How deceptive is a mirror?
Inspite of being clearer.
As whenever you look in it,
It admires; you're incredibly fit.
This reflector always creates confusions,
And you're caught prey of its delusions.
Oh man! Yes you a well dressed poor man,
Considering yourself as beautiful as a nymph with fan.
Oh poor man! Beware of it's feat,
It is nothing but a cheat.
And you search your reality in it, oh the man in blue,
It is just a reflection, not the real you.
You'll realize yourself as clear as never before.
"The Mirror and The Reality
By
Saba pervaiz
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It was an apartment complex in front of which his car stopped. A few moments later, a man covering his face with black mask, wearing Black suit emerged from his passenger seat.
The dark hair was scattered on the forehead due to which his eyes were also hidden. Asking the driver to wait for further order, he entered building.
While entering the lift, he pressed the button of desired floor. In a few minutes the elevator stopped with a 'ding' sound.
Once its doors opened, he got out and turned to the right. He stopped in front of a flat and looked at the number plate. It was flat number 902. He raised his hand and rang the bell. some time, he heard the rattling, and the sound of the door being unlocked. It creaked open.
An old-aged man was standing in front of him. He was almost in his sixties. He had gray hair. His face was wrinkled, eyes covered with specs.
He greeted this person with smiling eyes. Bowing a little, he entered when the man made way for him. The door closed behind them with a beep.
"¤¤¤¤¤¤¤"
It was a small flat. Two rooms, one bedroom, open kitchen, a bathroom and a small terrace. There was a dining table on one side of the kitchen. The TV lounge was also small with one double seater and one single seater. There is a large shelf of books.
There were thick books of psychology.
Hisham had taken off his mask. He removed his shoes at door and put them on the shoe rack by there.
There were rugs and carpets on the floor. Therefore, he went ahead and sat on the single couch, following the instructions of the man.
He was his psychiatrist that he was visiting for many years. He was residing in London after being retired a few years back. So, Hisham used to visit by himself.
The old man brought him a water bottle from the freezer in the kitchen and placed it on the table in front of him and sat on a double seater. Hisham's eyes were fixed on the droplets of water slithering down the water bottle.
"Have you had your dinner?" He said politely. Hisham replied with a stern nod.
"How's been your days?" The man old man asked him, concerned.
"Restless, haunting, most the time." He replied, attention still on plastic bottle, he picked it up, uncapped it and took a few sips.
"Have you been taking your meds."
"Yeah, taking an extra dosage of tranquilizer, since a week." He told honestly putting the bottle back. That man's face contorted with worry.
"Those are sedatives Hisham, they have side effects too." He interjected.
"What do I do" He asked leaning back on the couch. "I am tired, I can't sleep without being disturbed by nightmares. So, I've to take'em." He said squeezing his eyes shut, and rubbing his forehead-throbbing-due to stress.
"You should visit your family." His eyes opened. He was startled at his words.
"Yes, Hisham! You should visit your home. It's been a long time. Family is the strongest healer. Family is the biggest support system in the times of struggle. You should go for them. Tell them your sufferings. I'm sure they will support you. They love you as much as no one can ever."
"I can't. I can't face them. Those.....those memories.....those words.... are carved in my head, I can't brush it aside." He was really broken down.
The old man was being thoughtfulness observing his condition.
"I'll give you an injection. You should sleep a little. But you've to think about going to them. I'm sure you'll be at peace. Come along with me. " He left his seat, stating that and approached his room.
He called his driver to go without him and then went after him where he faded behind the door. He changed in some comfy clothes provided by the doctor. Then doctor gave him a shot and asked him to lay down in his bed for a nap.
Soon, he was dozing off. Old man covered him with a comforter and left the room sighing. He was going to spend the night in his lounge studying and discussing his condition with some other doctors.
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He was pacing back and forth in his room. No one had talked to him about what happened the day before. They were giving him silent treatment. He was being frustrated. Thinking hard, he decided to talk to his father.
He knocked his bedroom's door.
"Come in." It was her mother. He entered. She was busy folding clothes and making her closet.
"Ma! Where is Dad?" He asked hesitantly.
"Huh! Oh, he's bathing." She smiled at him.
"Oh!!!" He piped down.
"You've to say something" she asked obliviously.
"Yeah, it's okay I'll wait for him." He tried to laugh but fizzled up. As he was about to turn his back to go out, by then the door to the bathroom opened and his father came out, toweling his hair dry.
He stopped there.
"Why's he here?" His father asked dryly. Her mother muttered some response that he was unable to hear.
"I've got to say something to you."
"If you're going to behave as you did the day before, there is the door to get out." Uncle said earnestly and took seat on the bed. Mother left the room.
He sat down placing his hand on his father's knees.
"Dad, I was already stressed that day, I'm sorry, you had to see me in most vulnerable state. You do know I've been trying to get scholarship for a long time. You didn't say anything about the matter but when I finally decided to get up on my own, y'all started to make excuses." He was saying in a low voice.
"You should have told me by that time when I started to have that dream. You should've put it to an end by then. I wouldn't have came so far. Now backing off is like strangling myself with my own hands."
"Father, it's my dream university. I've seen myself wandering in it's corridors. I promise, I'll be back as soon as my degree is completed. Please lemme fulfill my dream. Please. I'm your son. I wouldn't let you down." He was pleading. Uncle's stern expressions were fading away slowly as he was listening to him.
By then they heard a loud bang with screams. Both forgetting their conversation, ran out the room.
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Families are like a rosary. Its beads are the members of a family that are woven together with a thread of love and affection.
There is a loop at one point of this circular object and the two ends are passed through a bigger, decorative bead where they are tied into a knot. That bigger decorative bead is the head of the family who binds his family together. That bead is the Father.
A family is a greatest blessing even if it has imperfections.
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A/N:
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