Karma

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
he wonders why his son is indifferent. will his reflection help him find out the reason behind the disrespectful attitude of his son? will it put an end to his answers?

Submitted: October 12, 2016

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Submitted: October 12, 2016

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"Dad, he's not free. He has school to attend and homework to do, in case you forgot," Eric snapped from the other side of the phone. I let out a defeated sigh as he hung up and walked over to the mirror.

A sixty years old, retired man stared at me with pale eyes that were filled with suppressed tears. His hear was thinning and had turned a shade of light grey, defining his age. My eyes widened as they saw the reflection of their owner smile, contradicting his actions.

My reflection stepped out of the long, ancient mirror and stopped in front of me. My hands trembled with fear as my heart beat erratically against my chest. I tried to say something but my voice failed me. My reflection was still staring at me, it's eyes filled with a hint of kindness and it's smile genuine.

"You're sad, aren't you?" my counterpart said, "Desperate to meet your grandson and son, right? You're wondering why this is happening to you, why your son is treating you this way when you gave him a good childhood and provided him with everything a son could ever wish for. Am I right?," he continued. His eyes fixated on the frame of my nineteen-year old self. I followed his gaze and my heart sank as I saw the tall and fair boy with a slight smile, his arms around the shoulders of his parents who were standing on either side of him.

I returned my gaze to my reflection and saw the pair of those dull, brown eyes examining my face, waiting for an answer. My breath hitched as I forced the reply out.

"Y-Yes, you're right. But who are you?" My reply followed a question. My reflection snickered.

"Let me put an end to your wonders. You want to know the reason behind his indifference, don't you? You should go back forty years. Rewind the time in your mind. It is the answer to all your questions."

******************* A young boy, of about twenty years of age, rang the doorbell. He stood waiting on the porch, tapping his leg impatiently. A moment later, a middle-aged woman opened the door and her face enlightened with delight as she saw her son stand in front of her.

"After so many days," she said, "We thought you forgot us. Ah Jacob, it is so good to see you again." She stepped forward to embrace her only child but the boy stepped back, not wanting to be encircled within the warmth of his mother's arms. A look of hurt flashed across her eyes when she saw the rejection. It made my heart ache. I had been a horrible son.

"No cliché hugs or kisses, Mom. Please. I'm twenty now. Stop treating me like a ten-year old, for God's sake," the boy snapped at her mother. She mumbled a 'sorry' and made way for her son to enter the indoor portion of the premises of their home. I stepped inside, fully aware of my transparency. The scenario was black and white, filled with misery and regret, like my heart.

The boy greeted his father coldly and climbed the stairs. A loud thud echoed through the house as the boy slammed his bedroom door shut. This happened whenever he visited his parents' house. He greeted them indifferently and marched to his room with an aura of arrogance. My eyes welled up with tears as I saw the sorrow on my parents' faces. They looked defeated and tired. I could feel their pain. It was so strong that it hurt physically. It was the same look that was etched upon my face after each encounter I had with my son.

All of a sudden, the scene began to whir. I shut my eyes tight at the revolving images. When I opened them, I stood once again in the house where I had spent my childhood, where I had held my mom's finger as I took my first steps and had learned to say 'dad' for the first time. My head began to throb but I ignored the ache as I walked over to the living room, where my mom and dad sat on the couch watching television.

The phone rang and my Dad reached out to pick it up, hope visible on his face. His eyes brightened when he heard his son's voice from the other side. He looked at his wife and whispered 'It's Jacob'. Mom's expression turned into one of pure delight.

"Hello Jacob! My dear son! How are you? How is Eric? Is he good? Has he grown any teeth?," dad was saying excitedly. His expression dulled suddenly and a look of immense grief took over his wrinkly features. He mumbled an 'okay' and dropped the phone on the coffee table in front of the couch. His wife was now looking at him with concern.

"What did he say? Is everything okay?" Mom asked worriedly.

"He just called to let us know that he won't drop Eric on Saturday. He has to attend a formal party so he is going to be busy all day, " Dad's voice was laced with sadness.

"What have we done to deserve such a son, Mary? Tell me, have we done something wrong? Is he angry at us?" Dad said again, his voice heavy and broken.

"Then what is it?! Why does he treat us like we don't matter to him?!" his voice rose a few octaves as his wife shook her head as an answer to his previous question. Mom's eyes webbed with tears as she saw her husband's hurt caused by her son's attitude. Soon, they both were sobbing into each other's arms.

I remembered that time. Mom and Dad were pestering me about wanting to meet Eric, who was 9 months old at that time. It had been a few months since my parents last saw Eric, and they were desperate to meet their grandson again. It was now that I realized the intensity of the pain they felt. It was powerful than any physical wound could cause. It had the ability to make one's heart clench. It was the pain of two parents who raised their son, sacrificing their life while doing so, and got nothing in return but pure disrespect.

******************* I was in my room again. My room at the Old Home. I searched for the transparent version of myself that had stepped out of the mirror. It was standing beside me. I stared at it, waiting for it to say something. Instead, he just whispered two audible words: "It's karma."

And then it vanished"Dad, he's not free. He has school to attend and homework to do, in case you forgot," Eric snapped from the other side of the phone. I let out a defeated sigh as he hung up and walked over to the mirror.

A sixty years old, retired man stared at me with pale eyes that were filled with suppressed tears. His hear was thinning and had turned a shade of light grey, defining his age. My eyes widened as they saw the reflection of their owner smile, contradicting his actions.

My reflection stepped out of the long, ancient mirror and stopped in front of me. My hands trembled with fear as my heart beat erratically against my chest. I tried to say something but my voice failed me. My reflection was still staring at me, it's eyes filled with a hint of kindness and it's smile genuine.

"You're sad, aren't you?" my counterpart said, "Desperate to meet your grandson and son, right? You're wondering why this is happening to you, why your son is treating you this way when you gave him a good childhood and provided him with everything a son could ever wish for. Am I right?," he continued. His eyes fixated on the frame of my nineteen-year old self. I followed his gaze and my heart sank as I saw the tall and fair boy smiling with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

I returned my gaze to my reflection and saw the pair of those dull, brown eyes examining my face, waiting for an answer. My breath hitched as I forced the reply out.

"Y-Yes, you're right. But who are you?" My reply followed a question. My reflection snickered.

"Let me put an end to your wonders. You want to know the reason behind his indifference, don't you? You should go back forty years. Rewind the time in your mind. It is the answer to all your questions."

******************* A young boy, of about twenty years of age, rang the doorbell. He stood waiting on the porch, tapping his leg impatiently. A moment later, a middle-aged woman opened the door and her face enlightened with delight as she saw her son stand in front of her.

"After so many days," she said, "We thought you forgot us. Ah Jacob, it is so good to see you again." She stepped forward to embrace her only child but the boy stepped back, not wanting to be encircled within the warmth of his mother's arms. A look of hurt flashed across her eyes when she saw the rejection. It made my heart ache. I had been a horrible son.

"No cliché hugs or kisses, Mom. Please. I'm twenty now. Stop treating me like a ten-year old, for God's sake," the boy snapped at her mother. She mumbled a 'sorry' and made way for her son to enter the indoor portion of the premises of their home. I stepped inside, fully aware of my transparency. The scenario was black and white, filled with misery and regret, like my heart.

The boy greeted his father coldly and climbed the stairs. A loud thud echoed through the house as the boy slammed his bedroom door shut. This happened whenever he visited his parents' house. He greeted them indifferently and marched to his room with an aura of arrogance. My eyes welled up with tears as I saw the sorrow on my parents' faces. They looked defeated and tired. I could feel their pain. It was so strong that it hurt physically. It was the same look that was etched upon my face after each encounter I had with my son. All of a sudden, the scene began to whir. I shut my eyes tight at the revolving images. When I opened them, I stood once again in the house where I had spent my childhood, where I had held my mom's finger as I took my first steps and had learned to say 'dad' for the first time. My head began to throb but I ignored the ache as I walked over to the living room, where my mom and dad sat on the couch watching television.

The phone rang and my Dad reached out to pick it up, hope visible on his face. His eyes brightened when he heard his son's voice from the other side. He looked at his wife and whispered 'It's Jacob'. Mom's expression turned into one of pure delight.

"Hello Jacob! My dear son! How are you? How is Eric? Is he good? Has he grown any teeth?," dad was saying excitedly. His expression dulled suddenly and a look of immense grief took over his wrinkly features. He mumbled an 'okay' and dropped the phone on the coffee table in front of the couch. His wife was now looking at him with concern.

"What did he say? His everything okay?" Mom asked worriedly.

"He just called to let us know that he won't drop Eric on Saturday. He has to attend a formal party so he is going to be busy all day, " Dad's voice was laced with sadness.

"What have we done to deserve such a son, Mary? Tell me, have we done something wrong? Is he angry at us?" Dad said again, his voice heavy and broken.

"Then what is it?! Why does he treat us like we do nt matter to him?!" his voice rose a few octaves as his wife shook her head as an answer to his previous question. Mom's eyes webbed with tears as she saw her husband's hurt caused by her son's attitude. Soon, they both were sobbing into each other's arms.

I remembered that time. Mom and Dad were pestering me about wanting to meet Eric, who was 9 month old at that time. It had been a few months since my parents last saw Eric, and they were desperate to meet their grandson again. It was now that I realized the intensity of the pain they felt. It was powerful than any physical wound could cause. It had the ability to make one's heart clench. It was the pain of two parents who raised their son, sacrificing their life while doing so, and got nothing in return but pure disrespect.

******************* I was in my room again. My room at the Old Home. I searched for the transparent version of myself that had stepped out of the mirror. It was standing beside me. I stared at it, waiting for it to say something. Instead, he just whispered two audible words: "It's karma."

And then it vanished.


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