Looking At Me

Looking At Me

When someone looks at you, what do you normally think?
I don’t really blame the eyes because, beholding is a free gift of nature, and they will keep beholding the enthusiastic nature of worldly attractions. For sure, not everything is appreciable towards sight; yet the beholder keeps beholding.


Professor Bush, a learned, intelligent, somehow reserved man, one of the famous critics in America was fond of taking a walk along the country-side, to sniff the aroma of rose and hibiscus in my garden. He loved my garden so much that he kept being acquainted to them. Prof. Bush was logical and diplomatic in thoughts, as awarded to him by nature; so he would always criticize every butterfly that flew-pass him.

That, I never knew too well until I met him soliloquizing, as though he had gone lunatic. His attitude in this awful monologue got my curiosity reflecting in my upstairs. The most interesting aspect of the game was; Prof. would not easily expose his thoughts to me, his best friend, and even to his wife; especially when he was visualized in an articulating manner.

“My friend, allow me to think”, Prof. said to me. He was not only seen thinking, but also jotting down some ‘untransparent’ images that seemed unimportant; but a closer look by those who possessed twin-eye, it would definitely reveal the bone behind the flesh. Sometimes, I noticed Prof in a fatherly cry, where he was suffering from inner motives which I saw through his heart in the name of abnormal-realities, proving the short come of Mother-earth.

I wondered what could be troubling my old friend. No idea came to my rescue. Consequently, he would hum to unknown tones, and I discovered that his feeling towards his actions was ‘pity to the World’. At first, I thought a tragedy had befallen him or a family member kicked the bucket.

“only God knows the dribbler of his heart” – I thought because, He refused to eat almost everyday; while Mrs. Kate his wife cried more than her lad of 3. In as much as Prof. wouldn’t eat, he kept scolding his wife concerning her artistic she was in decorating her eyelashes, eyebrow and lips.

Mrs. Kate wore makeups as one of those important house chores a lady never do without. Though she had been doing this for almost seven years of matrimonial bond with Prof; “why is my friend suddenly taking note of that now?” The question seemed for the gods. Although, my own job was to keep solving mathematics with my brother-soul, to clarify my curiosity towards Prof’s condition. Then I thought; maybe, he needed to see a psychiatric doctor because a second-delay in rescuing him is quite irrevocable.

I had to invite Doctor David to assist me heal Prof Bush: he was so much important to his brothers-Americans. Moreover, I was really conscious of the Western interrogation towards investigating matters; especially when someone of close relation is sought for. So, I tried my best to see that my friend survived such psychological trauma.

The opposite of my own Christmas day was when Doc. was ready to configure my friend’s psych: he quickly jumped off from his chair and exclaimed,

“do you think am insane? Am not”. Prof. explained that he was only feeling for the young lady next door; who, probably, Doc. Or any other should help out, as she would soon pack her things for the marketplace.

“This lady is a point of contact to all other ladies, even my wife” – Prof said.

“‘Each time I worked pass her shop, I looked at her as if she charmed me. She would usually say;

‘Sir, I pray thee, why are you looking at me?’ not knowing that my admiration was the grandma to laughter'”.

Prof took a deep breathe, fell back, sank into his armchair, and continued,

“My friends, what am trying to elucidate here is a lecture to all ladies who love to over-decorate their skin”,

I remembered the lady whom he was referring to. The one who mothered the public in exchange with money. Prof. said that he sometimes went to her restaurant to take a bottle of beer; though not from his heart, but just to give a closer look at her artificial ugly look.

Lady-P, as she was fondly called was naturally beautiful, but the makeups on her was as colorful as a chameleon. In fact, every minute of the day, she re-wore makeup to look better, not knowing that she was indirectly telling God that He isn’t perfect.

Lady P’s makeup kit was as big as uncle T’s pot-belly. Uncle-T was a plump man who took approximately two crates of beer a day in Lady-P restaurant.

Certainly, Lady-P would suffer skin diseases if she refused to resist her attitude. At first, I never knew that such appearance of Lady-P could let an innocent fellow be in a questionable state. That was just a thought of an ordinary man; until Prof. insinuated on the issue of overdose-makeup and its unmerciful approach towards our ladies’ skins – they could die young for skin cancer.

My friend at this juncture used the opportunity of feeding Doc and I wine to unleash his anger; even in lady P’s presence. Lady P’s thoughts of defending herself were shutdown by Prof’s articulated thoughts and intellectual capability. Not quite long, coincidently, Prof.’s wife, Madam Kate met us at the restaurant while he was still speaking.

There, Prof. told her his feelings towards makeup abuse, and such moment was a cool one to let his feelings out from his heavy stomach. Everyone was listening attentively to my friend and as well appreciated his teachings. To concur with Prof’s lectures, most of the ladies, if not all; who were present at the restaurant were touched. If I was allowed to run into their thoughts, I would, without doubt, swear to their repentance.

Persistently, Prof. made it clear that whoever looks at you, strangely, try to inquire the origin of the eyeing even though it seems romantic; because, some eyeing are pure unromantic.

Prof continued,

“…naturally, when you apply makeup, you have added something harmful, as may not be required by your body. Though, sometimes, makes you look like under-twenty while you are for real sixty”.

Looking behind him, Prof through his prophetic senses nosed some probable mates of his by the corner and quickly stated in a louder voice; “All teachers are meant to teach the world the good teachings, just like me, or even more than I do. Let’s try to meet that fellow in a humble spirit, not just because he or she is admiring our beauty, but the reason behind the scene. – “Please Sir/Madam, why are you looking at me?”

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