He walks in the air conditioned, deluxe room of his opulent apartment again, that stands tall in the soaring building in one of the posh areas of the country. Slamming the door behind him, he halts in the centre of the room, his gaze keenly scanning every corner of his plushy bedroom. He nods, as his glance passes over the oak ledges that circle the textured walls of his room; and adorning those ledges are his numerous trophies, medals, accolades and shields that stare at him perpetually, somehow reminding him that he had everything, yet deserved more and more. He habitually feels that inexplicable uneasiness on realizing that he is being contritely stared at by those typical, familiar eyes, which unravel his concealed, voracious plans under illumination of the dimly lit up room, reflecting his gorgeous looks and elite grace, which the world craved for. He murmurs to himself that if he looked so stunning, then why did not his mirror compliment him ever; and are those dim gaze that stare at him, set to shatter his pride tonight and break his heart to a million pieces again, just because he is impelled not to break it. The parallel image, which is so known to the world outside still, was unfamiliar to him. If he waved the right hand, why did this man waved the left hand against his will, if he was alone, was this man in front of him also lonely, deep down in the heart...or wait- Did he have a heart? If he was the hero for the world, was he then a villain for this man? With the brightness of his eyes, will this man perceive a world of grim darkness...or wait- Did he have a vision at all? Through his moist blue eyes, did this man plot to flood the world? When he did not ask any questions to this man at all, then why did the man impose his answers on him, he never wanted to listen at all. At the junction of fates pretence vanishes, so did that mean he lived in pretence, so was this man original? Did he not once encourage him to rule the world or was he trying to cage him in himself? But he did physically exist and this man did not! He had no dilemmas at all, he was at once decisive, so then was this man confused? The world eagerly awaited his arrival and this man in front of him always loved his departure; Then why? Then why did he always return to this man? Perchance this man was innocent, and he was his criminal, yes- he, a criminal, whose crime can never be proved in any court of justice and no court could ever summon him, let alone convicting him. This man had his own laws, own rules to shatter his existence again. How could this man shout at him like this, when he did not utter a single word? How could he allow this man to summon him, when the rest of world yearned for his appointments? How could this man keep him wide awake the entire night, when the guards outside his room kept a watch for his peaceful slumber…peaceful?
No, peace was a word so alien to his soul now. But he had everything for an ideal life, for his utopia! That is what all kept on telling him, then why did peace evade him. He had a huge bank balance; he owned grand estates in almost every continent, his wallet was invariably ballooned with cash and cards, in the garage he was greeted by the stretched line of lavish cars of all types; he felt he had everything and did not wish for more. He had a job fetching him fortunes, but he wanted to retire, he had friends in outlandish taverns to cheer him up, but he had none to console his miserable instincts. He had a small family across the oceans to make him feel cared for yet could not make him feel missed or loved. And may be that is why peace continues to play ‘hide & seek’ with him.
Hence, this man glaring at him, continues to antagonize him, with his sinister smile…Oh, why on earth, did he not talk to him properly, settling the accounts once and for all, what else should he provide him with, he thought. He never liked to quarrel, but this man instigated that demon in him, when he had entitled himself to the faith of humanity.
Was he an envious lover? But this narcissism irked him and not fascinated him. He was confident enough to conquer the world, then why did this attractive man created barriers for him. Did this man envy his success, or did he envy the peace this man had. If he made this man, then why did the man wish to ruin him? With a broken heart, he was already grief-stricken, and now the little that remained will be shattered to shreds soon, by this man who plotted to bury him alive…alive? Everyone said, he lived the life on his own terms, but he never had any terms or conditions…or they fooled him for the ‘business clause’. And enviably this man, unlike him, was free of any conditions, not expected to follow any ‘business clause’; he was not alive and yet he lived like he never could. With the incinerating sensations, did he not feel his pain?
So what should he do, given that his surroundings, the smothering crowd that flocked around him, the limelight thirsty monsters around him and the snobbish soothsayers entering his house freely, will never allow him the chance to satiate the needs of this man standing in front of him; they will never ever allow him to be driven out of the glum whirlpool. Does that imply he is helpless? No, how dare this man pen down such a mutual consensus without his consent; how dare the man reflect, what he did not emit?
No, no, never…no, no, nooo…noooooo!!! And CLANK, then CHINK!!! A light clattering sound filled in the room
Oh- he again allowed this man to be multiplied to infinity, now he shouts at him from every corner of the room, from every direction possible. He contrives to meet his eyes from everywhere; the peace of the man increasing a multifold- he had a heart, now he reflects the heart; stop, he must. He was everywhere, while the man was nowhere and now, he is nowhere, and this man is everywhere! Just when he was about to finish his meeting with this lean man forever, damn! He hears the creaking of the door. He turns around.
“Sir, the director is waiting outside in the foyer, it is time for the meeting, sir”, his stout and meticulous secretary informs. He slightly nods his head and charily moves towards the closet in the room. Heaving out the designer leather jacket from the wardrobe, he then collects the keys and documents lying on the polished teak-wood study table in a corner of the room and starts advancing towards the door. Reluctantly he walks, lost in some deep contemplation, at the same time well mindful, that he will never be able to end the meeting with his director. His secretary holds the door open for him, as he steps out of his room. He pauses for a moment, looking at his wary secretary, “As soon as I leave, ask the management to send in the sweeper to sweep up the scattered shreds of mirror, all over the floor”, he flatly orders his secretary. Giving a brief nod, the secretary slams the door shut behind him, as he sprucely walks away to meet the director.
-BY SANA SHAH
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