- Samy, your phone's been off for two days. I couldn't even send a message. What's wrong with you? - Madhurima, I haven't been able to write anything for days now. I wrote a single line the morning before yesterday, and since then—nothing. Not a word, not a melody. Nothing fits together anymore! God. I just want to die. - What kind of talk is this, Samy? - I have nothing but this song. I know nothing else, can do nothing else. Take away this one song and I'm nobody—just some kid off the street. If my song doesn't touch people's hearts, then I won't even touch my own. I'll burn myself to ash. - Why are you doing this, Samy? Everything will be fine. Look, tell me—can a man who creates, who's an artist, really say such things? Give yourself some time. Not every day brings words or melodies. Keep trying. Give yourself a little more time. It will all work out. Send me a message this evening. At twelve minutes past nine that night, a message from Samy reached Madhurima's phone. - Madhurima, I don't know what—some kind of strength flows into me from your words. Maybe your hand in my creation runs deeper than my own. I've finished the piece. I've set it to music too. Once the recording is done, you'll be the first to hear it. Tell me, what do you want as a gift for the new year? - Will you really give me whatever I ask for? - Yes, I will. - Then tell me: are both the art and the artist mine? - Yes. Everything is yours. - I love you. - I know. - Don't you love me? - I'll answer you through the songs. It was late by the time I got home that day. Mother looked at me with a sideways glance. Before I could say anything, my little brother Shoeb came running. He said, "Auntie, look—Ashfaq bhai's here." I stepped into the drawing room and there he was. I was quite surprised! Ashfaq is my only maternal cousin. A lively, vibrant sort of person. I'd heard he'd recently finished his master's in psychology. He studied at Rajshahi University. He lives in Savar with my aunt. He never used to visit our home. Not once in five or six years. He's terribly shy, a man of few words, somewhat antisocial too. Otherwise, how does someone live so close to their aunt's house and wait six years before visiting? And he must have come for some reason. - Well, well, how are you, Shila? How's life? - I'm fine, Bhai. How are you? - I'm well. Look, Mother sent all these cakes and sweets for you. She was making them and saying, "Our Safa"—that's my mother's name—"loves eating sweets but can't make them. Oh, if only I could be close enough to make them for her!" And then she started crying like a child. I had to bring these sweets over today because of all that. I saw Mother smiling at this. "Did you see what your uncle did?" As she said this, Mother looked almost playful, almost girlish. - Yes, I saw. That's exactly what I'm saying—Ashfaq Bhai is such a dutiful person. He wouldn't just come visiting for no reason. - Ha ha ha. Is that so? You've learned quite a bit, haven't you? - I'm just telling the truth.
# Translation
Over there, Mother urged me on. “Go on now, wash up and freshen yourself. We’ll eat together.” I went to my room. Madhur’s words began circling in my head again. What would become of her? And what was I supposed to do here? What should I actually be doing? By the time we finished dinner together, it was half past nine. My brother said, “Aunty, I have the habit of having tea or coffee at night. But I’ll manage that trouble myself.” I said, “Yes, brother, I’m really hurt to hear that. We don’t even prepare tea or coffee at home!” My brother laughed loudly. He said, “So Shila has become quite the talker, has she? Let’s see how well you make the tea. Ha ha ha…”
Right after dinner finished, I made tea and went to the guest room.
“Hey, what’s all this formality? Come in, you unripe fruit of a woman!”
“Oh! That’s quite good, isn’t it! I’ll make you coffee tomorrow. How’s that?”
I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t hear. Brother called out loudly.
“Oi, Shila!”
“Yes, yes!”
“What are you thinking about so much? What’s wrong? Is there some problem?”
“No, brother. Nothing.”
Though I kept feeling I should tell someone everything. I couldn’t carry this burden anymore. But could I really tell Ashfaq brother about all this? What would he understand about it? Besides, he’s come visiting. Would it be right to burden him with all this? Yet he doesn’t seem as serious as before. He seems like a very friendly person.
“Tell me, how far has your friend’s love affair progressed?”
“Yes, brother, what are you saying? How did you know?”
“I know, I know everything. Ha ha ha. Look, I just threw out a guess and it landed. Come on, tell me. Don’t be afraid. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Brother, my friend is Madhurima. She’s in love. She’s becoming a terrible person, day by day. I think I’m getting dragged into trouble along with her too. Can you help me, brother?”
“How? If it’s not too personal, you can share it with me.”
I told brother everything, one thing after another. Ashfaq brother listened in silence. In some places he asked probing questions. After staying quiet for a long time, brother said, “I’ve only seen lovers like this in movies, plays, or stories. I can’t even imagine that such a lover actually exists in this world. Shila, for some reason I feel that this whole thing is resting on some very small mistake that none of us are noticing. Again and again I have a feeling that something bad will come of this.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying at all, brother.”
“Shila, you really don’t understand a lot of things. If you kept your eyes and ears open, you’d understand the real story yourself.”
“What is the real story, brother?”
“It’s gotten very late today. You go, get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Yes, brother. Alright, I’m going.”
# Morning
Mother’s call woke me at dawn. I came downstairs slowly. When I reached the bottom, I was startled to find Madhurama sitting there, chatting with Mother.
“Madhu, what are you doing here so early?”
Mother said, “Sheila, what kind of question is that? She can come to this house whenever she wants. Take her to your room. I’ll send breakfast up shortly.”
I took Madhu upstairs. The moment I locked the door, she said, “Sheila, I… I’ve left home.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“Yes, my mother doesn’t want to see my face. She told me to leave the house last night, and I was gone by morning. Tell me if it’s inconvenient—I can make other arrangements. Here’s the funny part: I didn’t even bring clothes with me. Just walked out in what I’m wearing. Hee hee hee…”
I really don’t understand Madhu sometimes. The way she talks about such serious troubles, you’d think nothing had happened at all.
“Why would it be inconvenient for me? But how long do you think you can keep running?”
“I don’t know. Listen, I haven’t been able to sleep properly for days. When I try to sleep, I just see her. The entire dream is full of her—everything revolves around her. Whether I’m awake or asleep, it’s just her, her, her. How does that sound?”
“Are you sure you’re alright, Madhu? I’m really scared for some reason.”
“How strange! Am I a ghost that you’re so afraid? Listen, you need to do two things for me. First, find me a table somewhere quiet, away from everything. And second, get me a sleeping pill—one milligram. I’ll do some writing, and then I’ll sleep deeply.”
“Where am I supposed to get sleeping pills? What are you saying?”
“Why do you always get scared so easily, Sheila? Look, I’m sure if you search Aunty’s medicine cabinet, you’ll find some sleeping pills. Old people always have them. Come on! And bring tea when you come back. I’ll have tea. Tell Aunty I don’t want breakfast. Go now, hurry.”
Madhu practically pushed me out of the room. From outside, I told her she could use either of the two tables as she liked. I had no choice but to go into Mother’s room, my body trembling with fear. What if I get caught? Though Mother was in the kitchen now. Still, I was terrified.
I rummaged through the medicine cabinet but couldn’t figure out which one was the sleeping pill. What was I supposed to do? Wait—could I ask Ashfak? I’d already told him everything anyway.
I took the medicine box to Ashfak’s room and knocked.
“You, up so early?”
I told him everything that had happened since morning, one thing after another.
“Ashfak bhaiya, I’m really scared now. Not only is Madhurama behaving so strangely, but the fact that she’s run away from home… if Mother finds out, she’ll throw me out too.”
“Ha ha ha…”
“You’re laughing?”
“Sheila, this isn’t a time to be scared. You need to keep your head. Keep calm now.”
Ashfak spent a long time searching and actually found a sleeping pill in the cabinet. “Here, give her two of these.”
“Two? Why two?”
“Just do what I’m telling you.”
I came into the room with the medicine and tea and found Madhú writing. I noticed she’d brought along several small diaries with her. She kept switching between them—jotting something in one, then moving to another. *Had Madhú lost her mind?*
Here, tea and medicine. Madhú drank the tea first, then took both tablets without asking a single question. I didn’t say anything either—just went off to bathe.
When I came out of the bath, I found Madhú asleep. How strange! Had she fallen asleep so quickly? As I draped the sheet over her, I got a good look at her face. She looked like some sleeping goddess. And yet this girl was—
I heard Mother’s voice calling from downstairs. Calling me to eat. I managed to slip past the dining room and hurried to Ashfaq’s room.
“Brother, she’s sleeping!”
“Good. Now it’s your turn. Everything from now on is your responsibility. Go get all her writings, her diaries, everything she brought with her—bring it all to me.”
“Why should I do that? I came to you for help getting Madhú and me out of this filthy mess. If you can’t help, just say no. There’s no point poking around in her private things.”
“To help, I need to understand what’s happening. Her writings might tell me something, though I’ve already guessed a lot. But guessing won’t get us anywhere. Still, if you say no, I’ll drop the whole thing.”
“No, brother, please. Help me. I can’t take this anymore. I’ll try to get them from the room. But what if she wakes up?”
“She won’t. Don’t worry. I’ve given her a strong dose.”
“God, brother! What are you saying? What if something happens to her?”
“Leave that to me. Nothing will happen. People don’t die from sleeping pills—she’ll just sleep longer. Now go, do what needs to be done.”
I went to the room and found Madhú indeed in deep sleep. Without wasting time, I gathered all her papers, notebooks, diaries, and both her mobile phones, and brought them to Ashfaq’s room.
We began reading through everything, one piece after another. So many writings, so many verses, poems. Had Madhú been doing nothing but this all day and night?
In one diary, I found verses like these—
*I’m telling you plain and clear today,
that the man who calls me soft—isn’t he tougher than I in every way?*
*Day after day runs out like clockwork…perfectly regular,
while I’m stuck where I was, so orderly…so utterly singular.*
*In watercolor and wounded pride I paint only tears all day,
do you know I cry alone in the dead of night, even when you stay?*
*My heart spills into my eyes, words break through,
but what’s the use? Has anyone ever truly read me through?*
*And even if someone did, what gain would that bring?
Like crows and sparrows, I too can only sing one song, one thing.*
*How shall I bind this heart, tell me,
knowing full well blood will spill for you still, if I should try to set it free?*
*My mind weeps, my body weeps, only my eyes cannot cry,
search the whole world over—you’ll never find what I’ve found, though you try.*
I open another diary and find some Hindi scribbled in Bengali letters—likely what they call poetry, shaayari.
‘We loved you so much, with boundless affection,
Now all I can do is pray that you stay safe.’
‘Let me leave behind some stories in this life,
So that your name might become a book upon them.’
‘So much pain dwells in my heart,
If only I could love like I did in youth!
I live only for you,
Otherwise I’d have left this world long ago!’
‘Do you not wish to know what peace is?
See how our lips touch, how I forget
The entire world when you’re near!’
‘Even my anklets know your name,
Yet you point fingers at my love?’
‘I arranged a gathering in the garden of my heart,
A gathering made only for you,
How tragic that those who had no place to go came,
But you—you alone could not be there!’
‘In the dark nights my heart cries out to you, a sound you never let me share,
Perhaps it’s better this way—God spares me from seeing you go.’
‘Why did you let go of my hand as soon as the wind changed direction?
Did you forget how, on the very first day we met, I bound myself to you?’
—Sheila, your friend really does seem to write songs. How else could she have written so much!
This time I got my hands on her black personal diary—the one Madhu had gotten angry about when anyone touched it. I opened it too, partly out of compulsion, mostly out of sheer curiosity.
There were all sorts of things written in there as well. Flipping through to the end, we found what Madhu had written: ‘Samya, I know you say there’s really no one like me. But I don’t let anyone know that I know this. Everyone thinks I’m mad. No one believes that I love you. Yes, it’s true you don’t love me back; how could you, when you don’t even know that someone named Madhurima exists in this world? But I love you! Why must I prove the truth to everyone by appearing before you in the flesh? What explanation must I give, tell me? These days I don’t even know if the world is turning, or the sun, or if it’s me spinning! I don’t know where it all ends. I’ve lost all control over myself. Tell me—am I fading away physically too? Then how will I listen to your songs? How will I touch the melodies, Samya?’
Reading this far, I felt a tremendous jolt. So it was all Madhu’s imagination! All her behaviour, her writings, everything—was it all just wandering in the realm of fantasy?
My brother said, ‘Now check her two phones.’
I hurried to check both her mobile phones. This time I received an even bigger shock.
I checked the call list and message list—both numbers belonged to her! One was her personal number, the other she’d saved in the first phone under the name ‘Samy’. Which meant Madhu had been messaging herself, calling herself, and replying to herself from another phone—making it look to anyone watching like messages from Samy. That café day suddenly flashed back into my mind. That’s why Madhu had hidden this phone in the folds of her saree that day, keeping her hand tucked away!
God, I couldn’t think about anything else. Ashfaq bhai said, ‘Do you understand now, Shila? Have I managed to explain what’s really going on?’
– Yes, but bhai, how did you figure all this out before me?
– I’d made quite a few guesses the first day I heard your story. And I only had to make one inquiry about Samy Chowdhury to piece the whole thing together. He was a student at our university, so it was easy to check.
– What was that?
– Shila, Samy hasn’t even been in the country. He and his wife have both been in India for nearly a year and a half.
– Then how did I see him at our university’s program just a few days ago?
– Yes, you did see him. In a year and a half, he’s only come back to the country for one day—that’s when he did the program at your place, because he’s an alumnus of Rajshahi University.
Hearing it all, my body went numb. I sat on the sofa for a long time. I couldn’t think about anything. It suddenly struck me—how could Madhu have acted like this with me? How? I trusted her so much… I mean, I did.
After a while, I went back to my room. Evening was almost here. Madhu was still asleep. I picked up the phone and saw that aunty—Madhu’s mother—had called six times. When I called her back, she broke down crying, saying they couldn’t find Madhu. When she heard Madhu was at my place, aunty seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I told her, ‘Let her stay here today. I’ll send her back tomorrow.’ Then I hung up.
That night I called Madhu several times, but she didn’t wake. She’d been sleeping like that since that morning. She’d gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, stumbling, almost falling to the floor. It must have been the aftereffects of an overdose. I didn’t go to help her. I felt numb somehow. I couldn’t feel anything for her.
The next morning, Madhu got up, packed her things, and left for home. Her body was trembling—she wasn’t fully recovered yet, you could tell. But I didn’t stop her. I didn’t say a word to her as she left.
After lying down for a while, I sat up. Ma called from downstairs; I didn’t answer. I saw Ashfaq bhai had brought breakfast to my room.
– How are you, Shila?
– I’m fine.
– Don’t fall apart like this, okay?
I didn’t say anything else.
That night, after the whole day had passed, a message came from Madhu: ‘I’m sorry, I just showed up at your place and made things awkward for you.’
I didn’t reply. After that, she called a few times, but I didn’t pick up. I felt like it was better not to stay in touch with Madhu anymore.
The days were slipping by in their ordinary way, as days do. I was slowly returning to normal, attending classes regularly. The only thing I’d done was cut off all contact with Madhu. I wouldn’t answer her calls, wouldn’t even read her messages. Meanwhile, Ashfaq Bhai wanted to leave every day, but we’d insist he stay. Nearly eight days passed like this.
Then one afternoon, while having tea, Mother suddenly asked about Madhu. I dodged the question skillfully. Once I was back in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Our childhood, college days—everything came flooding back. I felt such tenderness for her, though I couldn’t say why. On impulse, I called her number. It was off. I tried again the next morning. Still off. Then I called Masima. Kabya picked up. I could hear her crying.
“Shila-di, now you decide to call? You couldn’t come even once?”
“Kabya, why are you crying, what’s happened?”
“Madhu-di is gone. She killed herself the night before last. She’s dead.”
Then the line went dead.
Had I heard that right? What had Kabya just said?
I ran to Ashfaq Bhai’s room. I dragged him with me straight to Madhu’s house. When we got there, I saw Madhu’s father and grandfather sitting silently on one side of the stairs. From the prayer room, I could hear Masima’s sobs. Inside the house, a few people sat scattered about, but no one was speaking. So Madhu really had…?
Kabya saw me and ran over, tears streaming down her face, clutching several sheets of paper. Suicide notes. Written by Madhu. I read them.
**Madhu’s Suicide Note – 1:**
*Mother, I’ve gone under so you can all rise up. I came, and you’ve killed off love itself to preserve your religion and caste for eternity. Be well, all of you.*
**Madhu’s Suicide Note – 2:**
*Samya, I love you. I’m no Kadambari Devi whose suicide note the whole world will know about. Oh, if only I could have told just you—only you—about my existence and my death in this whole wide world! One day, Samya, we’ll surely meet again.*
**Madhu’s Suicide Note – 3:**
*Shila, I’m leaving. I’ve killed myself. Don’t misunderstand me. Forgive me if you can.
In some other birth…
Be rain, why don’t you?
Carry away in your waters
All of God’s purposeless creations!*
I stood frozen. I couldn’t cry, though my chest felt impossibly heavy. By the gate, I asked Ashfaq Bhai, “What has happened, Bhai? How could this happen?”
“Shila, love and art know no boundaries. My only regret is that Madhurimaa died and revealed her lover’s soul to everyone, but never let a soul know about her artist’s soul.”
“Bhai, can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you really not know Madhurimaa before?”
“Shila, come. Let’s go inside. You should be with them right now.”
Suddenly Ashfaq Bhai said, “Shila, you go in. I’m going to have a cigarette. My head is pounding,” and he quickly left through the gate.
**P.S.** *For the readers, I’ve provided the sense and meaning of the poetry in these notes.*
# তরজমা
(১) I loved you so much, with a love without measure,
Now all I ask of Him is this one prayer—
that He keeps you safe, keeps you well.
(२) Come, let us leave behind some stories in this life of ours,
so that when we go beyond, your name might become a book for us to write.
(३) How much sorrow lives in this heart of mine—
if only I could bring it down to these lips and show you!
I live only for you,
or else, long ago, I would have left this world behind.
(४) Do you want to know what peace is?
Put your lips upon mine and see—
how the whole world simply melts away.
(५) Even my ankle bells know your name,
and yet still you dare to question my love?
(६) In the courtyard of my heart, I had prepared a gathering today,
and what a shame it is—that gathering was made for you alone,
all those uninvited came and found their place,
only you, only you could not be there.
(७) On those dark nights, the cry that tears itself from my heart—
you never hear it.
Better it would have been if God had simply taken me away right then.
Translation:
Did you let go of my hand the moment the wind began to shift?
Do you know—on that very first day we met, I had already bound myself to you?