One sunny morning in a cosy little village, six-year-old Mariyam has just woken up from sleep by listening to chirping noises. As soon as she saw what was waiting for her, she started bouncing with joy. Her grandma had just returned from the market carrying a small, chirping basket. When Mariyam peeked inside, her eyes lit up like stars—inside were six tiny chicks, each dyed in bright colours: pink, white, yellow, green, orange and pink again ( her favourite colour in the whole wide world).
“They’re for you, Mariyam,” her grandma smiled. “To play and take care of.”
Mariyam squealed with delight. She was a bit scared to touch but she gently picked up the pink chick first and kept it on her lap and gave it a soft head massage like she had seen her grandma do with their cat. The chick closed its eyes and chirped quietly, already trusting her. She sat on the floor, letting the other chicks explore her lap, their little feet tickling her legs as they hopped around.
Soon, Mariyam had a clever idea. She slipped the pink chick carefully into the big front pocket of her frock – which had pink flowers printed on it.
“You’re coming on a ride with me,” she whispered with a giggle, and ran outside to her bicycle.
As she rolled her little pink bicycle out onto the patio, her five best friends—Aysha, Fathima, Mu’mina, Haiza, and Izzah—came running over. They were all her neighbours and always joined her for playtime. Their eyes widened when they saw the colourful chicks.
“Wow!” Mu’mi gasped. “Where did you get them?”
“My grandma bought them for me!” Mariyam said proudly. “Want to play?”
The girls gathered in a circle, giggling and taking turns petting the chicks. The yellow one kept chasing Fathima’s finger, and the green one tried to perch on Aysha’s shoe. Laughter filled the air as they made little leaf hats for the chicks and even gave them silly names—like Cupcake, Princess, Fifi and the list goes on and on .
After a while, Mariyam hopped back on her bike with the pink chick still tucked in her frock pocket.
“Hold tight!” she told it, and began pedalling slowly down the path with the other girls running beside her, cheering and cycling.
It was the happiest day Mariyam could remember—sunshine, friends, a bicycle ride, and a pocket full of fluff and joy.
That night, as she tucked the chicks into a cozy little basket with soft cloth and tiny drops of water in a bottle cap, Mariyam whispered, “Thank you, Grandma. They’re the best friends ever.”
And the chicks chirped sleepily in agreement.
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