BARBERSHOP TALES...2 (THE FAMILIAR STRANGER)

After we were done listening to United's short but disturbing narrative, we exchanged glances. Our concerns were similar, and they were visible on our faces.

We became telepathic; identical thoughts were flowing through our heads, and similar words were attempting to escape our mouths.

Despite this, no one said anything. Without words, the obligation of who was to speak was being passed to the next person. The charade went on till it eventually fell on me. I tilted my head to my left and saw no one seated beside me. I was the last person, that is, if you were counting from my right. Still, with no words, I was unanimously chosen as the speaker.

I swallowed my saliva and began speaking in the calmest tone I could muster.

"Can you tell us where your father is?"

"I don't know who he is, and I've never been told anything about him."
An earthquake was occurring in his vocal cords, so it seemed. His voice was even shakier than it was when he first spoke.

He barely finished his statement when I added, "How about your mother?"

"I barely remember her. According to what I've heard, she died when I was only two years old."

At this point, everyone chorused, "Then who are you staying with?"

"With my aunt." Replied United

My thoughts about United were no longer hazy. The image was crystal clear.

I visualized his aunt, a poor young woman, taking an adorable, innocent-looking kid of two into her harbor. Clearly, she was inheriting a responsibility she wasn't prepared for, but she'd yet bear the cross, out of sympathy for the poor lad.

I could see her going the whole nine yards to fend for herself as well as see to the boy's growth. Now that the boy is grown, she has exhausted her strength. There's no possibility of a university education for the boy, nor is there money for him to acquire a skill.

So the boy would sleep at his aunt's crowded one-room apartment at night, where he watched the windows for a ray of light that would indicate the breaking of the dawn. When morning came, having little to do, he'd hop onto the street in search of jolly fellows. There were a lot of them at our barbershop. He'll stop by to chat, laugh, and eat any edibles purchased by any of us. When night came, he'd return to his cave, where he'd have to wait again for the rays of light to bring him back to life.

I felt nothing but pity for United and his aunt.

While picturing United's ordeals, my head was bowed. That's my usual posture when I'm deeply thinking. But don't be deceived; here, my head was not only bowed for thoughts, it was also in an attempt to hide my moisty eyes.

I managed to raise my head while searching for my voice. I peered into United's dovey eyes and said, "You have to see those men." I paused to be sure that I was heard.
Yes, he heard me. They all did. All eyes were now on me.

Seeing that they were fighting hard to make sense of what I just said, I continued speaking, still gazing at United.

"Not to worry. They'll return if they have vital information about your dad. When they do, try not to freak out like you did today. You'll have to sit with them at a spot where we can sight you. Ask them about your dad. Who knows, you might be lucky to discover your ancestry."

Everyone relaxed their gaze. They all agreed with me.

We continued with our normal duty in the shop, but at the back of our minds, we couldn't wait for the next day. We were hoping to be a part of a story whose kind we've only seen in movies.

Would they return? Are they related to United Dad's? Why did it take them so long to show up? How did they even know that he'd be there? "

Those were the thoughts that were running through our minds as we were going through our normal duties. If you're having similar thoughts too, you'd have to anticipate the next series.

To be continued........

The image is a picture of mine taken with my phone in a barbershop.