Philophobia

TWO

She just gave a finishing touch to her lip color, applied a line of eyeliner and looked for a critical impression.

"This pink lip gloss always turns dark. What a mess I have bought!" Pressing her lips tightly against the tissue paper she thought and shrugged her shoulders.

"Baba must be waiting and here I am fixing my invisible makeup. Hurry up, Miss. Lethargic!" Running to the dustbin she screamed.

She was looking fine and was all set to face anyone but little did she know that someone's sharp eyes are assigned the task by the fate.

"What if the doctor asks me something rude? What if Baba never opens up? He is sensitive and I cannot see him in pain. It was my pressure that he agreed but will his insecurities and pride surrender before the tough questions? He even refused to have a proper breakfast. What should I do? Am I doing it right?" Staring at the dressing mirror she spoke to herself in a low tone.

Her expressions were not comforting the thoughts travelling through her mind and she was confused. Gathering the skin of her forehead in her fingers she wore an off white formal coat and wrapped her whitish blue rebozo in a stylish manner, which carried dull creamy printed motifs, around her head hastily. Pushing the pins into the thickness of the cloth she soon recovered from a sudden stream of confusion and nervousness. Smiling at herself she patted her own cheeks and a shine depicting the disbelief drowned in those eyes.

She was different from other girls. When her friends talked about the looks of their prince charming she knitted the picture of being on an exclusive ceremony collecting the accolades for her performances. When they thought about the fashion she imagined herself signing various financial statements. It was not the case that she did not love fantasizing but she wanted to become someone to whom people look for, to look upon. She was like the waves on the silent waters that make them to lose their stagnancy. She was one of her kind. She was Sataish.

Her name meant praise and she had the skills to grasp the attention. She was habitual of winning so feared the defeat. On that moment she was going to take her father to his psychiatrist for their first consultation session. She always went gloomy when the thought of depression and solitude of her beloved Baba hit her mind. She was his only child and he was her only one. The both daughter and father were tied in a beautiful bond of friendship for which the world always went jealous. Their relationship was the key in bringing Baba out of the pain of his failed business. She was there to support him but it was also her suggestion to make a formal meeting with Dr.Irtaza, the psychiatrist for whom a whole world was after as he was the young and gentle man with ambition to make his patients free of stress or from every trouble that made them to bid a farewell to their relief. He carried a good name so she made the choice.

She quickly distracted herself from the thoughts of her Baba and slightly picked her bag and moved. A fresh breeze of her scent perfumed the corridor.

"Baba, are you ready?" Knocking on the door she inquired.

"Yes, my baby. Come and see that I have worn your gifted shirt." Baba was looking happy and a sigh of relief parted through her lips.

"My Baba is the world's most handsome man." Hugging him tightly she exclaimed and then the both friends made their way to the drive way.

She made her Baba sit in the front passenger seat of the slate color car and drove away.

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AssalamoAlaikum.

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Allah Hafiz.