A COLD night in November.
Jamal wrapped his arms around his small body for warmth as he stared out his tarp shelter at the dimly lit street. The lone street light reflected in the huge puddles and the drunk in the corner was singing a medley of songs.

“My life,” he thought, deep sadness in his eyes, “So wretched.”
From a two-year-old child, since his young mother had left him he had been bounced from one family home to the next. But the love and care his young heart craved for he could not find in those homes.

“Why does no one love me?” he often asked of God, “Why can’t I live in one home with love and kind words?”
He became sad and lonely and at eight when he was sent again to another family, an uncle who was often drunk, he felt he had had enough and he ran away.
No one came looking for him and the street became his home. He spoke to God often and as his eyes closed in sleep, he prayed, “Please God, no one wants me. Can you send someone who can show me love and care and give me a warm home?”

He had survived each day for the past two years, doing menial jobs for little money or a meal, and often he would stop by the store windows looking longingly at the nice clothes and boots, bikes and toys. One of the things he discovered he loved was reading, since an old lady, he had done some gardening for had given him some books. So nights in the spring and summer he would sit under the street lamp reading.

One mid-week day when the city streets were not that busy, he stopped by an electronics store, looking in awe at the latest remote car, the sales clerk was trying out for a customer. The store lady saw him and looking at him sternly she said harshly, “Move from here!”
“I like the car,” Jamal said, a light in his eyes.

The lady smiled and asked, a mocking tone in her voice, “Do you want to buy it?”
He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes and walked away. Block after block he walked until his legs were tired and he slumped down in a corner of the pavement, his head bent down in his folded arms. After a long while, he got slowly to his feet and looked around. He was in an exclusive business community he had never been in before. The people going about their business were definitely rich given the luxury vehicles they were driving.

“Definitely not my end of the city,” Jamal said and as he turned to walk back, he saw a gleaming white Tundra pull up at the ‘Classic Style’ boutique close by and a stunningly beautiful woman stepped out.
For the poor little boy, she was like a dream and he walked slowly to the store she had gone in.
The security guard looked at him with scorn and said, “You can’t bother anyone here.”

Jamal stepped back a short way, waiting until she came out and he ran up to her,
“Ma’am,”
She turned and looked at the little urchin boy and smiled. No one had ever smiled at him in such a sweet way and it touched his heart.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He nodded but before he could say anything, the security guard stepped in,
“I’m sorry ma’am, that he’s bothering you.”
“No, he’s not,” she said in a kind tone, “He’s just a poor child.”

She gave him money that could buy food for a week and he told the homeless in his corner, “I saw an angel today.”
“Yeah, we all do sometimes,” they said in unbelieving slurring tones.

From then he went by the store often, not for the money, but to see her and hear the mellow tone in her voice. She was the owner of the boutique, always nice and kind to him. Her husband though, tall with a heavy voice, always looked at him crossly and Jamal likened him to the bad guys in the movies.
The street was still his home but in December the rains came with heavy flooding of several parts of the city’s streets, so he found an abandoned house in a lonely neighbourhood and crept in to spend the night.

It was late when low, deep voices woke him up. The voices were getting closer and Jamal huddled in the darkest corner of the dimly lit room as the door was pushed open. He saw four armed, masked men leading a hooded figure – a woman, whom they pushed down in a chair. She screamed but the sounds were muffled and she squirmed, but heavy hands held her firmly. Then one of them pulled the hood off her head and Jamal almost screamed in shock.
It was the beautiful lady from the boutique!

A gun was placed to her head and a heavy voice said, “Your husband caused me to lose millions on a bad deal, so now he will pay more to get you back.”
“And s-suppose he doesn’t ha-have the money?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Then you die,” the man said in a deadly, cold voice.

The call was made to her husband and he was given two hours to deliver the ransom. The men left the room, closing the door. She was in shock and Jamal could see she was crying. He crept out of the dark corner quietly and on seeing him, she gasped. He put his finger to his lips and began untying her hands.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a low tone.
“A shelter for the night from the rain.”

“I have to get away from here,” she said, fear in her voice.
“The only way out is through the window,” he told her.
The abductors were still in the house, talking in low voices, so it was now or never through the window for the woman. She landed heavily in the thick scrubs of the garden, a sound Jamal hoped the men hadn’t heard. He made the jump easier and they moved quietly and cautiously to the gate, hidden by the overgrown plants in the yard.

One of the men was leaning casually on the veranda taking a smoke. They waited, holding their breath for him to go back inside when there was a sudden shout from in the house. The moment the man turned Jamal whispered to the woman with urgency, “Go now, go!”
She had just made it out when the abductors ran out of the house, realising she was gone. She couldn’t have gone far, so Jamal knew he had to make a distraction. He crept back to the back of the yard, pulling against the thick shrub to make noise. He heard shouts coming in his direction when two shots rang out and he felt a burning pain, knowing he was hit by a bullet. He fell down, gasping and they found him, swearing angrily,

“It’s just a homeless kid, the lady escaped, we gotta find her.”
The sound of their angry voices drifted farther and farther away as darkness overcame Jamal.
He opened his eyes slowly and saw bright lights shining around him.
“Did I die and go to Heaven?” he asked weakly.

Then coming, like an angel into his view was the beautiful woman who had been so kind to him. She smiled warmly and touched his hand,
“You did not die, you saved my life. You’re a very brave boy.”
She had managed to escape when a helpful driver had stopped to assist her and took her to the police station. The abductors had escaped by the time the police got to the abandoned house but found Jamal just in time.

Days later when the media interviewed Jamal about saving the businesswoman’s life, a question was asked,
“So what happens now to the boy given he’s a street urchin. Does he get sent to the orphanage?”
“No,” she said, smiling warmly at Jamal, “He’ll live in my home as part of my family.”

Tears welled in the young boy’s eyes, his heart was overjoyed.
God had answered his prayers and finally, he would have love, care and a warm home.