Fiction

Time Will Reflect

Here is a parable:

There once was a builder. All he remembered of his life was building houses. As a kid, he would make sand castles, design them, collect abandoned articles from debris for decoration, and spend days on little details that would never be noticed by most. But, he knew, he will know and will tell everyone who would listen.

Keys to castle

“Did you listen to Faiz Ahmed Faiz?” asked she.

“No. I was reading about him. I am yet to choose which book to buy,” I tried to cover. I had just excused myself from attending their new year’s celebration and totally forgot she asked me to listen to Faiz’s poem.

“Hmph!?” she exhaled.

I knew I overlooked something of critical importance and lost rights to be addressed as a human. ‘Hmph!’ with interrogative is reserved for those rare moments. In a parallel universe, where she really is the princess she acts, I was already sentenced to roast–upside down on burning coal–till my head expands to her standards, and I realize my mistake.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. It seemed bad statistics to say no to three consecutive questions.

Tread Lightly, Surprises Ahead!

“Hello,” said she. “I don’t have much time. Tell me quickly—how are you?” she continued without any pause, “Actually leave that, did you book your flight to the wedding?”

“Hi! — thanks — all good — will do — go away,” I replied like I was being charged for every spoken word, as in the days of telegram when real-time communication was charged per written-character.