It'll be okay. It'll be okay. It'll be-
Namjeev had been repeating the same three words in his head for a while, stopping only when the stranger in his bed occasionally stirred.
He had passed out almost immediately after Namjeev saw him. If he had to be honest, Namjeev would be surprised if he didn't. He looked like he had walked through the end of the world.
Getting him to Namjeev's tent was a challenge. The traveller was heavier than he was and was also unconscious. Namjeev's bad foot added to the difficulty.
By the time he reached the tent, both he and the traveller were soaking wet.Â
But on the bright side, at least they were both alive. They would be by the end of the day, wouldnât they?
Namjeev had been staying in the desert ever since he was a kid, so he wasnât very worried about himself. The traveller on the other hand made him want to pull his hair out.
It would be so unfair if the boy (was he a boy? man?) died after Namjeev had endangered his life in order to bring him to the tent safely.Â
Namjeev hadnât stopped fussing with the stranger. Immediately after they had entered his tent, he laid the traveller down in his bed, then scrambled around looking for his medicines.
He cleaned the blood from the stranger's face, tended to the wound and dressed it. After that, he changed the traveller to cleaner, warmer clothes.
Namjeev started bouncing his knee. What if the ointments that he used on the stranger were inadequate? Besides, even if that worked, what if he fell sick from his time outside?
How long had he spent wandering before Namjeev found him? He had found him at dawn, so the traveller had definitely been lost in the desert at night.
Namjeev outwardly shivered from just thinking about how cold that might've been. He himself had been lost in the desert at night when he was younger, but was found by his father after what his mother told him had been six hours.
He had been eight years old then and was crumpled up in a ball when his father finally saw him. His eight year old self had tried to look for some firewood but failed to find any and ultimately decided to resort to body heat.
At present, Namjeev had forgotten the reason why he had stepped out anyway. It probably was to do something boyish and stupid.
What he didn't forget was the look in his mother's face when his father had brought him back to the tent. His mother had been stationed there, just to be safe, to check if their son would return anytime soon. Boys of his age wouldn't wander too far from their houses.
His mother had looked like the weight of the sun had been relieved of her. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her hair flew around wildly. Young Namjeev had assumed that she would then scold him, but she hugged and kissed him instead. Repeatedly.
"I'm sorry" he had said. "I'll never go outside like that again"
It was a heavy promise, but he meant it. He never wanted to relive the experience. The cold was so unbearable, it felt like it seeped into his bones.
"Why did you go outside?" Asked his mother.
At first Namjeev assumed that his mother was asking him that because she was overcome by emotion, but he later realised that she hadn't meant the question rhetorically.
"I don't know" he had answered. It was the safe answer.
"Did you go outside because you didn't want to stay here?" suggested his mother.
Namjeev considered it for a while.
He didn't give his mother an answer.
That night, Namjeev didn't sleep much and Neither did his parents.
He knew that as he heard them fighting until dawn. He supposed they weren't exactly fighting, but there was a lot of yelling and crying involved.
Namjeev told himself to focus on the injured traveller, he was what needed his attention, not a horrid old memory.
He was growing impatient. It had been a while since dawn. Outside of his tent, he couldn't see the sun behind the storm clouds and years of staying in the desert told him that even if the clouds miraculously disappeared, the sun wouldn't be staying for long.
Just as Namjeev lifted his hand to shake the traveller awake, he sat up straight and brought his hand to his head.
He didn't look around to inspect the tent or even glance at Namjeev, but his hands ceaselessly skimmed the bed, the canvas of the tent and everywhere else they could reach.
It was then that it occurred to Namjeev that the traveller was blind.
"Where am I?" He asked, his voice panicked.
Namjeev's heart grew heavy as he thought of telling the traveller that he was in the middle of nowhere.
tagging all who showed interest in this (lmk if you want to added or removed)
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