I folded the clothes and set his medicines on one side. My father was leaving again With Mr.Elahim.

I saw the bird of sorrow weep at the stems of the Al-Wais favourite foxgloves. If the world would end tonight, would I leave willingly? Perhaps not. Not without seeing Al-Wildan laugh once alive.

I went from the unwelcome book-keeper to the required housekeeper. Without Mrs. Salma, the house needed one besides Mrs. Kasheefa and I became so. Cooking, serving, scrubbing the table and dusting the rooms. The very servant job I rejected. With that, I learned that perhaps you have to taste the unknown to know the hidden secrets of the cliché no job in the world is big or small.

The atmosphere was dewy and the shimmery drops of dew teased us playfully. "Can you make a cup of tea and give it to Al-Wais in his room, I have to see Mum? " Mrs. Kasheefa said.

I made the tea mounted it on the tray and trudged to his room. I had never seen his room. I knocked.

"Come in" he announced sternly.

I walked inside.

Incandescent light, incandescent fragrance.

A large room with an unfamiliar notion.
The bed in the middle with deep maroon cover and fluffed up beside plenty pillows. The windows like the rest of the house were tall and elegant. I looked at the right where there was a sleek cupboard stacked with books, his own personal library.

and he was there.....

behind the large desk on his grand armchair looking solemn.

I clearly remember the moment fixing itself inside me. I looked at him for the first time without the weight of my lashes dragging me down. In the intensity of the interval, I fetched my heart and soul to serve Al-Wais whatever he would ask because sadness affectionates with sadness.

His sadness was drawing me close. The mighty man sat with his right leg folded on his left thigh, head down, eye sparkling beside the fireplace and sadness dripping from his face like fresh honey.

On the desk were scattered notes, a broken ink pen and beside the ink bottle as dark as the night were five miniature pieces: A fire rising from a small mountain, the flames however that was erupting was real. A small beautiful sculpture that had no face or definite body but resembled an abstract beauty, A slender glass in which the sand did not rest, it circled around wildly raging. At the edge, a large throne similar to the armchair he rested on with a crown at the top and a small white Lily on the tiniest island under Al-Wais careful fingers moving around. And with how he handled the lily it wasn't hard to put the puzzle piece, it was the miniature that resembled Al-Wildan.

Helpless, desperate, morbid, fallacious, extremely exhausted I know this feeling of losing.....

I placed his cup. "he would be alright Al-Wais? " I consoled him but I needed to believe myself in the words but little very little belief was left in me.

He grew more silent. His head Did not recover from the dark, I turned to leave.

"Do you ever feel lonely Falaq-Naaz? "
His voice evoked the chills on my hands.

I turned. I shouldn't have said so but I did:

"More than anything in this world" I confessed.

"Please sit" he spoke softly.

I sat beside his desk on my knees on the floor. Agitated to know him, agitated to be known in this forlorn world.

"But you have Al-Fateh, your father and your grandmother... " he spoke the words in a question knowing the answer himself but he was complex by the way of life. Of himself, of mine? still, this had to be found.

"I have myself too Al-Wais, it makes me enough lonely and unlikely at the same time. When I am with myself, she's cruel, she makes me lonely and she does not care about the company, she does not speak but all is spoken. The probability of loneliness and affiliation is entirely lost inside me "

There was only the sound of the golden clock ticking.

"If there wasn't this life, where shall you be at?" he asked. Now he reminded me of Al-Wildan which made me smile faintly.

"if all was well you mean? My mother's arms I guarantee" I said as my smile got deeper with the sight of my mother's arms around me.

He looked at me and caught my smile slightly but before he could hold a curve he jerked back with his armchair.

"Dismiss" he announced sternly.

I crept back realizing the reality had touched us now. I rose to my feet.

"he would get well," I said to him.

"close the door while leaving" he spoke with his eyes fixed on the paper I knew he wasn't ever going to read.

The other Day, my usual visit to Al-Wildan became unusual.

"but there are marks! Why don't you trust me! " I argued with Al-Hassan.

"Alright! Might be! You shouldn't have stared onto them. Leave, shall you? " he grunted.

I hate them at times. Al-Wildan has blue marks across his neck and a wound on his forehead but Al-Hassan insists that I unsee the wounds and act like him; unaware, blind, obnoxious!

"He could be possessed! God lord Al-Hassan will you consult with an adult! "
Now, this has somehow offended him. His forehead folds and he twitched his mouth; unlike the Elahim manners. Made me smile but cautiously.

"he could be possessed" I repeated.

"Perhaps that could be the case but it shan't worry. You should leave"
He narrowed his eyes.

"he is my brother " I didn't mean to but the words came out.

"what! " he said in utter astonishment.

"he's like my brother like I meant like he's just like my brother to me" embarrassed yet explaining.

"He IS MY brother" the stress at MY was emphasizing.

"sure" I held my head down and rolled my eyes.

"but you should consult somebody--"

"adult? " he interjected.

"yes... " I spoke softly.

"I am an adult and I know. Al-Wildan is not possessed"

Because he seemed so desperate and so vulnerable I tortured him more.

" how do you know? "

"You Won't Leave? I shall have you be removed then " he said in his authoritative breath.

"take care of him" I answered defeated.

"he is my brother " he repeated.

"well, he could be possessed!" I stubbornly pressed upon the table.

"Have you lost your mind Falaq-Naaz. Did you not hear me, I said he is not possessed" he was catching up the rage I left.

"how do you know? " I argued.

"Good heavens! Do I look stupid? I am not stupid. I know"

"Or must he say instead that he is not you Ni'sa" Al -Shizad walked in.

I bitterly smiled. After days have they spoken.

"please do tell me what has happened to him" I requested before I left.

But it is completely mind-boggling. These spooky incidences of the house, these odd occurrences. What is this mystery? How is Al-Hassan so adamantly sure that he is not possessed. He knows... They all know but they are hiding secrets like treasures in the sections of the houses, locked down chambers and tall cupboards.

It should not bother me. I should not seek for answers. These are not my questions. They are not my people. I am not of them. They are not of me. Yet for Wildan my heart aches. Get well soon, get well soon.