MaNan SS || Living in a mirage | Important A/N & Chapter 24 on P.51||

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Prologue

You are no delusion - no mirage, but Rima, like no other being on earth.

Green Mansions

W. H. Hudson

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It was early in the morning when Jahangir Shah - one of the famous psychiatrist in London - entered in the reception area of his studio. Wishing Mrs. Jackson, the receptionist, a less-busy morning, he walked towards his study.

Less-busy was all he wanted to be today - the last day of work before the vacation. "A much-needed family vacation,'' Shah thought. Just before the start of his eldest daughter's wedding preparation.

Naaz, the most favorite child of his, was going to start a new life, that was all he could think of. He was going to miss her and their late night chats on anything and everything. "A cup of black coffee made by my Naaz, and her sweet voice, that's all I needed those nights to stay awake to continue my work,'' Shah thought while closing the door of his study.

When he reached his desk, he paused suddenly, hearing the voices coming from outside. Before he could turn to check what was going on, the reason behind the chaos entered into the study himself - without knocking the door - in all his arrogant glory.

"Doctor Shah, I tried. But as always, he won't listen to me," his receptionist cried out, even though none ever blamed her. Ever since she started to work for him, she had always been extra worried about getting into trouble or to somehow offend her new boss or to be thought of as an incompetent.

"It's okay, Mrs. Jackson," Shah reassured her as he knew she wasn't at fault, a few months more and she too will become used to the violent intrusions, as he has. The same scene has happened way too many times from the past three years for him to be offended.

"Do I have any other appointment in the next hour?" Shah asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, Doctor Shah," she answered.

"Good. Thanks, Marie. I will take it from here," Shah said, looking at the young man in his mid-twenties, standing aloof, staring at something to his left as nothing that was being said had anything to do with him.

"Of course, Doctor Shah," Mrs.Jackson said, closing the door behind her.

Shah looked up at the clock, and couldn't help but sigh. It was just 9 AM, too early for what was about to come. Despite the fact that he came early every morning, he preferred to start working only after 10 AM, till then, he liked sipping a cup of strong black coffee as he thought about the topic of lectures he had to give that day, coming up with something interesting for his university students.

That was the routine of his weekdays, nothing and no one was to disturb him, well, apart from the young man now standing in front of him.

Shah was paid heavily to listen to the delusions and illusions of the only son of a rich Indian man, but that wasn't the only reason why Shah was still somewhat interested in this case. No. It had more to do with the fact that he was almost fond of the delusional kid who has taken upon himself to ruin his one-hour peace almost every other day. Never depending on early mornings or late evenings, but just whenever he wanted to, he came to meet Shah to tell him about new explanation he came up with after his episodes. Well, episodes for Shah and others, the young man thought of them as the memories of the two years of his life that he has forgotten.

Shah had found the young man very interesting back then when he had met him for the very first time. But nowadays, it was becoming boring, so tiring and Shah could feel nothing but frustration over the inability of the young man to move on from those two years.

Could this guy go on just for one week without torturing me with his overactive imagination? Shah thought as he sat down on his chair.

If there was anyone else in the room, apart from the two, they would have said that the guy dressed in white, standing still with his arms wrapped around his chest with his eyes fixed on the floor, was as emotionless as his face indicated him to be. But Shah wasn't anyone, he had been subjected to these kinds of intrusions many times from past three years - by the same young man - to not notice the tapping feet, fists clenched tightly and arms wrapped around the chest, the young man was it all to hold himself together.

He could mask everything well, though, Shah would give him some credit. He recognized the turmoil behind the impassive face and still body only because he had studied the young man long enough to point out, it also had to do with the fact that whenever greatly disturbed, the young man didn't attempt to mask things from Shah as well as he did around others.

"Come sit," he invited the younger one to sit on one of the chairs on the other side of the desk.

Resting his elbows on the desk, Shah waited, knowing very well that the impatient soul now sitting in front of him won't take long to open up. After all, looking at the wrinkled white shirt that the young man was wearing, Shah knew that the young man must have had another sleepless night, without a doubt.

Shah could only imagine what the young man, in his twenties now, would have been before, in his teens; wild yet determinant, arrogant but kindhearted, that's what the father of the young man told him his kid had been before his accident in which he nearly lost his life. And now he was reduced to a broken man who desperately wanted his illusions to be real. Who, now was sitting in front of him, was probably wishing nothing more than to have finally found something which proved "She" was real.

Shah looked up at the clock which indicated that it has been ten minutes, ten minutes of complete silence, without a word from the young man who had entered in his office as if his life depends on talking to him, as soon as possible. Shah knew, whatever it is this time around, it must be very personal to the young man. With years, Shah has found out that his patient was very possessive and protective of the episodes he kept having, and why won't he? After all, he thought of them as the memories of his 'She'...

Apart from the voice of a foot tapping in restless energy, there was silence in the room, until the young man wearing wrinkled white shirt said the words he had been saying ever since Shah had met him.

"She is real. I know you won't believe me, no one does, but she is real." the young man said in a determined voice which had an undertone of absolute desperation...

'Here we go again,' Shah thought with a sigh...

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