It was morning, a public holiday.

Haleema was sitting in the room, while Sabeda was helping her in the kitchen chores. Uncle Haleem was reading a newspaper, while Sohail smelt an odor from his armpits. It was sweaty and smells like an old rotten sock, coming out. Haleema sneezed, without being acknowledged about the smell. Loud sneeze blew out like a wind that even the food fell down, since, everyone was scared of Uncle Haleem's anger.

Until, Uncle Haleem laughed out loud with a heart-warming smile.

"Oh, sorry, son, your Aunt Haleema is allergic to sweat smell. I think, you haven't showered for a month. So today, you must have to shower, as prayers would be held after 12 O clock" said Uncle Haleem.

Sabeda was clearing the food. Instantly, Sohail went for shower at the back of their house where he used soap, while singing some very famous late 80s English and Bengali songs. Sabeda looked at him, covered full of foam. His eyes were about to burn, while looking for a mug of water. Simultaneously, Sabeda said "Brother, here's your bucket!"

She threw the water in his foamed body that he was shivering as if the ice was coming out from his body. Sohail was like a little child who screamed like the Late Michael Jackson "Oou!"

"Are you listening to those English songs again?" asked Sabeda.

To mind you, during the 70s, foreign entertainment was banned to get introduced to somewhat, their cultural music and other entertainment. What a classy era it was for the Bengali entertainment! In the 70s, the war had ended but still, some of the things were about to leave before its effects that might coming on the upcoming years. Sabeda revealed that when Sohail was a child, Uncle Haleem tripped from abroad and gifted him a walkman, where the Jackson 5 songs cassettes were used to hold up.

"So, yeah, now I remember. So how's your life at the hostel?" recalled Sohail.

"What should I say? I am in love with a boy in our university. He's a social activist, who always feed the poor and yes, one of the finest students, there in the journalism department" explained Sabeda.

"Well, well, well, sounds somewhat handsome and cocky to me!" sneered Sohail.

"He could be cocky but his charm and kindest heart did won my heart! But I want you to meet him, please! Please! Please!" begged the stubborn Sabeda.

As Jawad, his mom was not that stubborn child that he used to think. On the other hand, yes, the person his mom indicated was no other than his dad, whose similar background did harm his mental trauma. Furthermore, his arrogance was a little more developed in the 90s which might set a change for a while.

The shower was quickly done, Sohail's body seemed to have a fragnance of a lotus flower. He quickly went to the masjid for prayer. Therefore, he finished praying the Friday prayers, he walked out, thinking of what prayers he begged for. The woods around him was empty, plus the graveyards were just a distant away from his way out. While walking on his way to his home, a senile old man stood beside the tree. The old man was tall, handsome, grey hair and clean shaven. His scar was on his forehead. Sohail was walking past him.

"Jawad" stopped the creepy old man.

Sohail, or Jawad looked quite shocked while, eyes and mouth wide open.

"How do you know my name?" asked Jawad.

"I am just a traveller like you" explained the old man.

"A traveller?" shocked Jawad.

"Do you need explaination or just gain knowledge in the sequence of time periods? Falling off from the rooftop? All black? You are not on that timeline anymore" explained the old man.

"What do you mean?" asked Jawad with a lot of surprise.

"You can able to change the timeline, if you try to change your ways"

"Which means?"

"You will see, it's a really complicated timeline, you know?"

"Well, I need to know, that after I jumped from the rooftop, why am I here? In my uncle's body and why he does look like me?"

"You are your uncle, just you are here for a reason that you need to find that out. You are in one time, but you need to jump to the other timeline, when the responsibilities are done in that field of time, that..I guess, might get you into shape" explained the old man.

"How?" asked Jawad

"You will see. I got to go" said the old guide.

"Hold on, you haven't finished yet" Jawad was about to stop.

"Don't worry, you are safe in that area" said Jawad.

The old guide walked away the farthest. Hence, that left Jawad or Sohail shocked and happy that he might change the ways of his uncle to not only make his family happy but also to have peace within himself. Sohail walked on his way home nearside of the smallest town, where less traffic were there. Less vintage cars, some trucks and rickshaws, passing through the rough roads. Since then, he was walking through way home.

When Sohail got close to his home, he saw Uncle Haleem, standing outside, simling at him. The masjid was fifteen minutes away from their house. Since Sohail walked into the house, Uncle Haleem greeted him cheerfully.

"Well, son, hopefully, your prayers would be heard" smiled and said Haleem.

They walked into the house. To Sohail's shock, what surprised him was Sabeda, along with a man on his long clock or else, called kurta. The spectacles on his nose made a charming impact on the girl, that might marry in the future, or may be, things might change.

"Greetings, brother" said the man with the kurta.

"Rahat, I presume?" said Jawad, who was pretending to be Sohail.

"How do you know?" exclaimed Sabeda.

"I just had an intuition" explained Sohail.

"Well, your brother is a bloody genius who shook the world by writing his article in the Azad Newspaper. Pleasure to meet you, bro" said the snobbish Rahat, the man in the kurta.

"The pleasure is mine" saied Sohail deeply.

Aunt Haleema was coming out from the kitchen. When she saw Rahat, the surprise on her face was priceless as the kindly mother usually does. Her overjoyous nature overshadowed her hands on the plate that had been fell down but it was not broken, as it was a metal plate straightly imported from the city of Culcatta, which had been partitioned to become the part of India, formerly Bangladesh.

"Rahat, my boy! What a pleasant surprise! How did you come here" exclaimed Haleema.

"I just finished my prayer and got a landcall from Sabeda, then I am here" said Rahat.

"Sabeda, did you get to Aunt Raheema's house, that landline person?" asked Haleema.

"Yes, yes, Aunt Haleema. I was lucky enough to give a call early. Otherwise, the people are lining up in that neighborhood to set a call and ah! That another aunty from the neighborhood constantly speaks on the landline that a lot of the neighbors get impatient. That cachophony voice is just the unsuitable as if a crow coming out from that aunty's mouth..." said the irritated Sabeda.

Sohail laughed wholeheartedly for the first time as well as that even the snobbish Rahat became quite comfortable plus laughing with Sabeda's talketive nature. When she overheard their laugh, she got angry as a child who was addicted to films.

A smell of an odor came from both food and the rotten air. But Rahat was sneezing at the rotten air.

"Excuse me, it's just a little, you know. By the way, the food is ready" said Uncle Haleem, who actually farted.

The dine has been served with a sauted fish with onions, with the boiled vegetables and pilaf at the top. Rahat was eating with spoon, while the others were traditionally eating with their hands. The older Rahat was just the opposite, where he looked for simplicity on the change. Uncle Haleem was looking at Rahat with a little bit of a doubt by a dead stare. Sohail was on his own world, eating.

"Well, Rahat, I heard a lot about your activism" said Sohail. "So what are you doing nowadays?"

"Apparently, we are doing a campaign against the mysterious imports of the narcotic drugs. On the other hand, a journalist by the name of Saleem Ahmad Hassan was shot dead by the peddlers, which was enraged several youngsters to protest against the authority of our university. Hence, before making a movement, we need you to seek that" explained Rahat.

"Among all those people, why me?" asked Sohail.

"You are not only the journalist. As far as I know, despite the fact that you have partially lost your memory, you have all the old information in your desk, including criminal records" said Rahat.

Suddenly, Aunt Haleema cleared her throat, that distracted both Rahat and Sohail's conversation.

"Well, boys, shall we have these conversations later?" said Uncle Haleem and Aunt Haleema.

Sabeda felt awkward.