Stoked.

Sipping a cup of hot coffee, I sat on a table, right next to the door in McDonald’s. It was raining heavily and the air conditioning on my wet clothes, hair and socks was making my nose runny. I wrapped my palms around the cup, sucking all its warmth. I sipped on, clocking the commotion outside. Amidst the muddle, a little boy, less than a year old caught my eye.

He crawled away as a girl, around 14 years old carried him back again and again to a tree under which stood a small crowd. The way she looked at him protectively and firmly told him to stay put , I guessed he was her little brother.

She wore a worn, old, red top with a dirty green skirt. Her curly hair was tied clumsily into a knot, falling all over her face. Broken slippers barely protected her feet. She looked at her brother with exasperation as he crawled into the muddy puddle again. I laughed as she scooped him up and brought him under the tree again, though it wasn’t of any use. He was already wet, from crawling in the puddle and she was too, from bringing him back for the hundredth time.
The few people standing there, who weren’t busy with their phones, watched these two kids quaintly; some, with interest, some with distaste. I wondered why the little boy wouldn’t listen to his sister. He crawled out again and this time, the sister did not bring him back. She just looked at him warily and let him crawl in the mud.

The little boy was having fun. He laughed as he splashed around, much to the annoyance of the drove. I smiled as I saw the sister keeping a watchful eye on her little brother. She looked responsible and matured. Her impecuniosity had perhaps shaped her older than her age.
The little boy, though wasn’t aware of any such thing. He was an innocent kid, without a clue of the hardships of his family. His little blue pants were all wet and he looked really happy as he sat in the mud and sloshed his teeny fingers in the mire.

He stopped abruptly for a second and then did something that, judging from her expression, his sister hadn’t expected. I watched with wonder as the little boy tried to stand up. He slowly got onto one knee, and then the next and tried to stand up. He couldn’t though. He fell down, head first into the plash. I was concerned for a moment until he sat back, his face now all muddy. He looked at his sister and then, laughed. She smiled with relief and I don’t know why, but so did I.

He tried again, fell again, tried again and fell again but this little boy, I knew, wasn’t going to stop till he’d stand up, all on his own. Finally, after loads of endeavours, he stood up on his little feet. He shifted his feet as he tried to balance himself but tumbled over again. This time, he didn’t laugh. With renewed confidence, now that he had stood up once, he got up again but couldn’t stand for more than a few seconds. After a couple of more attempts, he finally stood up, steady. He looked proud of himself and so did his sister. I felt glad but that wasn’t all that day had for me.

As his sister smiled at him, he tried to take a step ahead. Anticipation replaced her smile in a fleet of time but her little brother did not disappoint her. He took his first step, towards her and then his second. Slowly he walked over to her. She beamed with joy and the melancholy in her eyes, too old for her age vanished. She jumped around, clapping, encouraging her brother.

I was overjoyed. I knew I had nothing to do with the two kids but I had seen someone’s first steps. I was euphoric. Someone’s first steps! That was intimidating. The joy and pride in the sister’s eyes, the sense of accomplishment in the little boy’s who had just taken his first steps left me in awe. 

And there, sitting in a McDonald’s, sipping a cup of hot coffee, cold, with rain pouring outside I had seen something I’ll never forget. I was stoked.