I was a stranger in that city too. Though I had made good terms with everybody there, I still felt as if they didn’t know me, and neither did I. The family I was staying with had never had an encounter with me before, but I had seen them in my dream earlier. The evening turned into night, and the lamps were lit. We had our dinner and a sort of a gathering, where we praised ourselves and blamed others. In the middle of the house, a small girl came and laid out my bed. There were stars shining in my heart and the moon glowing in my eyes. If I could, I would have snuffed out the light, because I like the darkness. I was brought up in the darkness and drank the bitter water of realities. I can’t get along with the lights, I was talking to myself when I heard something. The little girl was standing beside me. I wanted to ask her to come and sit with me, so I could share my secrets with her, but in the meantime she had turned back. And then, I could not see her. I could not sleep that night and kept rolling in my bed the entire time. I was a traveler. Nobody shares secrets with travelers. But my heart didn’t accept this fact, and I happened to ask her for an eternal keepsake. She gazed into my eyes and went away. When she came back, she was carrying eyeglasses. She placed them on my eyes and sat facing towards me. My feelings went through quite a change after that. I felt as if I was sitting in front of my little daughter. This is the English translated version of a Balochi short story written by AR Dad. Ali Jan Maqsood teaches at DELTA Academy, Turbat and studies at Atta Shad Degree College, Turbat Published in Daily Times, January 28th 2018.