Chapter 9 – Enemies and Friends..
The small bundles of newspaper had done more than put coins in Sanjay’s hands. They had put dignity back into his walk, light back into his eyes. Every morning he stood near the school gates, calling out with a strong, steady voice:
“Paper bundles! Neat, cheap, ready to use!”
Soon, children began recognizing him, even greeting him cheerfully. Some mothers stopped by too, thanking him for the savings. Each smile, each word of kindness stitched back the torn cloth of Sanjay’s confidence.
But in the bazaar, not everyone smiled.
Karim, the moustached shopkeeper who had once fooled Sanjay, watched with narrowed eyes. “First pens, now garbage paper,” he muttered. “And still this boy dares to stand tall? He’ll ruin real shopkeepers like us. No… I won’t let him.”
He began whispering to other vendors, spreading poison. “This boy undercuts us. He cheats. His bundles are filthy. Don’t buy from him.”
Some shopkeepers listened. Some even confronted Sanjay. “You’re stealing customers with your cheap tricks!” one of them snapped.
Sanjay stood firm. “I sell what people need, at a price they can afford. That’s not cheating. That’s serving.”
The man spat on the ground and walked away. But the words spread like smoke. Enemies were forming.
Yet where shadows grew, light also appeared.
One afternoon, a woman in a faded green shawl approached his small stand. She was holding the hand of a little girl with braids.
“You are Sanjay, aren’t you?” the woman asked gently.
“Yes, madam,” he said, bowing his head slightly.
“My daughter’s teacher told me about you. Honest boy, hard-working. We often throw old papers away… would you like to collect them from us?”
Sanjay’s chest tightened with gratitude. “Yes, madam. That would help me very much.”
The little girl tugged his sleeve. “Bhaiya, can you make a small bundle for me too? For drawing?”
He smiled and handed her a neatly tied stack. The girl beamed.
It was a small moment, but Sanjay felt his heart grow warmer than it had in months.
That evening, back home, he laid his earnings in front of his mother. She stared at the coins, her eyes moist.
“Every coin you bring now feels heavy, Sanjay. Not heavy with shame like before, but heavy with respect.”
Meera, sitting nearby with her notebook, added softly, “Bhai, your story is changing. The boy who wanted the sky is finally climbing.”
Her words made him laugh for the first time in weeks.
But fate had more tests prepared.
One night, as he packed up his bundles, a group of boys blocked his path. Older, rough-looking, with hungry eyes.
“Oi, paper boy,” one sneered. “You think you’re some big businessman now?”
Sanjay froze. “I am just selling honestly.”
“Honestly?” another mocked, snatching one of the bundles. He tore it apart, scattering papers into the mud. “That’s honesty?”
The boys laughed and pushed him roughly. Sanjay stumbled, his bundle falling from his arms.
For a moment, anger rose like fire. But then he remembered his mother’s words: Respect is heavier than shame.
He picked up the scattered papers silently, tied them again, and stood tall. His silence unsettled the bullies. One spat, then muttered, “Let’s go.”
As they walked away, a voice called from behind.
“Don’t worry, Sanjay. I saw everything.”
It was the woman in the green shawl again, standing with her daughter. “This town will know who you are—not because of their lies, but because of your patience.”
Her words became another stone in the foundation of his resolve.
Weeks passed, and with each passing day, Sanjay built not just a small trade, but a reputation. People began saying, “The paper boy is honest. The paper boy works hard.”
And one day, a new face appeared.
A girl about his age, with sharp eyes and a basket of flowers in her hands. She stood watching him call out to the schoolchildren.
“Why do you shout so loudly?” she asked with a teasing smile.
Sanjay blinked. “Because otherwise no one will notice me.”
“They notice you already,” she replied, glancing at the children laughing around his bundles. “You don’t need to shout so much.”
She handed him a flower from her basket. “For your stand. It looks too plain.”
Before he could respond, she walked away, leaving only the faint fragrance of jasmine behind.
Sanjay stared at the flower for a long time, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He did not even know her name. But he knew one thing—his life was slowly changing, in ways he had never imagined.
Enemies were forming. Friends were appearing. And somewhere between the two, hope was turning into something solid.
Sanjay was no longer just surviving. He was beginning to live.
End of Chapter 9 ✨
