Begging for Love, a very short story.

Abandoned by unknown parents, Bilal, a young beggar in Meknes city sat leaning against a masjid in the hope of gaining plenty of money to feed himself. Day after day, Bilal turned to begging as his sole job and livelihood.

Though his stomach was usually full, Bilal still felt a hungry void somewhere inside his body. This curious hunger often provoked him to remember the story of his old but lasting destitution. Yet, all that he could recall was a vast confusion of noise, ghosts, and foggy images about a father and a mother, quarrelling. “What was my sin?” Bilal complained.

That question which he asked himself dissolved Bilal into tears. They had etched two parallel rivers of misery down his round cheeks upon which some fresh scars appeared to represent all sorts of hardship and deprivation. “He had nowhere to live and no one to live with. He is a branch of a broken tree thrown away into nowhere,” said a group of old men sitting side by side with their backs against the wall of the masjid.

One Friday, Bilal went out as usual to earn his lunch and dinner. A boy like him was born not to live, but to struggle for survival. He walked to the masjid 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 masjid. He couldn’t utter a word; however, his little miserable face was enough to tear people’s eyes and move their hearts and pockets. Though the boy came back with his pockets full of coins, he still couldn’t feel happy; the void somewhere in his body still and urgently called for nurture- but not any normal nurture.

On the road to Sidi Bouzekri where he would spend the night, Bilal’s attention was caught by a pretty girl standing next to Zitoun High School. Suddenly, He felt as if a beam of light shone into his heart and turned into a wide warm smile on his face. He couldn’t resist it, or perhaps he didn’t wish to, for it is the return of lost hope that makes one feel well. “The hunger of heart is worse than the hunger of stomach,” I realize.

One Saturday, Bilal sat in front of the school door waiting for the girl as usual.
At twelve o’clock, 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 girl’s prettiness, traced her in the hope of talking to her. While on the road, the girl felt she was being chased.
- “Who’re you? Why are you chasing me?” asked the girl, roughly.
- “I’m Bilal. What’s your name?” said Bilal in a terrified tone.
- “What for?” replied she.
- “I just want to know,” said he.
- “I’m Hanan. Any more question?” replied Hanan vexedly.

At this moment, Bilal was rooted speechlessly to the spot with his heart broken. When she saw tears rolling down his cheeks, Hanan took out a white handkerchief and started wiping the tears from his face. Fortunately, this action eased Bilal’s discomfort and saved him from sure death.
“I’m so sorry, khuya. I was just kidding,” said Hanan passionately. “Come on with me!”

Together on the road, Hanan held Bilal’s dry hand and took him home. As a way of ensuring that he wasn’t a all hurt by the way she treated him, Hanan added, “I didn’t know you’re so sensitive, Khuya. Please forget about it!”

When they arrived home, Hanan rushed in and cheerfully brought a sack containing some fruits and vegetables, three loaves of bread, and some sugar.
“Take!” said she.

Surprisingly, Bilal’s eyes began filling with tears again.
- “What’s up?”Hanan wondered. “Why are you weeping?”
- “I’m here wishing to feed my heart, not my stomach,” said Bilal hopelessly and vanished in the wink of an eye.