📚 Bayaan Café | Tape #21
Tagline:
“Sometimes holding someone’s hesitation becomes their very first flight.”
The third Saturday morning.
The rain had stopped,
but the scent of wet earth still lingered in the air.
Raindrops clung to the windowpanes
like tiny pearls.
Inside the café,
there was a different kind of warmth today—
as if every corner was waiting
for a new story to take birth.
Nilofar lifted the lid off the pot of coffee simmering on the stove.
The aroma spread through the room.
Zaria sat in her usual “blue notebook” corner,
twirling a pencil —
she had chosen yellow and light orange today
to color Mahira’s sun.
Ayaan stood near his sketch,
gazing at the Stop Wall.
Many small pieces of paper were now pasted on it.
Each paper held someone’s story.
Mahira’s first paper was still at the very top.
The door opened.
Mahira walked in.
There was a bit more courage in her steps today.
Her feet were wet,
her hair slightly damp,
but her face had a new kind of glow.
She walked straight to the Stop Wall.
For a few moments,
she quietly stared at her own paper.
Then she softly asked:
“Today… can I read someone else’s paper?”
Zaria nodded,
“Of course. This wall belongs to everyone.”
Mahira picked a paper.
It said:
“Sometimes I feel like even in the middle of everyone… I’m nowhere.”
She gently placed it back.
Her eyes turned slightly moist.
Nilofar stepped beside her,
resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“See?
Hesitation doesn’t come only to you.
Many people pause.
The only difference is…
no one pauses alone here.”
That day, Mahira put up a new paper of her own.
It said:
“For the first time, I looked at my hesitation… and smiled.”
Ayaan sketched that very moment —
a little girl
pasting a sun on the wall.
Afternoon began to fade.
Inside the café,
soft conversations and calmness spread.
Mahira wasn’t silent today.
She had begun playing with colors.
Zaria showed her how to hold a paintbrush,
and Ayaan said,
“Your silence has started speaking in colors now.”
Suddenly, Mahira asked Zaria:
“Can I… tell my story?”
Zaria smiled gently:
“Only if you want to.”
Mahira took a deep breath.
Then slowly began…
“My mom says
when I first started talking,
I laughed a lot.
But then dad left…
and it was like sound stopped living in our house.
Everyone became quiet.
So did I.
I had friends at school,
but I felt like
if I said something…
people would leave too.
So… I stopped talking altogether.
I’m just scared…
what if someone listens
and still leaves?”
Listening to her, Zaria’s eyes welled up.
Nilofar gently caressed Mahira’s hair.
“No one will leave, Mahira.
Not here.
No one walks away from anyone here.”
At that moment,
a new kind of trust filled the air of Bayaan Café.
For the first time,
Mahira was able to tell someone everything.
And on her face bloomed
a soft, honest smile.
While leaving in the evening,
Mahira said to Ayaan:
“Next time…
I’ll bring my mom too.
Maybe she also needs to pause a little less.”
That night, Zaria wrote in her blue notebook:
*“Sometimes a child’s tiny bit of courage
changes the silence of an entire home.
Today, Bayaan Café witnessed…
that when someone speaks despite fear,
their voice isn’t just a story —
it becomes a prayer.”*
📚 Bayaan Café | Tape #21 (End)
Tagline:
“Sometimes holding someone’s hesitation becomes their very first flight.”
📚 Bayaan Café | Tape #22
Tagline:
“Sometimes the most unheard story… speaks from your own wall.”
That Saturday morning,
Bayaan Café felt a little different.
The sunlight was clear,
no sign of rain,
and the air carried a soft chill.
Nilofar opened the windows,
Zaria turned a new page in her blue notebook,
and Ayaan stood near the Stop Wall
with his sketchbook.
Today the café was empty.
No new visitor had arrived.
Nilofar said,
“Strange, isn’t it?
No one came today.”
Zaria smiled,
“Maybe today…
the café wants to speak to us.”
All three of them looked at the Stop Wall.
Every paper pasted there
held someone’s hesitation —
some had just two or three words,
some had entire stories.
Today they decided
that without inviting anyone,
they would simply read those papers —
and listen to what the silence inside them was saying.
Ayaan picked the first paper.
A small yellow one.
It said:
“I know how to laugh…
but I forget the moment I reach home.”
Nilofar’s eyes filled with tears.
Zaria whispered,
“Sometimes… a tiny paper
says an entire story.”
The second paper said:
“I feel invisible.
Among everyone… yet unseen.”
Ayaan’s fingers paused on the paper.
“Reading this…
feels like maybe I’ve felt this way too.”
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The third paper said:
“I wish one day someone would come to my door and say —
‘Come on, let’s just go out today.’”
Nilofar touched the paper softly.
“Some wishes are so small…
but when they don’t come true,
they can give the biggest loneliness.”
Zaria slowly spread all the papers on the table.
There were around twenty small notes.
Then she said:
“Today… we will give each paper a voice.
No names.
No faces.
Just each paper… and its story.”
Nilofar read the first one.
Ayaan read the second.
Zaria read the third.
And like that,
a quiet little gathering began inside the café.
Someone’s hesitation,
someone’s fear,
someone’s loneliness…
all were speaking through the papers.
Gradually, all three realized
that the café hadn’t just changed the visitors —
it had changed them too.
Nilofar said,
“These walls have heard more
than we have heard ourselves.”
Suddenly, Ayaan closed his sketchbook,
and pasted a big blank paper
right in the middle of the Stop Wall.
On it he wrote:
“Today the café told us —
we all live inside each other’s stories.
Whatever you cannot say…
we will still listen.”
Zaria whispered,
“Today someone turned the café itself
into a story.”
Evening began to fall.
Lights outside slowly lit up.
Inside, the three sat quietly.
They weren’t waiting for anyone.
Because today…
the silence of the walls
was the biggest guest of all.
That night, Zaria wrote in her blue notebook:
“Sometimes, to hear others…
we must pause inside ourselves first.
And today…
Bayaan Café taught us that.”
📚 Bayaan Café | Tape #22 (End)
Tagline:
“Sometimes the most unheard story… speaks from your own wall.”
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