Saturday evening I came back from the market with 6 bags. 10 kg of rice, vegetables,
a melon. My arms were going numb by the time I reached the building lobby. The lift
was open. I started walking toward it and I could already see the doors starting to
close. I did the little shuffle people do, bags swinging, and a hand shot out from inside.
It was a boy, maybe 15, with a phone in the other hand. He didn't look up.
He just stood there with his foot against the door and said, which floor, uncle? I said
4. He pressed 4. Then he took 2 of the bags without asking and held them. The
lift went up and nobody said anything. His eyes were still on his phone screen. At the
4th floor he handed back the bags and I said thank you. He said, no problem. I
asked his name. He said Rayyan. I said, which flat? He said 2nd floor, and got out.
He wasn't even going to 4. He'd taken my floor, ridden up with me, and walked down.
2 flights of stairs, just to help an uncle with some rice. I
stood there for a moment. I told my daughter later and she said,
that's Rayyan from the 2nd floor, he's like that. Next day I left
a packet of biscuits at his door. The packet was gone by evening.
My daughter thinks I should've offered him something bigger, like a small cricket
bat. I'll think about it. He seems like a boy who'd prefer biscuits anyway.