𝙻𝚘𝚠 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

Chapter 4: Shining Mirror

I was a bit naughty during my childhood. Everyone would say, "A stick does not know how to sit still," and my mother would respond, "I don't have peace because of this child." It's not that I didn't try to be good. I sat with books and attempted to study, but only managed to read or write a page or two; then my mind would start tricking me away. Either I got sleepy or I couldn't stop thinking about what my friends were doing: Kamran's kite flying through the sky, Nishad and Gopal playing cricket in the field nearby, etc. I didn't know what was wrong with my mind.

We used to live in a very old house. The house had two floors, and it had a wide, stretchy balcony. The roof was huge. If you wanted, you could play football on the roof easily. There were two rooms side by side on the roof. Someone could stay there if they wanted a bit of privacy. One of the rooms was occupied by my sister and her toys. Her friends used to come and play with her in the evening. I used to come and disturb them sometimes. My sister used to tell her friends, "Look, the monkey boy arrives!" I would have loved it when she called me a monkey. She also enjoys it when I disturb her. Sometimes there used to be fierce fighting. My sister used to say, "See, when I disappear somewhere, you will understand. No one will be there to bring ice cream for you then."

However, every night there would be a fight at home, for sure. My father would come from the office and make me study. But my eyes will drop into sleep after jumping and running all day long.

I would simply make mistakes in mathematics, even if I knew the answer. I would enjoy making him pissed, then he would scold me, and he would get tired sooner and leave me alone. But then sometimes he would call my mother and say, "What are you doing all this afternoon? You can't even take care of a small child. He doesn't even know the easiest sum."

Then my mother would say, "Your angel, your son has done this; he has done that." And my father would walk up, saying, "No, nothing happened. Nothing will happen. To this failure." Although I never cared about these things, I'd still sit and pretend to study until my sister came and called me, "Qasim! Let's go now; it's dinner time." Some days, my sister had to feed me while I was sleeping on the table.

In this way, winter has arrived. Darjeeling used to get very cold and foggy during the winter. It's a small town in India's West Bengal state, in the Himalayan foothills.

It was about that time, on a winter night; everyone was sleeping after having dinner. I also slept next to my mother. My sister went to my uncle's house for a few days, so she was not here. Suddenly, a sound came from somewhere that woke me up. I was lying down and tried to close my eyes, but then my sleep was already gone. So, I got up and went to the next room, as my sister was not there. I took my football and started playing in her room. At first, I was doing everything carefully, but then I got very excited and kicked the ball hard. The ball went straight to the father's reading room and hit something on the cupboard. My mother got up and came running from the next room upon hearing something fall and brook. She saw me there and got very angry. She first came and slapped me.

By now, even my father has gotten up. He was standing in the hall and was giving me a dangerous look. Then my mother caught hold of my shirt collars and dragged me to the roof, locked me up, and imprisoned me in one of the rooms.

She told me, "Stay here, you little monkey. You will be released tomorrow if you behave. You have grown up a lot, so learn to fast now; you're not getting any food for breakfast in the morning."

Next day....

The sun was shining all around us from above the morning's blue sky. A whole lot of birds are flying around our house. I'm sitting on the edge of the window. I was feeling guilty, and I realised last night I made a mistake. I was asking myself, "When will I be a man?"

However, in the morning, no one came to release me. It was getting very hot, the sunlight was streaming into the room through the window, and there was a large mirror in the room. I don't know who bought this and why I never saw it before, but it was quite disturbing at the moment because it was reflecting the sun's light directly onto my face; there was no wind. I felt like I was in a pressure cooker. Not a single leaf on the tree is moving. I had nothing to do, and in the end, I was about to fall asleep.

Then someone put a hand on my shoulder. I sat up with a thud. That was my father. He was standing in front. I cowered in fear. I looked at my father's face. He was smiling. "Father! I'm not dreaming. Right!" I asked him in surprise. "Did you and mom forgive me? .... ummm... You didn't go to work today?" There was no answer. He was smiling, and only smiling. Then I said, "Father, I have broken something in your cupboard, right? I have done very wrong, father. I am so sorry." He was still smiling. There was no anger on his face. I then went to touch his feet to bow down, but shockingly, I saw that no one was there. The house was empty. The door was open. I only felt like something was reflected in the mirror. I got so scared. and questioned myself if it was a dream or what?

I don't know what happened, but slowly I crawled out of that room and went downstairs, carefully approaching my mother, who was in the kitchen preparing lunch. She was surprised to see me. She asked, "How did you come out? Who opened the door for you?" I told my mother everything. She asked, "Your father came? Where? Your father opened the door." I said, "Yes, mother, or else how could I get out of the room?" Mother looked panicked. She said my father left for work in the morning and asked me to search for him. My mother and I searched the entire house together, father's reading room, bedroom, roof, bathroom, everywhere.

But we couldn't find any trace of my father, so mother ran to get her phone, dialled his number, and tried to call him, but his phone was out of reach. When we couldn't find my father online, mom dialled his colleague's number, who answered the phone. He said that my father had gone to the company's new factory, which was under construction. My mother requested him to get some updates from the factory as my father's phone was out of reach. He said, "Okay, mam, I will call you back in a few minutes." So, my mother and I were sitting near the telephone. Lunch was already burning on the gas stove; I could smell something burning in the kitchen, but mother sat like a statue, not moving from her chair. The telephone was kept in front of her on a small table. Half an hour later, the phone rings.

My mother's eyes welled up and tears streamed down her cheeks, and the telephone fell from her hand as soon as she heard the news from my father's colleague that my father had been in an accident and he couldn't survive. His head was ripped off at the construction site by an iron rim crane. It was then 3:30 p.m.

I was such a fool that when I got the news, I said to my mother, "You know, mother, he wasn't angry at me that I broke his stuff. He forgave me. He was smiling at me just sometimes ago."

At that time, I was eight years old, and today I am 30. Since that day, I have never broken anything again. No glass, no relationship, no family, no life.
I have tried my best to remember my father's smile, and I only hope it never fades, even in the afterlife....
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~ Will see you in the next story ~