By Aamnah Arshad Zainab Sultan
Stepping out of the car, I was greeted by a burst of cheerful music spilling out on the street. The vibrant flags and flapping banners made it all too clear that a festival was being held. I entered the hum of sights, sounds and scents grabbing for my attention.
There were stalls set up displaying all kinds of handmade items, including crocheted squishy plush toys, beaded jewellery in all colours of the rainbow, gleaming porcelain vases, satin scarves flowing like waterfalls, breezy t-shirts with neon graphics stamped across the front, organic hand soaps and so many more fascinating items.
The area was jam-packed with people milling around, browsing the displays, sitting on benches, basking in the balmy sunlight while a lazy breeze drifted along. Children were huddled around a clown, 鈥榦ohhing鈥 as he juggled bright plastic balls. Mouth-watering aromas wafted in the air from sizzling beef burgers to freshly-baked cookies and fresh coffee, all making my mouth water.
A sudden ominous rumble sent all eyes flicking upwards. Swollen rain clouds had gathered out of the blue, fringed with grey. The air turned heavy and moist. A fat raindrop landed on my cheek promptly, followed by another and another. There was a spell of silence before utter chaos descended.
Panicked shrieks filled the air as people shoved each other to reach cover. A man knocked my elbow, sending the tender tortilla wrap in my hand to the ground, where it was promptly trampled on. I hurried under a canopy and watched the scene unfold. Children were shrieking as their parents dragged them towards the exit. A poster ripped itself free and was carried along by the wind, slapping into people鈥檚 faces. Vendors were tripping over themselves to stuff their articles into bags and boxes and cover their edibles before the rain, which was now pouring down in torrents, spoiled them.
A woman screamed as somebody was shoved into her stall display, sending an entire rack of hand embroidered shirts into the squishy mud. A young artist yelled for help as she tried to pack up her paintings, but they were way too many for her to do it alone and she broke out into tears as the rain soaked into delicate watercolour drawings, the images turning into smudges of colour. Nobody paused to help them, rather everyone was concerned about finding shelter themselves.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the downpour towards the nearest table where an elderly couple who had set up a stall of delicious baked goods were scrambling to salvage as many things as they could. But the rain was unrelenting, destroying the delicately iced cupcakes. Grabbing the items, I started stuffing them into plastic boxes, braced against the rain which lashed against my body, immediately soaking me.
I would probably catch a cold, but at this moment the right thing to do was to help to these people. I had been enjoying all the entertainment they had been providing so it was wrong to desert them when things turned tough. Finishing up, I earned thankful smiles before quickly moving on to the next display. I was joined by another person who started helping the vendors too and as I looked around, more and more people were assisting others, despite the rain.
My heart swelled and I remembered a saying I had heard a long time ago, 鈥淎 good deed is like a pile of dominoes, do one and it starts a chain reaction.鈥
Published in Dawn, Young World, July 5th, 2025