This marked the beginning of the practical phase of my life. After he left, I didn't know if anything would really happen between us. But then we stayed in touch, and he told me he would come back and marry me. Before leaving, he gave me false assurances, saying he would return to take exams or start studying there. I accepted it, though I wondered—if he couldn't study here, how would he manage there!
My sister is a doctor now; back then she was studying medicine. Seeing the care and attention my parents lavished on her stirred something tender in me toward them. I convinced myself: no, I wouldn't cause them pain, couldn't bear to hurt them—I'd rather die first. I explained to him that I had to study, because my family had no money, only education to offer. That's when whatever sense I had kicked in! After he went abroad, he said, "How is it possible now?" When I asked how it could work, he would say, "Oh, it'll work out, I'll convince your father."
I used to think: what kind of person—I mean, my father is working so hard to educate me, doesn't he want to give his daughter to an educated man? That maturity was working in me then. Abbu and Ammu were giving so much, constantly giving; even if they made shoes from my skin, I could never repay their debt. He had gone to live with his uncle, but their treatment of him didn't match his expectations, there were misunderstandings, and his uncle wouldn't let him come back to the country.
Toward the end of my Intermediate, my uncles, aunts, and cousins created enormous problems, leading to a massive conflict in our family. They laid hands on Abbu. They tried to kill him, made a physical attempt. If we hadn't been there, Abbu wouldn't be with us today. They forcibly occupied our property, and after beating Abbu, they wouldn't even let us take him to the hospital. Such a barbaric scene—the very society whose people Ammu used to tell me stories about, those same people just stood there gaping at that pitiful sight, listening to our cries. Later the police came and arrested them.
The conflict with them had been ongoing, but over the past year their relationship had somewhat improved because they used Abbu to solve various land disputes and for his influence. They maintained good relations for that reason. On the day they tried to kill Abbu, my cousin said, "Why did you girls come here? Do you think you can take us on?" When I went to save Abbu, all I could think was: today they're going to kill him.
My father had raised them with care since they were small. Abbu loved his brother, but in return got only cruelty. Abbu is very simple-natured. I'm not saying this just because he's my father—I'm judging him as a human being.
Now let me talk about the transformative part of my life. I had some faint belief that I might amount to something in life, but I wasn't fully confident. I studied commerce. My target was to become an accountant or fashion designer. When I witnessed their barbaric behavior, I felt so insignificant! I thought: why were we victimized today? Because I'm a girl? No, I can't accept this humiliation. I have to become very powerful. One day I'll show them who they messed with. Then they won't dare do such things again. I will answer back! I took the public exam but didn't pass. Thinking about power, it occurred to me to study law—I'll become someone great. Then I got admission to study law at IIUC.
My aunt mockingly said, "Oh my, one doctor and now a lawyer! We won't be able to stay in this house!" I silently thought that day: may your words come true. I mean, may we become something. At home, neither Abbu nor Apu supported my studying this, but Ammu did. With Ammu's support and my own determination, I completed my honors and master's by August 2019.
My thoughts about that earlier relationship had changed somewhat. I was deeply feeling that I had to remove those thoughts from my mind—thoughts that were only about him, about decorating a home and having children. Now I think: I have to stand up, I have to become great, I have to answer for this humiliation. Now the question might arise: why did I change so much? My maternal cousins, whose property and everything Abbu manages, didn't come forward to help us. Instead, my cousin brothers pursued Abbu because Apu was studying medicine and Abbu had gained quite a reputation.
Apu is a brilliant student. My relatives used to look at us sideways, questioning why we studied, why we progressed; they discriminated against us at any family gathering. It hurt so much, though we weren't lacking in money. Just because we were girls and they had boys, everyone gravitated toward them. It was very painful. We lived in that house with great difficulty. Finally, due to my uncle and aunt's persecution, we were forced to sell that house and move elsewhere.
I was getting very angry with the person from my previous relationship. He could have listened to me if he wanted, but he didn't. I had resolved not to proceed further. I had to prioritize my family, I told him. Well, if he doesn't think about my family's honor, I have to; he pressures me, but I can't hurt them. I was thinking: I know I can't marry him, so why am I still involved! It was very painful for me to change myself. But I had to change—that was also working in my mind. Our conversations continued. I tried to make him understand, but he wouldn't. When I said I couldn't maintain the relationship, he pressured me, his health deteriorated; he said he was in a very bad state. This went on.
My honors coursework increased, assignments and classes multiplied—altogether quite busy days. That earlier spirit of becoming powerful had diminished. Studies continued, I had no boyfriend. I was connected with some batch-mates on Facebook. We didn't talk much. Around 2014, in the third semester, we had Constitutional Law. I understood little because I hadn't attended classes. Not getting good notes from the girls, I searched for and messaged batch-mates, including the one I'd had a relationship with (the second person). He had sent me a request, or I had sent him one—I don't quite remember. Whether he helped me then or not, I don't quite remember either. After that, we didn't really talk much until late 2017.
In 2018, Apu married a doctor who had been recommended in the 39th BCS. Around late 2017, my current he started messaging me, saying hi and hello. I addressed him informally as a friend. As a friend, he would joke around—where we lived, you could get sugarcane juice in winter. He kept saying, "The juice over there is really good, bring me some, please." He kept insisting. I gave him juice and payesh at the terminal near our girls' campus in Bohoddarhat. That day he looked at me strangely, I mean from head to toe. I didn't like the way he looked. I quickly handed over the items and left. I told myself I'd never make such a foolish mistake again—what a worthless guy!
I wear a burqa and had covered my face with the hijab so thoroughly that I wouldn't catch his attention. After I left, he called. He said my name and said, "Listen, the juice and payesh were wonderful, but you looked like an aunt." I said, "Alright, that's good." I didn't contact him after that. I understood then that he wasn't a good person.
He would call me after long intervals. I was in the hostel then with my roommate. When he called, I would answer as a friend. One thing was very annoying. When he called, he would ask about my roommate—what she was doing, how she was. I felt strange about it. Anyway, since I considered him a friend, I didn't think about it too deeply. (Later I understood why he acted that way.)
At the end of 2017, he messaged me out of the blue. How was I, where was I, blah blah blah! Since I never posted photos on Facebook, he hadn't seen me. But he'd taken pictures with my friends—I'd seen them on their walls. From then on, he kept trying to get a little closer to me, though I didn't take it all that seriously at the time. Chatting and joking around with him on Facebook somehow felt good. Even though his past behavior had seemed a bit off to me, I found myself liking the man despite everything. He wrote—posted his writing on his Facebook wall. I really loved this art of his, his writing.
He seemed somehow wise to me. I felt insignificant in front of him. He had another art, which I'd call a trap. Yes, a trap—one he'd used to win over many girls' hearts. His power of persuasion was so strong, so strong that anyone would surrender before him. He'd present himself with such beautiful, beautiful arguments that it was beyond words. He was a voracious reader, I mean a true book lover. When a person presents himself so beautifully, speaks so beautifully, when you see logic in his writing, logic in his arguments too—then unconsciously, everyone would fall in love with him.
He texted, and I texted back on Facebook. Then suddenly one day he said, why don't we move to WhatsApp, talk there? I said, why? What's wrong with texting here? No reason; let's just do it there. I didn't mind; I said, alright, fine. So he messaged me on WhatsApp. Gradually our conversations deepened. I was still thinking of everything as just friendship though. I kept birds at the time. I'd post pictures of my birds, there was a little swing next to them. He was amazed seeing these hobbies of mine—I used to make many things for my own use. I'd post pictures of everything, and he'd praise me. I planted trees, I cooked. He praised me for everything. He stayed at his grandmother's house. Before going to his own home, he'd ask my permission—should I go home?
I was puzzled. What the hell! Why would anyone ask my permission! He always did this, and I'd give my consent. Somehow he was drawing me closer. I couldn't figure it out—I felt strangely restless! What was happening? At that time I was still talking to the first guy, though much less. About the second guy—I had two close girlfriends, very close ones, but I hadn't told them either. The reason was, I was confident I wouldn't get involved with the second guy. They knew about the first guy; they knew that relationship was in its final phase too. The second guy was connected to the closer of my two friends on Facebook. I knew this too...but I never asked my friend about him.
The second guy was learned and scholarly, true enough, but he used negative words constantly in conversation. I wasn't taking this too seriously then, because he was just my friend. I was cutting him slack as a friend—never mind, it's his nature, that's why he talks like this. When he said something inappropriate, I'd get really angry. One day we had a huge fight over some negative conversation. I didn't take his calls that day. He'd gone to Saint Martin, and kept calling me over and over. I was in a foul mood; I said, why do you say things I hate? He asked for forgiveness, but kept doing it anyway. Then I said, you'll never change. He rode a bike, never wore a helmet. He'd send me photos. I'd be scared to death. I'd scold him angrily, saying I wouldn't text him anymore. Why didn't you wear that on your head!
One day he went on a university tour. He texted me, listen, everyone's smoking, should I try some too? I said, no, you can't; these things are bad for your health. You won't smoke, understand! Once when he was cooking rice, he called me and said, listen, I don't know how to cook rice; help me. I explained everything in detail. Like this, I don't know when he stole my heart, though I still thought of him as just a friend.
He looked for juice again, so I went and left juice and payesh at a shop for him. One day I was out, talking to him on the phone. He made me stop and took one look at me that day. He seemed somehow different. The funny thing was, when I stopped the rickshaw, I saw he was there too; I got down as well. The rickshaw driver had stopped, and after he left, the driver said to me, "Sister, can I say something, don't mind me. This boy seems married to me." I said to him, "Why do you think that?" "I can't say everything, sister. You better not tell him, or he'll stop my rickshaw and beat me up."
I had asked him, so you're married? Why would he say that, there must be some reason. He laughed hearing this. Didn't say a word. He knew about the first guy though—I'd told him long ago that I had a relationship, and there were problems now. Since he was trapping me, he never once asked, "What's the situation with your previous relationship now?"
Anyway, when our WhatsApp conversations began, he told me we'd use 'tumi' from now on. I said, why? I'll use 'tui.' Even so, he wouldn't let me call him 'tui.'