Harpinder Shaw woke up to his alarm clock going off again. He reached over and turned it off, getting a good stretch in. For a minute, life was peaceful as he couldn't remember any of the unusual events of the past two days. Still under the covers, he reached for his phone and unlocked it. The phone opened right back up to Facebook, where he closed it last night on the photo of his family.
Harpinder examined the photograph. There was his mother, the short but stern woman wearing a dupatta, standing beside his father, an imposing man in stature. His turban and enormous beard only added to his physical presence, even though it was visible that his beard was graying. To each side of his parents stood one child, himself by his father and Ravdeep by their mother. The photo was a little old, the two men had significantly thinner facial hair than what they sported nowadays, but you could see their close familiar relation. Everyone was smiling too, even his father. He really was a gentle giant.
Harpinder's mind suddenly jolted awake as he remembered why he'd been looking at that photo in the first place. This picture wasn't the same one as last night! He tried to picture the old photo in his head, but could only imagine his big Punjabi father and his stern but loving mother. His brother was in all of his mental imagery too. He knew it was wrong, but couldn't piece together exactly why it was.
His phone buzzed suddenly, taking him out of his headspace. He got the notification that there was a text from his mother. A bit stressed out, he opened the app, only to see that the entire contents of the text were in the Gurmukhi script. Despite recognizing the script, which didn't strike Harpinder as odd at all, he couldn't read the text. Frustrated, he tossed his phone at the bed beside him and decided to get up. He still had school today, no matter what. He quickly tied a patka around his head to cover his hair, and grabbed a towel, going to the showers.
Harpinder stepped in a stall of the dorm shower and undid his patka and towel, hanging them outside. He let the hot water flow over his body, contemplating this morning. He couldn't shake the idea that something was wrong. Maybe he'd talk to his brother about it. He decided that maybe it was best to just take a few minutes to calm down in the shower's hot water. As the hot water flowed over his body, he failed to notice as his skin took on a darker tan color, a rich brown to match his face and hands from the Amrit Sanchar. He had a bit harder of a time than usual washing his chest and torso; as when he rubbed the soap over his body a dense covering of hairs grew out from his skin.
After his relaxing shower, Harpinder dried his hair off and rewrapped it in the patka, and put his towel over himself to walk bak to his dorm. He went back in, and approached the mirror to undo his head wrap, grabbing a blow dryer that wasn't there the day before (not that he knew) and drying his long hair as he went through it with the wooden comb. Soon, it was dry and he found himself getting dressed. He opened his wardrobe and grabbed a pair of socks, a pair of underwear, and a turban cloth.
He examined his underwear, looking at it strangely. It seemed different. It was a very basic garment, light blue cotton with a drawstring attached in the front to tighten the waist. Still, it fit him, he noted as he pulled it over his legs. He pulled the drawstring so it sat firmly, and then put on his pants and a new polo shirt. He then put on his socks and wrapped his patka and a turban which matched his short over his head. He grabbed a bottle of beard oil and ran some through his beard, being meticulous to make sure that it sat in place and was shaped right.
Harpinder grabbed his phone off of his bed, seeing his mother's text. She had messaged him something about hoping he was feeling okay and she was a bit concerned over his mental state after last night's call. He replied in fluent Punjabi, telling her that he felt a lot better now and that he would be okay. The language and the Gurmukhi script came naturally to him now as he sent the text off to his mother. Harpinder looked at himself in the mirror again, giving himself a once over to make sure he looked presentable. Turban tied right, beard all in place, shirt tucked in, all checked off. He grabbed his bag and his keys, ready to face the school day.