly, "Where is my mother?"

​He leapt down, and as he stood up on his legs, he grew to the size of a full-grown man until he was standing right in front of me. “He played. He called. I came,” he said.

​"But my m—mom..."

​He placed his hand on his bloated stomach and began to laugh loudly. Something shifted inside him… as if trying to move. I looked down, my mother’s clothes and glasses lay at his feet.

In this new house, my younger brother tied a rope to the roof with a ball attached to it that hangs there constantly. He hits it with his bat and plays all day because he has no friends in this new place, and I never feel like playing with him. Because of the noise of his cricket, I can't even study; he never gets tired and keeps at it the whole day. On top of that, a cat has started coming to our house lately, and he has kept it inside. Now, more than the clicking of cricket, a heavy meowing echoes through the house.

​One day, I was getting ready for college with my books when it suddenly clung to my leg. I jerked my leg away—not that I wanted to do it, but it just happened. The cat went flying and hit the wall, then sat there looking stunned. When I went near it, it ran away. For many days after that, it stayed afraid of me.

I was sitting up at midnight studying. I felt thirsty and went toward the kitchen to get water; on my way back, I found that tiger-like cat sitting there. It was sitting there without moving, just watching me, as if it were reading me. I stroked its head, and it wasn't afraid of me. I made a ball out of paper and threw it toward the cat, and it started picking it up in its mouth and bringing it back to me. It’s strange, I noticed today that it doesn’t seem to walk right; it moves with its hips hunched up. After a while, I went back to my studies.

​The next day, when I returned from my college, the cat started clinging to my feet as if welcoming me home. I petted him and gave him some milk to drink.

After dinner, I was heading to my room when the cat stopped me; he had a paper ball in his mouth. I took it and started throwing it hard, back and forth. I watched as I threw it, but he couldn't seem to catch it. My mother, sitting behind me knitting clothes, was laughing at all this. "Mom, look at how he’s walking," I said. "Yes, just like you used to walk as a baby, before you had learned how to walk," she replied. I began to laugh, then I started throwing even harder, all around the house; he just couldn't catch it.

​"I have to go study now, here is the last ball!" I shouted, "Catch it!" as I threw the ball straight at him. To catch it, he stood up on his hind legs, but the ball passed right in front of him. I turned back to laugh with my mother, but she had stopped knitting. Her hands were trembling; her eyes were wide with terror and her mouth hung open. "What happened to you?" I asked. The needle slipped from her hands and she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Get it out! Get it out of here!"

I turned around to look, and that cat was standing on both its legs. He turned back and picked up the ball with both his hands. Before I could even process what was happening, he dropped the ball, fell onto his back, and began to laugh loudly while clutching his stomach. His voice was bizarre—like a mixture of a lion's roar and a human's laugh. The lights in the hall began to flicker and surge.

​"This is not a cat," my mother said, looking at me. As I slowly started walking toward it, all the lights went out and a total, dead silence fell over the house. I switched on my torch, and the cat was gone. I shone the torch behind me—my mom had vanished from her chair. I flashed my torch wildly, screaming, "Mom! Mom!"

Just then, I heard someone's voice; I turned and shone the torch, only to see that my brother had been dragged there, his neck tied with the same rope he had used to attach the ball. The torch slipped from my hands, and I rushed to save my brother. I lifted him with all my strength and screamed for him to untie the knot, but his weight kept dragging him down; the rope wouldn't open either. I began looking around for a chair, but my brother was thrashing his arms and legs, and I was breaking into a cold sweat. Just then, the sound of the rope tightening even further echoed. Warm drops began falling onto my hands, and then he stopped struggling.

Right then, I heard my mom's scream. "Mom!" I screamed, running downstairs and then back up, but my mother was nowhere to be found.

Then suddenly I remembered, the house had a basement we had never explored. I went there and found that the lock—the one we had put on ourselves—was missing. I slowly opened the heavy door; the wind and dust swirled so violently that it was hard to see anything. I brushed away the spiderwebs and began to descend the wooden stairs, which felt like they would snap at any moment. A foul, terrible stench was rising from below.

Just then, a ball hit me in the face—it was made of paper. I shone my torch, and there sat that cat, staring intensely at me.

​My heart hammered against my ribs; my fingers refused to stay steady. Still, gathering my courage, I asked hesitantly, "Where is my mother?"

​He leapt down, and as he stood up on his legs, he grew to the size of a full-grown man until he was standing right in front of me. “He played. He called. I came,” he said.

​"But my m—mom..."

​He placed his hand on his bloated stomach and began to laugh loudly. Something shifted inside him… as if trying to move. I looked down, my mother’s clothes and glasses lay at his feet.

https://youtube.com/shorts/TkLvqhj\_PNk?si=PQkOSIMr0alTC-kK

It used to air on Pogo in Hindi dub, and I watched it a lot during my childhood. A shooting star fell into a bakery, and that’s how Anpanman was born. He used to feed his own bun head to others, and he gained strength whenever a new head was attached. I searched on YouTube, but only a few clips are available in Hindi now. I used to have so much fun watching it.

It used to air on Pogo in Hindi dub, and I watched it a lot during my childhood. A shooting star fell into a bakery, and that’s how Anpanman was born. He used to feed his own bun head to others, and he gained strength whenever a new head was attached. I searched on YouTube, but only a few clips are available in Hindi now. I used to have so much fun watching it.

​When night falls, he will come back.

You are alone in the room at that time.

The sound of the gate creaking begins,

Yet, do not wake up.

​​The fan will speed up.

It will roar, drowning the wind.

Footsteps will echo in your ears,

Yet, do not wake up.

​You will feel the bed sink near your feet.

Slowly, your bedsheet will slide away.

The fan’s air will suddenly touch your bare skin.

Yet, do not wake up.

​When you feel someone’s hand on your feet,

Your eyes will snap open in an instant.

This firm, warm hand will feel strangely familiar,

Yet, remain lying there.

​Your gaze will shift toward the window,

And you will say to yourself, "But I had left it open."

Darkness will have engulfed the room;

Even that lamp will have turned off.

But do not say a word.

​When your phone rings,

Its light will flicker across his face—just for a second, but enough.

But you will only see despair,

Because the face will belong to someone you know.

​Before you can scream at them,

He will cover your mouth.

“How is he back?”

“My mother and I… we made sure he was gone.”

​You won't be able to understand.

He will whisper softly into your ear:

“You missed me, didn’t you… stepdaughter?”

When Wajeed opened his eyes, he saw a bald man with a long white beard standing before him. The man’s eyes were barely open, and even his eyebrows were stark white. Wajeed sat up abruptly, 'Where am I?

​'This place is called the Void,' the old man replied. Wajeed looked around; everything was white as far as the eye could see. People were formed into different circles, revolving around a central white light. 'What is this place? How did I get here?'

​'People here don't call it "coming," they call it being "born,"' the old man said. 'Born? But I'm not a child,' Wajeed countered. 'People are born here at different ages. Look at me—when I was born here, I was even older than you.'

But if that's the case, where are my parents?" Wajeed asked. "Parents?" "Yes, my mother and father!" "What mother and father?" "The ones who bring us into this world! Uncle, do I really have to explain this to you in detail?" "I don't know what kind of dream you were having, but that doesn't happen here. Look at those beds spread out everywhere—a light flashes, and people appear on those beds in a deep sleep. When they are woken up, they don't ask any questions. But I've heard that there are some people, like you, who talk in such nonsensical ways.

​'Is this some kind of joke? Am I dead?' Wajeed asked, trembling. 'No, if you were dead, you would have simply vanished.' 'Fine... then who are you?' 'My name is Raquib. And yours?' Wajeed’s eyes darted around, his brow furrowing in confusion. 'Take it easy, child. Not everyone knows their name when they’re born here. They discover it later.'

​'How?' Wajeed asked quickly. 'Think of it as an inner voice. Some people never find their name their entire lives.' 'Then how do you talk to each other?' 'We are given numbers. Mine used to be 7.'

​'So what do I do now? I don’t understand anything.' 'Do what everyone else does. Join any circle and start revolving around the light.' 'But what will that achieve? Can't I do anything else?' 'No. There is no other work here. Men wake up, eat, circle the light, eat again when tired, and go to sleep.'

​'I never thought I’d have to do all this right after being born. This sounds incredibly boring,' Wajeed complained. 'It’s not like that. Once you get used to it, it’ll feel right.' Just then, Raquib’s wristwatch began to ring. 'Hey, hurry up! My job today was to gather the newborns and explain the work. Now, get to it. I’m heading to my circle.'

Wajeed stood up and began to wander. People were revolving in different circles, each with its own light. Wajeed approached one of the circles. 'Can I join this too?' he asked, but no one paid him any attention; they just kept moving forward.

​Wajeed spotted a small gap and tried to squeeze in, but the person behind him shoved him out instantly. 'How dare you get in front of me, huh?!'

​Wajeed fell to the ground. The man who pushed him began to slowly walk toward him, but suddenly Raquib stepped in. 'Let it go, Adil. He was just born.'

​Adil looked at Wajeed and then at Raquib. 'Fine... but make sure you tell him about me.'

Raquib picked Wajeed up and stood him in front of him. 'Hey, you were supposed to join this circle!' 'You just told me to go somewhere, so I entered the first circle I saw,' Wajeed replied. 'By the way, do we just have to keep walking?' 'Yes, until you are completely exhausted.'

​'But what is this light between us?' Wajeed asked, pointing to the center. 'People say that these lights are what keep this Void illuminated—and us alive. If we stop walking, these lights will lose their charge, and everything will be swallowed by darkness.'

​'Good grief... then we can't ever stop,' Wajeed whispered. 'Exactly,' Raquib replied.

Wajeed had been walking for a long time, and his legs were starting to give out. He began looking around frantically. 'Hey, what’s wrong?' Raquib asked. 'Where’s the clock?' 'Clock?' 'Yes, I need to see the time!' 'What is that?' 'Time! I need to see what hour it is!' 'I don't know anything about that,' Raquib replied blankly. 'What? Is there no concept of time here? What year is it?' 'Year?' 'Oh God, you don't even know what a year is! You’re not the strange one—all of you are strange!' Wajeed shouted and slumped to the ground.

​Immediately, the others in the line started yelling, 'Hey! Get him up! We have to keep moving!' 'Get up, we'll go to eat in a little while,' Raquib urged. Wajeed stood up and began walking slowly again. His eyes fell on a group of people heading somewhere else. Far beyond the countless white circles, a different light was visible—not white like the rest, but a distinct Golden Light.

​'Why are those people going that way?' Wajeed asked. 'There are some who believe there’s another world over there, but it’s all nonsense,' Raquib said. 'If it’s nonsense, where do they go? Thousands head toward that light, but barely one succeeds. The rest come back in shame. But because they tried to betray the light for their own selfishness, no one lets them back into the circles. They just sit on the sidelines, useless.'

​'That’s incredibly risky,' Wajeed remarked. 'Yes, it is. First, succeeding is nearly impossible, and even if you do... no one knows what’s on the other side. It could be a trap.'

Finally, when everyone was exhausted from working, they began heading into a small, narrow lane to the left of the Void. 'Is this where we get food?' Wajeed asked. 'Yes,' Raquib replied. Inside, Wajeed saw rows of tables with chairs on both sides. People were taking their seats as several girls carrying utensils began placing them on the tables and serving food.

​'You sit here,' Raquib told Wajeed. 'I’m heading further up. I’ll see you back at work.' 'Honestly, Uncle... I can see you're heading up there just to be near that lady!' Wajeed teased, but Raquib didn't listen and walked away. Wajeed sat down in his chair, but when he looked to his side, he saw Adil sitting right there.

Wajeed immediately averted his gaze toward his plate. Adil, sitting next to him, snapped, 'At least wash your hands!' Wajeed asked hesitantly, 'From where?' Adil pointed toward a basin at the corner of the hallway. Wajeed washed his hands, returned, and said 'Thanks.'

​As the food was served, a girl began placing portions in everyone’s plates. Her eyes met Wajeed’s, and he gave her a small smile. This did not sit well with Adil at all. 'The thing I hate most is this flirtatious behavior,' Adil growled, landing a hard slap across Wajeed’s face. Wajeed stood up, fuming, 'What the hell is your problem?!'

​But a boy sitting to Wajeed’s right intervened, separating them and pulling Wajeed to his other side. Adil finished his meal quickly and stomped back to the Void. 'What is wrong with him?' Wajeed asked. 'I heard that girl rejected him, so he’s probably just bitter,' the boy replied. 'By the way, who are you?' 'My name is Sajid.'

​The two began talking, and Wajeed asked, 'Where does the food even come from?' Sajid explained, 'There are two Voids—one for men and one for women. In between is this hallway where everyone eats. The men’s job is to keep the light alive, and the women’s job is to provide the food.' 'But how?' 'That... even I don’t know.'

Sajid and Wajeed were sitting on Sajid’s bed. 'So, everyone is going to sleep now?' Wajeed asked. 'Yes,' Sajid replied. 'And tomorrow we wake up and do it all over again.' 'Yes, but I won’t do it,' Sajid said firmly. 'Then what will you do?' 'When that light appears again tomorrow, I will move toward it.'

​'But I’ve heard the consequences are terrible for those who don’t make it,' Wajeed warned. 'Their beds are taken away. They aren't allowed to sit on chairs to eat—they have to eat off the floor. And worst of all, when you have nothing to do and no one talks to you, you slowly start losing your mind,' Sajid explained. 'Do you still want to go?' 'Yes.'

​'But the risk is massive.' 'I’m ready to take it. Because I believe there is a real world on the other side. I’ve seen it in my dreams—men and women living together, people wearing colorful clothes, doing all kinds of work. Here, we are just like machines.' 'You saw those dreams too?' Wajeed asked. 'Did those dreams come to you as well?' 'Yes, while I was in a deep sleep before being born.' 'These dreams aren't useless; many people here have them, but only a few have the courage to try for the other side. And even fewer actually make it.'

​'Why does that happen?' Wajeed asked. 'Some people stop others from leaving. And if you get past them, those who returned say there is a wall. Some pass right through it, but others can't.' 'An invisible wall?' 'Not invisible,' Sajid corrected. 'Those who aren't meant to pass will see the wall clearly. But for those who can, the wall doesn't even exist—they just walk right through. To those left behind, it looks like the person just walked through solid matter. So... will you move forward tomorrow?' 'Yes.'

​Sajid had completely made up his mind. And on the other hand, Wajeed headed toward his bed, thinking—when the chances are so slim and the risks so many, why even move forward at all?

The next day, as everyone was circling their respective lights again, Wajeed’s eyes began searching for Sajid. 'What’s wrong?' Raquib asked. 'Sajid...' Just then, Sajid appeared. 'Come, Sajid! Get in line in front of Wajeed,' Raquib called out.

​'I won't be joining the line anymore,' Sajid said firmly. 'So, you've made up your mind. I won't stop you anymore,' Raquib replied. 'Yes, I am moving forward. Goodbye to all of you.'

​'People say "goodbye" when they aren't going to meet again. You’ll be back in a few minutes, sitting over there on the floor!' Adil mocked, stepping out of the circle. Everyone stopped to watch. 'I won't be coming back. Just watch—I am going toward my dream,' Sajid said, walking away without looking back. 'Go on then! And bring some of that "dream" back for us too!' Adil shouted, and everyone burst into laughter.

​Wajeed and the others went back to work. But as the day passed, Wajeed began to feel a strange emptiness inside. The next day, while they were working, a voice suddenly echoed through the air: 'SAJID.'

​'What was that? Whose voice was that, and why is it calling Sajid’s name?' Wajeed asked, stunned. 'I can't believe it... out of all these people, Sajid actually crossed that wall,' Raquib whispered. 'What?' 'Yes... when someone successfully crosses that wall, their name or number is announced to everyone.'

​'That means... it is possible to reach the other side!' Wajeed exclaimed. 'Don't even think about it,' Raquib warned. 'Just because Sajid made it doesn't mean you will too.'

On the other hand, hearing that name made Adil freeze. He remembered how he, too, had once abandoned his food and run toward that light—but the wall had appeared before him. 'How did this happen? I knew him for years... he did what I couldn't,' he whispered to himself.

​Everyone began heading toward the dining hall again. 'I thought our constant revolving was necessary to keep these lights burning, but they keep glowing even when we leave,' Wajeed remarked. 'Yes,' Raquib replied. 'Our movement charges them enough to last for a few days even if we stop. But we still can't take a break. It doesn't take long for one day to turn into two, then three... if we sit back and relax, we'll lose momentum. That’s why we wake up and get back to work without a single complaint.'

Everyone returned to their seats, and this time Raquib sat next to Wajeed, with Adil on his left. The girls sat across from them, and the meal began. 'Hey, what’s your name?' the girl sitting opposite asked Wajeed. 'I don’t have a name. My number is 7,' he replied. 'Oh, I don’t have one either,' she said softly. Raquib smiled seeing this interaction, but on the other side, Adil’s blood was boiling.

​Once dinner ended and everyone returned to the Void, Adil cornered Wajeed. 'You trying to show off in front of me?' 'What did I even do?' 'Stay away from that girl. Understand?' 'But she was the one who spoke to me!' 'Stay away, or I won't let you off easy,' Adil spat before heading to his bed.

​That night, Wajeed couldn't stop tossing and turning. He could hear the sound of a car engine... someone was talking to him... and in his dream, he was screaming, 'Don’t go inside!' He jolted awake and sat up on his bed. 'What kind of dream was that?' he whispered, trembling, and started heading toward Raquib.

'What happened? Why did you wake me up?' Raquib said, sitting up on his bed. 'I had that dream again.' 'I told you, that’s all nonsense. Go back to sleep.' 'No, I’m going. Right now.' 'Are you crazy? Even the Golden Light isn't visible yet!' 'That’s exactly why it’s the right time. If I go now, no one will stop me, and I can reach there faster.'

​'That might be true, but if you see the wall, your life will be ruined.' 'What life do I even have left to ruin? You eat, you sleep, you have us to talk to—what else do you need? I even think that girl likes you. You want to leave all that for a dream with no proof?' 'I don’t know if what I saw is real, but I still want to go. I believe I can make it.'

​'Trying is useless, you don’t understand,' Raquib sighed. 'Uncle, didn't you ever feel like seeing what’s on the other side? Didn't you ever have a dream?' 'I don't know if it was real, but...' 'But what?' 'I used to have dreams, but they were very strange. I had a pregnant wife who passed away. When we went to bury her, we realized the baby was still alive inside. I spent the rest of my life with my son.'

​'So you have a family too! Then why don't you come with me?' 'I don't have the same level of faith as you. But... if I hear your name being announced, I will definitely think about it.' 'Then perhaps this is the last time we meet.' 'Yes, perhaps. Goodbye, child. We may never meet again.' 'Goodbye,' Wajeed said, and began walking toward the direction where the light usually appeared.

Adil was lying on his bed, but his eyes were wide open. 'So, he wants to leave too,' Adil muttered to himself. After walking for a long time, Wajeed noticed that people were starting to wake up and reform their circles. Some were just standing there, staring at him. 'You can't even tell day from night in this place,' Wajeed remarked. Suddenly, he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. He turned around and saw a boy. 'Hi! Are you heading toward the light too?' 'Yes, are you?' 'Yeah. Did you have a dream?' 'No, not really. It’s just that this place is incredibly boring, so I want to get out.' 'Oh.'

​As they were talking, a group of men surrounded Wajeed. 'I heard you don't respect your seniors.' 'Who are you? Why are you stopping us?' 'Oh boy, I'm out of here!' the boy who was with Wajeed shouted and ran ahead. They let him go, and Wajeed realized these men weren't there to block the path—they were there for him. One of them grabbed Wajeed’s shoulder. 'You're too eager, aren't you? You came here on your feet, but you'll crawl back.'

​'Look, let me go. I haven't done anything to you,' Wajeed pleaded. 'Let him go!' a voice shouted from behind. Wajeed turned to see a group of elderly men standing there. 'Wajeed, keep moving! We are Raquib’s friends. He asked us to get you safely to the tunnel.' Wajeed’s eyes welled up with tears. 'These men were sent here to stop and beat you.' Wajeed immediately understood—this was Adil’s doing. The old men charged at the thugs, and one of them yelled, 'Run, Wajeed! Run!' Hearing this, Wajeed began to sprint with every ounce of strength he had left.

Wajeed’s legs were trembling and his breath was ragged, but he kept sprinting without looking back until he reached the end of the tunnel. There, he found the boy from earlier sitting on the ground. 'It’s no use,' the boy muttered. 'There’s a wall standing here.'

​Wajeed looked up, but all he saw was the vast, open sky and the blinding brilliance of the sun shining down on him. 'I don’t see any wall,' Wajeed said. 'Listen, next time, come prepared with a strong will.' With those words, he stepped forward. The boy on the ground watched in absolute shock as Wajeed simply walked through what looked like solid matter to him and vanished.

​Finally, Wajeed stepped out. He felt the rush of the wind, heard the chirping of birds, and the scent of damp earth and grass filled his nostrils. 'So... it wasn't a dream,' he whispered. Suddenly, a voice echoed from within him: Wajeed... Wajeed... Wajeed.

​'That’s my name. Yes, Wajeed... I remember now!' He turned around, but there was no tunnel behind him. His mind, which had been numb, was suddenly flooded with memories. He remembered passing through this very road... his dad was driving, and he was lying in the back seat. They saw a strange tunnel in the middle of the road. His father stepped out and, despite Wajeed’s pleas to stop, walked inside. When he didn't return, Wajeed followed him in.

​But the most important realization hit him like a lightning bolt, and tears streamed down his face. 'My dad’s name was Raquib.'

On the other side in the Void, that name echoes, hearing which Raquib’s friends and Adil’s men stop fighting. 'So, in the end, that boy did cross the wall,' one of Raquib’s friends says. 'There’s no point in fighting now,' Adil’s men remark.

​Upon hearing this name, Adil’s heart begins to race, and he collapses right there on the ground. 'He... he crossed it too,' he mutters to himself. He covers his face with his hands and begins to sob uncontrollably, 'What was wrong with me that I couldn't get out of here?'

​And Raquib, hearing the name, feels a mix of inner joy and restlessness. 'You have ignited a spark of hope within me too, child. We will surely meet again.'

When Wajeed opened his eyes, he saw a bald man with a long white beard standing before him. The man’s eyes were barely open, and even his eyebrows were stark white. Wajeed sat up abruptly, 'Where am I?

​'This place is called the Void,' the old man replied. Wajeed looked around; everything was white as far as the eye could see. People were formed into different circles, revolving around a central white light. 'What is this place? How did I get here?'

​'People here don't call it "coming," they call it being "born,"' the old man said. 'Born? But I'm not a child,' Wajeed countered. 'People are born here at different ages. Look at me—when I was born here, I was even older than you.'

But if that's the case, where are my parents?" Wajeed asked. "Parents?" "Yes, my mother and father!" "What mother and father?" "The ones who bring us into this world! Uncle, do I really have to explain this to you in detail?" "I don't know what kind of dream you were having, but that doesn't happen here. Look at those beds spread out everywhere—a light flashes, and people appear on those beds in a deep sleep. When they are woken up, they don't ask any questions. But I've heard that there are some people, like you, who talk in such nonsensical ways.

​'Is this some kind of joke? Am I dead?' Wajeed asked, trembling. 'No, if you were dead, you would have simply vanished.' 'Fine... then who are you?' 'My name is Raquib. And yours?' Wajeed’s eyes darted around, his brow furrowing in confusion. 'Take it easy, child. Not everyone knows their name when they’re born here. They discover it later.'

​'How?' Wajeed asked quickly. 'Think of it as an inner voice. Some people never find their name their entire lives.' 'Then how do you talk to each other?' 'We are given numbers. Mine used to be 7.'

​'So what do I do now? I don’t understand anything.' 'Do what everyone else does. Join any circle and start revolving around the light.' 'But what will that achieve? Can't I do anything else?' 'No. There is no other work here. Men wake up, eat, circle the light, eat again when tired, and go to sleep.'

​'I never thought I’d have to do all this right after being born. This sounds incredibly boring,' Wajeed complained. 'It’s not like that. Once you get used to it, it’ll feel right.' Just then, Raquib’s wristwatch began to ring. 'Hey, hurry up! My job today was to gather the newborns and explain the work. Now, get to it. I’m heading to my circle.'

Wajeed stood up and began to wander. People were revolving in different circles, each with its own light. Wajeed approached one of the circles. 'Can I join this too?' he asked, but no one paid him any attention; they just kept moving forward.

​Wajeed spotted a small gap and tried to squeeze in, but the person behind him shoved him out instantly. 'How dare you get in front of me, huh?!'

​Wajeed fell to the ground. The man who pushed him began to slowly walk toward him, but suddenly Raquib stepped in. 'Let it go, Adil. He was just born.'

​Adil looked at Wajeed and then at Raquib. 'Fine... but make sure you tell him about me.'

Raquib picked Wajeed up and stood him in front of him. 'Hey, you were supposed to join this circle!' 'You just told me to go somewhere, so I entered the first circle I saw,' Wajeed replied. 'By the way, do we just have to keep walking?' 'Yes, until you are completely exhausted.'

​'But what is this light between us?' Wajeed asked, pointing to the center. 'People say that these lights are what keep this Void illuminated—and us alive. If we stop walking, these lights will lose their charge, and everything will be swallowed by darkness.'

​'Good grief... then we can't ever stop,' Wajeed whispered. 'Exactly,' Raquib replied.

Wajeed had been walking for a long time, and his legs were starting to give out. He began looking around frantically. 'Hey, what’s wrong?' Raquib asked. 'Where’s the clock?' 'Clock?' 'Yes, I need to see the time!' 'What is that?' 'Time! I need to see what hour it is!' 'I don't know anything about that,' Raquib replied blankly. 'What? Is there no concept of time here? What year is it?' 'Year?' 'Oh God, you don't even know what a year is! You’re not the strange one—all of you are strange!' Wajeed shouted and slumped to the ground.

​Immediately, the others in the line started yelling, 'Hey! Get him up! We have to keep moving!' 'Get up, we'll go to eat in a little while,' Raquib urged. Wajeed stood up and began walking slowly again. His eyes fell on a group of people heading somewhere else. Far beyond the countless white circles, a different light was visible—not white like the rest, but a distinct Golden Light.

​'Why are those people going that way?' Wajeed asked. 'There are some who believe there’s another world over there, but it’s all nonsense,' Raquib said. 'If it’s nonsense, where do they go? Thousands head toward that light, but barely one succeeds. The rest come back in shame. But because they tried to betray the light for their own selfishness, no one lets them back into the circles. They just sit on the sidelines, useless.'

​'That’s incredibly risky,' Wajeed remarked. 'Yes, it is. First, succeeding is nearly impossible, and even if you do... no one knows what’s on the other side. It could be a trap.'

Finally, when everyone was exhausted from working, they began heading into a small, narrow lane to the left of the Void. 'Is this where we get food?' Wajeed asked. 'Yes,' Raquib replied. Inside, Wajeed saw rows of tables with chairs on both sides. People were taking their seats as several girls carrying utensils began placing them on the tables and serving food.

​'You sit here,' Raquib told Wajeed. 'I’m heading further up. I’ll see you back at work.' 'Honestly, Uncle... I can see you're heading up there just to be near that lady!' Wajeed teased, but Raquib didn't listen and walked away. Wajeed sat down in his chair, but when he looked to his side, he saw Adil sitting right there.

Wajeed immediately averted his gaze toward his plate. Adil, sitting next to him, snapped, 'At least wash your hands!' Wajeed asked hesitantly, 'From where?' Adil pointed toward a basin at the corner of the hallway. Wajeed washed his hands, returned, and said 'Thanks.'

​As the food was served, a girl began placing portions in everyone’s plates. Her eyes met Wajeed’s, and he gave her a small smile. This did not sit well with Adil at all. 'The thing I hate most is this flirtatious behavior,' Adil growled, landing a hard slap across Wajeed’s face. Wajeed stood up, fuming, 'What the hell is your problem?!'

​But a boy sitting to Wajeed’s right intervened, separating them and pulling Wajeed to his other side. Adil finished his meal quickly and stomped back to the Void. 'What is wrong with him?' Wajeed asked. 'I heard that girl rejected him, so he’s probably just bitter,' the boy replied. 'By the way, who are you?' 'My name is Sajid.'

​The two began talking, and Wajeed asked, 'Where does the food even come from?' Sajid explained, 'There are two Voids—one for men and one for women. In between is this hallway where everyone eats. The men’s job is to keep the light alive, and the women’s job is to provide the food.' 'But how?' 'That... even I don’t know.'

Sajid and Wajeed were sitting on Sajid’s bed. 'So, everyone is going to sleep now?' Wajeed asked. 'Yes,' Sajid replied. 'And tomorrow we wake up and do it all over again.' 'Yes, but I won’t do it,' Sajid said firmly. 'Then what will you do?' 'When that light appears again tomorrow, I will move toward it.'

​'But I’ve heard the consequences are terrible for those who don’t make it,' Wajeed warned. 'Their beds are taken away. They aren't allowed to sit on chairs to eat—they have to eat off the floor. And worst of all, when you have nothing to do and no one talks to you, you slowly start losing your mind,' Sajid explained. 'Do you still want to go?' 'Yes.'

​'But the risk is massive.' 'I’m ready to take it. Because I believe there is a real world on the other side. I’ve seen it in my dreams—men and women living together, people wearing colorful clothes, doing all kinds of work. Here, we are just like machines.' 'You saw those dreams too?' Wajeed asked. 'Did those dreams come to you as well?' 'Yes, while I was in a deep sleep before being born.' 'These dreams aren't useless; many people here have them, but only a few have the courage to try for the other side. And even fewer actually make it.'

​'Why does that happen?' Wajeed asked. 'Some people stop others from leaving. And if you get past them, those who returned say there is a wall. Some pass right through it, but others can't.' 'An invisible wall?' 'Not invisible,' Sajid corrected. 'Those who aren't meant to pass will see the wall clearly. But for those who can, the wall doesn't even exist—they just walk right through. To those left behind, it looks like the person just walked through solid matter. So... will you move forward tomorrow?' 'Yes.'

​Sajid had completely made up his mind. And on the other hand, Wajeed headed toward his bed, thinking—when the chances are so slim and the risks so many, why even move forward at all?

The next day, as everyone was circling their respective lights again, Wajeed’s eyes began searching for Sajid. 'What’s wrong?' Raquib asked. 'Sajid...' Just then, Sajid appeared. 'Come, Sajid! Get in line in front of Wajeed,' Raquib called out.

​'I won't be joining the line anymore,' Sajid said firmly. 'So, you've made up your mind. I won't stop you anymore,' Raquib replied. 'Yes, I am moving forward. Goodbye to all of you.'

​'People say "goodbye" when they aren't going to meet again. You’ll be back in a few minutes, sitting over there on the floor!' Adil mocked, stepping out of the circle. Everyone stopped to watch. 'I won't be coming back. Just watch—I am going toward my dream,' Sajid said, walking away without looking back. 'Go on then! And bring some of that "dream" back for us too!' Adil shouted, and everyone burst into laughter.

​Wajeed and the others went back to work. But as the day passed, Wajeed began to feel a strange emptiness inside. The next day, while they were working, a voice suddenly echoed through the air: 'SAJID.'

​'What was that? Whose voice was that, and why is it calling Sajid’s name?' Wajeed asked, stunned. 'I can't believe it... out of all these people, Sajid actually crossed that wall,' Raquib whispered. 'What?' 'Yes... when someone successfully crosses that wall, their name or number is announced to everyone.'

​'That means... it is possible to reach the other side!' Wajeed exclaimed. 'Don't even think about it,' Raquib warned. 'Just because Sajid made it doesn't mean you will too.'

On the other hand, hearing that name made Adil freeze. He remembered how he, too, had once abandoned his food and run toward that light—but the wall had appeared before him. 'How did this happen? I knew him for years... he did what I couldn't,' he whispered to himself.

​Everyone began heading toward the dining hall again. 'I thought our constant revolving was necessary to keep these lights burning, but they keep glowing even when we leave,' Wajeed remarked. 'Yes,' Raquib replied. 'Our movement charges them enough to last for a few days even if we stop. But we still can't take a break. It doesn't take long for one day to turn into two, then three... if we sit back and relax, we'll lose momentum. That’s why we wake up and get back to work without a single complaint.'

Everyone returned to their seats, and this time Raquib sat next to Wajeed, with Adil on his left. The girls sat across from them, and the meal began. 'Hey, what’s your name?' the girl sitting opposite asked Wajeed. 'I don’t have a name. My number is 7,' he replied. 'Oh, I don’t have one either,' she said softly. Raquib smiled seeing this interaction, but on the other side, Adil’s blood was boiling.

​Once dinner ended and everyone returned to the Void, Adil cornered Wajeed. 'You trying to show off in front of me?' 'What did I even do?' 'Stay away from that girl. Understand?' 'But she was the one who spoke to me!' 'Stay away, or I won't let you off easy,' Adil spat before heading to his bed.

​That night, Wajeed couldn't stop tossing and turning. He could hear the sound of a car engine... someone was talking to him... and in his dream, he was screaming, 'Don’t go inside!' He jolted awake and sat up on his bed. 'What kind of dream was that?' he whispered, trembling, and started heading toward Raquib.

'What happened? Why did you wake me up?' Raquib said, sitting up on his bed. 'I had that dream again.' 'I told you, that’s all nonsense. Go back to sleep.' 'No, I’m going. Right now.' 'Are you crazy? Even the Golden Light isn't visible yet!' 'That’s exactly why it’s the right time. If I go now, no one will stop me, and I can reach there faster.'

​'That might be true, but if you see the wall, your life will be ruined.' 'What life do I even have left to ruin? You eat, you sleep, you have us to talk to—what else do you need? I even think that girl likes you. You want to leave all that for a dream with no proof?' 'I don’t know if what I saw is real, but I still want to go. I believe I can make it.'

​'Trying is useless, you don’t understand,' Raquib sighed. 'Uncle, didn't you ever feel like seeing what’s on the other side? Didn't you ever have a dream?' 'I don't know if it was real, but...' 'But what?' 'I used to have dreams, but they were very strange. I had a pregnant wife who passed away. When we went to bury her, we realized the baby was still alive inside. I spent the rest of my life with my son.'

​'So you have a family too! Then why don't you come with me?' 'I don't have the same level of faith as you. But... if I hear your name being announced, I will definitely think about it.' 'Then perhaps this is the last time we meet.' 'Yes, perhaps. Goodbye, child. We may never meet again.' 'Goodbye,' Wajeed said, and began walking toward the direction where the light usually appeared.

Adil was lying on his bed, but his eyes were wide open. 'So, he wants to leave too,' Adil muttered to himself. After walking for a long time, Wajeed noticed that people were starting to wake up and reform their circles. Some were just standing there, staring at him. 'You can't even tell day from night in this place,' Wajeed remarked. Suddenly, he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. He turned around and saw a boy. 'Hi! Are you heading toward the light too?' 'Yes, are you?' 'Yeah. Did you have a dream?' 'No, not really. It’s just that this place is incredibly boring, so I want to get out.' 'Oh.'

​As they were talking, a group of men surrounded Wajeed. 'I heard you don't respect your seniors.' 'Who are you? Why are you stopping us?' 'Oh boy, I'm out of here!' the boy who was with Wajeed shouted and ran ahead. They let him go, and Wajeed realized these men weren't there to block the path—they were there for him. One of them grabbed Wajeed’s shoulder. 'You're too eager, aren't you? You came here on your feet, but you'll crawl back.'

​'Look, let me go. I haven't done anything to you,' Wajeed pleaded. 'Let him go!' a voice shouted from behind. Wajeed turned to see a group of elderly men standing there. 'Wajeed, keep moving! We are Raquib’s friends. He asked us to get you safely to the tunnel.' Wajeed’s eyes welled up with tears. 'These men were sent here to stop and beat you.' Wajeed immediately understood—this was Adil’s doing. The old men charged at the thugs, and one of them yelled, 'Run, Wajeed! Run!' Hearing this, Wajeed began to sprint with every ounce of strength he had left.

Wajeed’s legs were trembling and his breath was ragged, but he kept sprinting without looking back until he reached the end of the tunnel. There, he found the boy from earlier sitting on the ground. 'It’s no use,' the boy muttered. 'There’s a wall standing here.'

​Wajeed looked up, but all he saw was the vast, open sky and the blinding brilliance of the sun shining down on him. 'I don’t see any wall,' Wajeed said. 'Listen, next time, come prepared with a strong will.' With those words, he stepped forward. The boy on the ground watched in absolute shock as Wajeed simply walked through what looked like solid matter to him and vanished.

​Finally, Wajeed stepped out. He felt the rush of the wind, heard the chirping of birds, and the scent of damp earth and grass filled his nostrils. 'So... it wasn't a dream,' he whispered. Suddenly, a voice echoed from within him: Wajeed... Wajeed... Wajeed.

​'That’s my name. Yes, Wajeed... I remember now!' He turned around, but there was no tunnel behind him. His mind, which had been numb, was suddenly flooded with memories. He remembered passing through this very road... his dad was driving, and he was lying in the back seat. They saw a strange tunnel in the middle of the road. His father stepped out and, despite Wajeed’s pleas to stop, walked inside. When he didn't return, Wajeed followed him in.

​But the most important realization hit him like a lightning bolt, and tears streamed down his face. 'My dad’s name was Raquib.'

On the other side in the Void, that name echoes, hearing which Raquib’s friends and Adil’s men stop fighting. 'So, in the end, that boy did cross the wall,' one of Raquib’s friends says. 'There’s no point in fighting now,' Adil’s men remark.

​Upon hearing this name, Adil’s heart begins to race, and he collapses right there on the ground. 'He... he crossed it too,' he mutters to himself. He covers his face with his hands and begins to sob uncontrollably, 'What was wrong with me that I couldn't get out of here?'

​And Raquib, hearing the name, feels a mix of inner joy and restlessness. 'You have ignited a spark of hope within me too, child. We will surely meet again.'

It used to air on Sonic, and I watched it a lot during my childhood. I really loved his outfit, and I thought his sister was so cute back then. The show was very simple and fun, and it looked so colorful. I also really love its Hindi opening and especially the ending song and also does anyone know the singer's name?

It used to air on Sonic, and I watched it a lot during my childhood. I really loved his outfit, and I thought his sister was so cute back then. The show was very simple and fun, and it looked so colorful. I also really love its Hindi opening and especially the ending song and also does anyone know the singer's name?

The sun hadn't even fully risen when someone started knocking on the gate. Saying 'I’m coming,' Wadeed walked toward the door. 'Yes, brother?' 'I've come for the trash, sir.' 'Oh, okay. I thought someone came asking for money—where we used to live, many beggars used to come.' Wadeed went to get the trash and handed it over to the garbage collector.

​A little later, there was another knock. When he opened the door this time, a woman was standing there with her hand outstretched. Wadeed took out some money and placed it in her hand. 'I don't want this, sir. Give me something to eat.' 'Well, take the money and buy some food with it.' 'No, we don't take money; people misunderstand us.' 'Okay, that’s quite different,' Wadeed thought. He went to his mom, who was busy in the kitchen. 'Mom, there’s a woman outside asking for food.' 'So, a beggar?' 'Not exactly a beggar, Mom, or maybe she is... but give her something to eat.' 'Wait.' His mom opened the fridge, took out some leftover Biryani, and handed it to Wadeed. 'Give her this.' 'But this is Biryani—my favorite! If it’s still good, I’ll eat it. You give her something else.' 'No, don't eat it, you’ll fall sick.' 'If I’ll fall sick, so will she.' 'No, these people are used to it.' 'Fine, then.' Wadeed reluctantly handed the stale Biryani to the woman. 'Thank you.' 'Hmm, okay,' Wadeed said half-heartedly.

It was evening, and Wadeed was lying in his room, running his grandfather’s old fan, when his father returned from work. 'Wadeed, you brought this fan here too? I told you to leave it behind when we were shifting.' 'Sorry, Dad, but I thought it was still in good condition. I felt it would be a waste to buy a new one, so I might as well bring this.' 'I told you, people of class live in this society. We are new here, we’ll have new neighbors, and just imagine—the house is so big and grand, if someone visits and sees this ancient fan, what will they think?' 'I am sorry, Dad.' 'Don't say sorry; throw it out tonight.'

​Wadeed couldn't say anything. When his dad went to shower, he went to his mom. 'Dad is telling me to throw away Grandpa’s fan.' 'Well, it is old now. You have an AC and a ceiling fan in your room, what do you need it for?' 'It doesn't feel right, Mom. I’ve sat with Grandpa and enjoyed the breeze from this fan while watching TV. When guests used to come, we’d put it near the sofa, and it would put even an AC to shame. And now he’s asking to throw it away.' 'Then sell it; you keep the money.' 'Who would buy such a fan, Mom?' 'See? You also know it’s outdated.' 'That doesn't mean it’s useless.' 'Then give it to someone.' 'Hmm, I guess that’s all I can do. Just convince Dad to let it stay here for a few days until I find someone.' 'Okay.'

The next day, when the garbage collector came, Wadeed asked him about the fan. 'No sir, we don't take these things; these items come to us on their own.' Wadeed didn't quite understand, but he said 'okay' and closed the door. Then that woman came again. She stretched out her hand, and Wadeed's mom handed her stale food again. 'This smells really bad,' Wadeed noted. 'They won't care. Do you want me to cook fresh meals for them every day? She won't take money, and you can't even tell her to move along.' 'Fine, fine, I’ll give it to her.' While handing it over, Wadeed asked her about the fan. 'We already have these things; they keep walking to us all the time,' she replied. Wadeed was confused and closed the gate, thinking even these poor people have so many tantrums.

​Night fell, and his dad noticed the fan again. 'I told you to throw this away!' 'I asked Mom, and she said to give it to someone.' 'Who would take this?!' he yelled. Wadeed stayed silent. His mom entered the room, 'Why are you shouting?' 'I told him to throw it out, no one will take it, but he’s still clinging to it.' 'I’ll talk to him, you go.' After his dad left, his mom explained, 'Son, just throw it away. Whoever needs it will pick it up. The garbage collector will take it himself.' After much convincing, Wadeed carried it on his shoulder to the roadside dump. 'So many memories are tied to you, but I can't keep you forever. Just as we made memories and you stayed by us, I want you to be with someone else now.'

​As he reached the dump, there was the usual smell, but he saw other items there too—TVs, washing machines, fridges, etc. 'What is this? These look perfectly fine. Why are people throwing them away?' He checked them and found they were all warm. 'Why is everything so warm in this cold weather?' Wadeed wondered. He said goodbye to the fan and returned home. But lying in bed, he felt terrible. He stared at the ceiling fan—it didn't make that rhythmic 'whoosh' sound like the old one, like a helicopter landing. His hair didn't even flutter. 'Ugh!'

Even after a few days, Wadeed missed his fan every time he went to sleep. 'I shouldn't have thrown it away. What if someone picked it up, broke it, and sold it for scrap? No, I must find it. I’ll keep it hidden until I need it in the future.' The next day, when the garbage collector came, Wadeed asked him, 'Do you pick up the trash that collects on the roadside?' 'Yes.' 'I saw people throwing away really good things there that still work. You must be selling those, right?' 'No, I don't even touch them. They disappear on their own before sunrise.' 'What? How is that possible?' 'It seems you are unaware of the legend—that objects have souls.' Wadeed handed over the trash and shut the gate. 'What nonsense,' he thought.

​He decided that tonight, he would find out for himself. It was midnight; once everyone in the house was asleep, he quietly headed toward the road. He stood far enough from the dump so he could just barely see it. The wind was cold, a few people were on the street, and some dogs were barking. Gradually, as the people left and the dogs stopped barking, Wadeed’s drooping eyes snapped open. He saw something shining near the trash. He moved a bit closer and saw that all the discarded items were glowing with a white light. 'What is this?' Wadeed whispered, his gaze fixed.

​Then, it happened—legs and arms sprouted from those TVs, fridges, and cupboards. They all quickly began moving in a single file. The ground slipped from beneath Wadeed’s feet; he was drenched in sweat. 'Wherever they are going, my fan must be there too,' he muttered, and began following them.

They moved through deserted paths and fields toward an old log house with its door wide open, as if it were waiting for them. Wadeed arrived there, panting. As soon as all the objects entered the house, someone shut the door—it was the garbage collector. Wadeed immediately rushed to the house and knocked on the gate. When the man opened the door, he was shocked for a moment. 'You lied to me!' Wadeed yelled. 'Shh... I didn't lie. Please, come inside.'

​Inside, the man made him sit down. That woman was there too. 'She’s with you too?' Wadeed asked. 'She is my wife. Look, sir, the work I do barely feeds me, let alone my family.' Wadeed listened, his eyes scanning the room. 'How is that table fan running? It's not even connected to a circuit!' 'Yes, these things that walk toward us run on their own throughout the night, but they stop as soon as morning comes.' 'What?' Wadeed gasped. 'Is this magic?' 'No, we are clueless ourselves. Ever since the beginning, whatever items people throw away eventually walk toward us.' 'Then why didn't you tell anyone?' 'What would we say? People would think we're liars or accuse us of theft,' the woman explained.

​Wadeed went silent for a moment. 'By now, you must have collected so much stuff.' Suddenly, a loud noise erupted. Wadeed ran to the window and saw more items heading their way. The garbage collector opened the door and sat back down next to Wadeed. 'These are items we had given to some people. When people make false excuses of poverty to take these things, the objects walk back to us on their own. But when people are truthful, the objects work normally.' Wadeed was still struggling to process this. 'Never mind that... I had a green table fan that I threw in the trash. Did you give it to anyone?' 'Come with me.' The man led Wadeed toward another room that was locked from the outside. Wadeed could hear the familiar sound of his fan. 'That’s my fan!' 'Yes.' The man opened the door. The fan was running near a wooden cot (chauki) where two children were lying. 'What happened to them?' Wadeed asked.

These are our children. They’ve been unwell for a few days, and today they even started vomiting. This fan is providing them some relief. We have a cooler, but we’d have to fill it with buckets of water, which requires pumping the hand-pump. I’m out all day working, and she is also constantly coming and going, so the children wouldn't be able to run the cooler themselves. But this fan—if you turn it on once, it runs all day long.'

​'Hmm, I understand. I’m sorry for everything I said earlier because of this fan. Anyway, they need it more than I do.' Wadeed took some money out of his pocket and placed it in the woman’s hand. 'I think I know what’s wrong with them; please take them to a doctor. And from now on, just take money from me, not food.' Saying this, Wadeed walked out. Wadeed felt ashamed that he had been giving them stale food all these days; somewhere deep down, he was holding himself responsible for their condition.