[Zakariya]
At dawn, when the dark curtains of the night overlapped with the hazy ones, I found myself sinking somewhere between the lines of silvery or I might rephrase it with the word of slavery.
The sleep of the past few nights has been kicking at the wrong hour and at present, I don't want to do anything but sleep off the exhaustion today's presentation had caused. As it goes amidst the lull of the red signal my brain shows in the direction of my fresh decision and a sweet sultry smile additionally with glittery heart eyes my heart displays, I find my weary eyes greedily locking up the time and turning back to my bed.
an hour of sleep won't harm anyone.
But how can I forget that time is a fucking bitch who always rebels against me; for once I want it to feel betrayed, seep into the sentiment of victory against the selfish specialty who dares to slip off between the space of fingers who requires it the most. I can't allow it to turn my hard work into ashes, so at that instant, I did what a sane person can do. Run.
"Excuse me, ma'am, "I rushed into the corridor where Mrs Desuza was having her celeb moment with other students due to the last day of the presentation, dishevelled and exasperated. I tried to recollect and reconnect all the valid reasons-cum-excuses in my mind to feed her, although, an ounce of doubt lingered at the back of my head that she was going to buy any of these.
"Bhool Jaa bhai," A muscular hand hung casually on one of my shoulders, reporting the current scenarios with a slight smirk hiding underneath his nicely trimmed moustache as if enjoying the pleading and begging of students to Mrs Desuza.
"She's a tough nut to crack." I retorted absent-mindedly, a deep regression held in my heart after backstabbing my brain in exchange for my beauty sleep. The irony.
"You just didn't say that, Zee. You kinky Lil-" A huge ass laugh bubbled from Priyansh who takes every statement into deep perception eventually drawing close to the sewage.
Priyanshu Kesharwani is known for his rough and tough persona, a gym freak basically. Been there with me since I accidentally puked all over him in our playgroup. He deserves every ick of it though.
"Are we up for another storytelling, Mr. Author?" Mrs Desuza addressed with a tinge of aggravation coating one of her neatly plucked brows, the bold smear of eyeliner caressed the stretched oily skin of the eyelids that do the major functioning of her countenance.
She knows. She knows what I am up to.
"I'll save the embarrassment for the writer's community by not counting my name in it; but then, as you can see Miss Ma'am, life automatically becomes interesting for the people who compose," I let out, my hands disclosing from the back pocket and ran across the jungle of my inky hairs. I should've trimmed them. The crowd in the corridor gradually dissipated mourning and hauling about the tasks the in charge had stored in the name of penalty.
"I'll fix my schedule to listen to your soppy philosophy for the other day. Right now, I want to know the reason behind the delay in submission." Exact, cut to the point.
" I was supposed to submit my writer's up for the inter-college book publications. " Lie, lie, lie.
I noticed how her lips pursued, the brochure on her dress slightly tilted while she was patting my shoulders, "I'll be the first to read your work in exchange for this delay," a threat beneath the good wishes and that's the moment I realised I fucked up.
Weird it's, how an organ without any bone or cartilage tends to fix or smash the situation in the blink of an eye regardless of the phrases uttered from it having the origin of frivolity and a hollow facade; as it goes between the reputation of our college for placing skills over rattafication education, she doesn't have a good say in this case yet I knew how she's waiting for an opportunity to settle the old rivalry with my scores that I couldn't afford to lose.
•┃•
I am tired, exhausted or any fancy word that could suit me. I don't know how will I be able to meet the deadline of my favourite professor. Moreover, the migraine keeps on hammering the minimal sanity I had.
"Maamu, pair dard horhe hai." how can I forget to mention that my niece was icing on the cake in my misery.
"bhook lagrahi hai, chaachu." Alina whined for the millionth time.
" Chup baitho Alina, Kitni dafa kaha hai mujhe yeh maamu, chachu ek sath nahi bulao, bhai bolo." I mean, such huge labels of the elderly don't complement my personality. Neither my hair is greying nor the disc of my spine is slipping away.
" Isme meri kya galti hai ki aapke bhai aur aapki cousin ne aapas me shaadi karli." she clamped her hands and tried to shake her lips in the left, her small nose scrunched after doing so.
" Sharam karo, maa baap hai tumhare." I sighed.
"Bhai, ice cream khaani hai." Another unnecessary demand and another unnecessary tantrum.
"Alina, Ghar chalo chup chaap." I removed my spectacles and rubbed my sleepy eyes, dealing with Alina is like playing with the fire.
A sob.
A fake sob erupted from the lips of Alina. "Chachu please dilwa do na" she pleaded, twice with glistening eyes that were radiating the twinkling stars, a line of mucous seeped from her nose. Gross.
I tried to drag her from the bustling Bazaar of Billa Marg but her small legs maintained the grip at the place she stood. The trespassers scanned the melodrama Alina threw at the middle of the road, some of them even stood there, dumbfounded by the loud cries of her.
"Take this ice cream." People should learn to mind their own freaking business.
Annoyed at the fact that the woman who, I assumed to be at the last stage of teenage, tried to lure my niece with a chocolate bar, created multiple crime patrol episodes in my head. I tried to clear my throat to grab their attention but the young ladies were engaged in their bubble of conversation.
"Alina, wapas karo unhe yeh."
"Aap kon?" Alina began with her puppy dog eyes.
The next thing I recalled about the young lady clad in a simple salwar kameez suspecting me of a child kidnapper.
•┃•
Vote, comment and share
YOU ARE READING
Hum-Shanaas
Teen Fiction"It's a curse to be the oldest among my siblings, what am I? A second parent for them to hate? Did my parents forget that I am their part of flesh and blood?" "It's a curse to be the youngest, they think that I am in constant need of spoon-feeding...
