Do you remember me, Jhilli? I am your Shoni.
One evening you were returning home after dusk. I knew you would come back by the pond. I wrapped my whole body in a black cloth and stood under the shimul tree by the pond's edge. As soon as you came close, I jumped out in front of you. You screamed in terror. I emerged from the cloth, covered your mouth, and said: Don't scream, it's me, Tapu.
That was the first time I touched your body. You stared at me for a few seconds, then ran away. When I got home, I found you crying your heart out with your head on my mother's chest. Seeing me arrive, Mother let go of you and stood up. In her hand was Father's gleaming cane. She called me over. As soon as I approached, she grabbed my hair with her left hand and began striking with the cane in her right. Your crying had stopped by then.
I felt like crying but didn't. I could have run away perhaps. I didn't. I just kept looking at you. You were staring at me with steady eyes. I was searching for a shadow of sympathy in your gaze. But I found nothing there. By then Mother had grown tired from beating me. As she let me go, she said—This Shoni just won't die! Because there was famine in the country when I was born, she used to call me 'Shoni' when she was angry.
Blood was flowing from cuts all over my body. I was numb with pain. You came close, knelt down, and asked, "Does it hurt badly?" I was amazed. Do you know why? I was studying in the city school then, while you spent your time swinging your braids and livening up the whole house. Even though you were my uncle's daughter, you stayed in our house all the time. I couldn't control my desire to see you again and again. Whenever I got the chance, I would come home. Your wonderfully calm black eyes drew me near.
What was in those eyes of yours! Whenever I looked, I could see my own shadow. I would watch secretly, thinking you didn't notice. But perhaps you did. Who knows!
I loved thinking about you. How many times I played the prince, rescuing you from demons and foreign kings! One day I saw a huge python coiled around you. I screamed "No!" in terror. My roommate asked in surprise, "What happened, Tapu?" That day I felt terribly ashamed. So I wanted to befriend you. I couldn't say anything. I would pray silently. "Let clouds gather to block the sun, let the melting clouds bring rain to this familiar world of mine." So when I heard sympathy in your voice that day, I forgot my pain in amazement. I said, "Believe me, I don't want to be your curse." You burst into tears.
Jhilli, that day I earned your love through blood debt. Since then I've only been repaying that debt. But I never got you, did I!
One evening I was sitting by the pond, throwing pebbles into the calm water. The water would ripple and dissolve as it reached the shore. It was quite beautiful to watch. The fertility of solitude surrounded everything. The luminous twilight played its games of light. They burn but don't scorch. Suddenly I felt the touch of soft hands on my eyes. The pleasure of that touch revealed who you were. As you sat beside me, I caught the scent of sweet lime. Tell me, Jhilli, did you rub sweet lime all over your body? Tell me honestly? Otherwise why would I always catch that familiar fragrance when you came near?
You asked while plucking grass—"What were you doing?"
"Watching the trembling in your eyes."
You looked at my face in surprise. Then you said softly, "Cruel." Your eyes glittered in twilight's last light. I kissed those eyes gently. Darkness fell all around. I held your chin and said, "Listen, Jhilli, what if this silent darkness were the world's only language?" Hearing this, you lowered your face. Did the shadow of some fear fall across your eyes then? I wanted to call you by some tender school's name, or perhaps some simple river's name. I put my mouth close to your ear and called softly—"Wife!"
You ran away.
I was too foolish to imagine that you would escape from my life this way too. You did well to run away. Otherwise you would have had to bear the burden of a crippled man today!
You used to close your eyes whenever you saw someone disabled. I knew you were afraid. Would you be afraid of me now too? Never mind. I don't want to bring clouds to your bright life like this today.
It's winter in London now, isn't it? Lots of snow I suppose? When it snowed with rain, you would force me out into the field. Your enthusiasm for collecting snow made me happy. You would run around the entire field like an innocent child. If I didn't run, your face would immediately cloud over. You looked terribly beautiful when angry, believe me! Just for this, I deliberately sat still many times. You thought it was pride. You would get angry and try to leave. I would shout loudly—"Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn!" You would turn around and giggle. Looking this way and that, you would gently wrap your arms around my neck and say—"No, I can't stay angry with you."
"Then give me a kiss."
"Oh my...!" Your eyes and face would turn red with embarrassment. Moonlight would descend over your entire body. I would float away in that flood of moonlight.
That time it snowed heavily with the rain. The entire field turned white. I remember, you didn't run at all that day. You walked slowly beside me. You looked very serious. At one point you stopped and said softly—"Our life will be this pure, this sacred."
I suddenly said—"Or slippery and vanishing like snow."
You startled and touched my body, saying—"Why wouldn't it be? Then I would be hurt!"
I felt you were growing up.
Jhilli, do you still feel hurt? When the snow falls softly, do you still think life is pure and sacred like that snow? Whose life? Yours, mine, or your husband's?
Once after getting soaked with you, I came down with a terrible fever. I fell unconscious. I don't remember exactly how long. Suddenly something fell on my cheek and I woke up. I saw you leaning over, crying silently. As soon as I opened my eyes, you burst into tears. Your body trembled with wild emotion. Unable to control yourself, you buried your face in my chest.
"Tapu, I won't let you get soaked in rain anymore." "Then I'll be hurt too!" I said. You stared at me wide-eyed. You had truly grown up!
Countless stars suddenly blazed there. The map of your face changed. The transcendent light of love bloomed. Believe me, Jhilli, in that moment you seemed luminous, an empress!
Even today when I close my eyes, I see that you. Among all memories, among all sorrows. Even knowing I won't find you, I open my eyes and look. I see no one anywhere. Only sighs remain.
You were terribly afraid of war. You hated it too. Whenever there was trouble in the city, you would come to Mother again and again for news about me—I heard later. Thinking that anxiety cast shadows in your big black eyes for my sake made me feel good. Pride in love would be born in my heart.
The liberation war had begun in the country then. My hands itched to kill enemies. When I told you, you trembled. I had never seen the collapse of green earth before—I saw it that day. The pain of empty noon harbors bloomed on your face, night waters, the heart's weeping. Still you didn't cry, you silently walked away from me. You knew that stopping me would diminish you; yet I lacked the strength to ignore you.
My heart wept constantly for you. Sometimes I thought I should abandon everything and return. Rest my head on your lap and say, "This is my Bangladesh!"
No, I couldn't! Your love itself would wake me up. When I came before you after the war having lost both legs, you were strangely calm. I was amazed. At one point you put your mouth close to my ear and said softly—"No legs, so what! I am here!"
Jhilli, that day I wept. Not from the grief of losing my leg, but from the wealth of your love.
I loved you. That's why I had no choice but to walk away from you. They say you sat by mother's side all day, crying. You thought me a coward, thought me heartless, didn't you? Believe me, Jhilli, I wanted to return to you again and again. I couldn't. Though you didn't understand, I knew that love alone doesn't make a home. Life isn't just love. So to be a man, I had to play the coward.
It's quite late now. In the infinite solitude of the sky, the touch of moist air brushes against my body, bit by bit. You know, each time the wind makes me shiver, I see your face. Jhilli, you were like a tremor absorbed into my very being. You were one with my flesh.
My time is nearly up. During the war, a bullet struck the left side of my chest. No one could have imagined the wound it created inside. A little while ago, the doctor said it has grown much larger now; it will grow even more. There's nothing to be done!
Jhilli, today I too want nothing more. In whispers, I say just one thing—you must stay well!