Chaos in the Canvas √

05 | mesmerism

Miracles dwell in the invisible.

-Mowlana Rumi

Thursday - 6:51pm

The times when Ibrahim Yazdani wanted to kill himself were rare.

Today, however, it happened to be one and as he stared at his cousin, sitting in the study of their house, talking endlessly about a new disease that had broken out, he devised plans to suicide in a way that would hurt less.

"God, Safaa." He finally groaned, "What did I ever do to deserve this torture?" His small, brown eyes were tired as he ran a hand over his face.

"What...you weren't listening?" Safaa widened her eyes as she eyed Ibrahim with anger.

"I tried to listen. But you lost me somewhere between the causes and symptoms." His exaggerated sigh and the running of fingers through the ink-coloured hair fueled Safaa's anger whose confused expression turned into one of sheer annoyance.

"I haven't seen a man more insensitive than you are." She finally exclaimed and Ibrahim was well to go along with it, as long as he didn't hear anymore of her.

"Yeah, yeah. I am. But come on, you should tell that to some doctor, maybe he'll show some interest." Ibrahim suggested with a deep frown.

"You don't have to be a doctor to be interested in these things. You have to have feelings, which you clearly lack." Safaa's remark only made Ibrahim roll his eyes as he stood up from the sofa.

"But you need to be a doctor to understand these medical terms and stuff, which I'm clearly not. Talk to me all you want about accounts, capital investment, but the moment you utter some medical word, you lose me." Ibrahim took none to offence as he walked out of the room, followed by Safaa who had a frown on her face.

"What if you encounter this disease in future? You should at least know what it is." Safaa said as they descended the stairs and walked straight towards the living room.

"The chances of me encountering a disease that has broken out in West are rare." Ibrahim turned to glare at his cousin who creased her brows sheepishly, "But even if I do get it, I'll ask my doctor to enlighten me. You, my sister, should save your breath."

Ibrahim was clearly annoyed by now and he wasn't doing any effort to mask it either, his strides fast but swift, hardly enough for the girl behind him to keep up with his pace.

"Oh, I'm so happy right now that you've ended.." Safaa's words were cut off mid-sentence as they entered the living room, a space that was painted dark brown and housed plush, leather sofas positioned towards a central coffee table; massive television; diagonal book rack and a fireplace.

But it wasn't the anterior of the room that made Safaa halt, it were the two people sitting there, for whom she held great respect-Ibrahim's parents.

"Ammu, where's Mustafa?" Ibrahim asked as he crossed the threshold, coming to stand beside the central table, and looked down at his mother.

"He is in the kitchen." The reply came from his father and Ibrahim turned towards him.

"May Allah bless the kitchen." A breathy chuckle escaped past his thin lips as he seated himself on the sofa beside his mother.

Mustafa, the elder brother, was a terrible cook but that didn't stop him from experimenting every once in a while. Most of the time, however, it ended with burnt dishes, blackened shelves and a kitchen that looked anything but. After all, having interest in cooking and not knowing how to do it are a terrible combination.