It was the time, while most people were having an 'American Dream' styled celebration which might distract the needy to have been persuaded by it. The people from lowest class were happy due to the joy and love that makes even little moments more touching. The highest society of people might show themselves to be overjoyed, hence, the deeper you explore, the circumstance might be an unpleasant experience. However, people cannot predict the consequences. If the expectations do not turn into reality, they stay with the utmost disappointment of the youngsters, lead themselves to take some unusual steps. Steps prohibited by the communal laws and in the religious texts.

Hence, the middle ones were quite calculative, and at the same time, demanding for the wealthiest individuals. The scattered city of Dhaka, while on the one side, the skyscrapers, to the other, the slums and the last, the building of only five stories, that would be the home to those who may be joyous but also be unpleasant while in odd situations. The streets that were on the surface, had small markets selling varieties of fruits or vegetables. The markets that were on the streets were made from brown sacks that were supported by dried bamboos kept standing on the ground. Some shops even had tin shades rather than the brown cloth. The fresh, organic fruits and vegetables were displayed, as most of the clients from the neighborhood were buying from the fruit and grocery stalls.

The lights, scattered with the lamp posts and the students were hanging out at the tea stall. The shop had a long bench on the outside where young adults in their 20s and teenagers trying to act like they were older were having tea, while laughing on their own inside jokes, most people would be later familiar with this. The tin shade might be the outside while the white-painted brick walls secured the frequent raining cats and dogs. The street dogs howling at the superstition that raves by the people of the intellectuals, never believing in ghosts, or any other entities such as time travel or dimensions creating a CHAOS! The streets were wet due to the rain, and a short, thin, stout, young man, was strolling on the footpath, while the cars were moving on the mud that splashed on his hooded leather jacket. He might take cover in his hood, but his face seemed dark and most of his features of a typical handsome men in the city. He was a teenager, maybe sixteen, seventeen?

His thoughts seemed jaded and not letting his mind be his usual self, distracting him from almost everything. His bag on his back always reminded him of his own work, in his High school. Family pressure, peer pressure, all of it never mattered to him. Until, he gets personally triggered. He has his own problems such as focusing on oneself, no motivation and the courage of a mouse. He reached to his apartment of a home two story high, decorated with the walls of old and rich colors. He walked to the staircase, old and damaged in the walls, and had wooden railing and the colors were on sky blue wallpapers. The adolescent slowly stepped upstairs to the second floor on with a light wooden door with a name plate written as:

"RAHAT KARIM

SABEDA BEGUM KARIM"

Rahat Karim was our protagonist's father, who used to work as a senior journalist in a newspaper press. You could say, from the mental health section. Ironically, he didn't even care for his son. He was extremely self-centered and was basically what you would call a narcissist. Sabeda Karim, still traumatized by her brother's passing, who died in cancer fifteen years ago. She thought about her daughter, but her son? It was critical. On the other hand, the only supporting source was his sister, Abeda, who was just fifteen while Jawad was just 2 years older than her.

Abeda might be fifteen, craving for education and wanted to be a journalist just like her mother. Who until some time ago still was one, until Abeda's uncle was shot in one of the cases, which as eventually solved by her father, Rahat. It was actually, searching on the entertainment mafia who killed some of the outsiders, especially the talented ones. Since, the death of Sabeda's brother, the part of Jawad's childhood had been numbed and unenthusiastic.

Unless, whenever Jawad used to enter the room, Rahat constantly talked about his results. Even today, he just entered the living room, Rahat was sitting on the sofa, having tea and skimming some news at the phone. When Rahat heard a door sound from the presence of his son, Jawad, he glared by looking at the pack full of groceries.

"Well, Jawad, what time do you think it is right now?" asked Rahat in a stern manner.

"Its nine thirty I'm pretty sure?" said Jawad, in a softer voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be home at FIVE thirty?" said Rahat.

"Dad, it was pouring outside. How can a man manage timely if there are tough situations coming through?" said Jawad.

"I don't care about the rain! You will fail in your grades, if you don't revise for your exams properly! And who in the world told you to bring the groceries? Aren't you supposed to study for your board exams? You've failed mathematics a lot of times goddammit! This it's the third time, you are failing! I was once what you would call a god in mathematics! My teachers called me a mathematician! And you, you are just a good for nothing loser!" screamed Rahat.

"GOODNESS! Please Dad! Why are you comparing yourself with me!? Please let this be clear that even though I am your son I AM NOT YOU! Don't I have a life of my own?! I can't understand mathematics OK?! Please! Just leave me alone! Fucking can't stand this, anymore!" screamed Jawad.

Rahat was silent. Hence, Jawad walked fast through his room beside the living room and he slammed the door harder than a Looney-toon character ever did.

Jawad, the boy of seventeen still could not complete his High School Diploma that led to the misconception of his parents. In reality, he was traumatized by bullying, and had a handful of friends to support him. People commonly called him, a nerd-who-can't-take-jokes. By that term meaning that he talks in an extremely straightforward manner by that his classmates used to ridicule him for. Yet, his uncle getting killed in a shootout hadn't affected him much, he never even knew his uncle. Henceforth, Rahat first was overprotective of Jawad, as such that he couldn't have friends except few who used to take him for tea. He was sent to several schools, due to his 'imperfect history' of being bullied.

Abeda, a year younger might be more of a nerd than her brother but she understands the brothers' pain more. It was after a few moments of silence, while Rahat left the leaving room with desperation and frustration regarding his son's behavior that couldn't usually resonate with a particular parent who grew up on forgetting their own stupidity as a child and beg their children not to repeat the same mistakes, but they have forgotten what they studied from Khalil Gibran's work, from his poetic book, 'The Prophet', 'your children are not your children'.

Abeda, a tall, lean, long-haired, teenage girl knocked the door softly. Jawad opened the door in the similar fashion. She entered his room with grace and elegance with softness plus the gentleness of her eyes. That would be the only time, his moods do freshen up with a smile that removes a bit from the hunger of love. Hence, Jawad sat on the bed, while Abeda sat on the study chair opposite him. The room was scattered with film posters, especially with World Cinema.

"What's wrong, bro?" asked the outgoing Abeda.

"Same old dad" said Jawad casually.

"I guess there is no end to family drama, huh? Oh, by the way, I found out a new form of knowledge that even questions me as a human being. From what I observed, it is all about the mind and its aspects of the universal consciousness. Some of my friends, discussed it in school. By the most of it, we all found out that the knowledge is becoming just a loss of spirituality, as to the contrast, it became the secularity that lacks the touch of family value and its emotions, that are less likely to be applied" said Abeda.

"This concept is lit! I don't know whether this concept of the universal mind is a bit more of a meditation. parapsychologists call it, a lot more than the theory. To make it forward, I am pretty much questioning myself in terms of a confusion. As a person, as a human being, I question myself, what comes and goes, tomorrow might not come" said Jawad.

"Bro, the touch of the heart might set you to cross your own limitations, ever of the needs might come. Born as a human being, it is really incorrigible to handle all the toxic relationships. Anyway, how is your day, today?" asked Abdeda.

Jawad sighed with relief, that now he got a chance to share.

"Today, was a Friday. I woke up at 9 O clock in the morning and studied math for like, four hours. Therefore, Mom was always silent and is not easy to talk to. I managed the list of groceries with my maid and have taken permission from dad. He reluctantly agreed. Therefore, reaching the grocery shop had me in time to manage all the vegtables to buy. But, I was stuck in the rain with the baggage. Therefore, the tea shop attracted me beside the market. I sat there and drank a sip of green tea. It's been another four hours of waiting the rain to stop. Even if the area is clean, there is a transport strike, where the rickshaw or any other vehicles are not allowed to go to our area, thanks to the politician sucked money from those hard-working people. People are telling me, I am making excuses, but if someone just get deep inside my heart, I wish I could embrace that" said Jawad.

"I think, people think that the world is all about themselves but the limitations of the mind might also enhance the poison of their perspectives. Every day is monotonous. The only time you smile when the eventful time comes into place" said Abeda.

Abeda saw her brother's tiring but a bit of a joyful expression. Could be realistic or may be artificial.

"I understand" smiled Abeda.

Suddenly, both brother and sister heard of the mother who was crying like a child, when the mother was reminded of the uncle.

Jawad couldn't rush, while Abeda rushed towards the room. She immediately consoled Sabeda who was crying, looking at her brother's picture, which led to the everyday family drama on which Jawad used to avoid.