This world is a cruelly harsh place. Here, no chaste, beautiful girl reads poetry. But he never wanted to wake up and find a girl who doesn’t read poetry beside him. The strange, arrogant ego of youth. That age when everything meaningless comes forward with meanings stolen from kingdoms. Waking at six in the morning and thinking such thoughts, Choyon stretches restlessly. Kanchi still has time before she wakes. Choyon usually goes out jogging in the early morning. Today he doesn’t feel like going; his body feels sluggish. Sitting on Facebook, messaging every heartless woman one by one, he eventually grows breathless. Today all his hellos are just being seen, no replies coming. They should remove this ‘seen’ feature from Facebook. At least then when you don’t get a reply, your heart won’t break—you can assume they haven’t read the text yet. When cruel beauties don’t reply to texts, it doesn’t make you angry, it makes you sad. Looking at sleeping Kanchi, he thinks that if his own face were just a bit worse-looking, he too could have married a beautiful girl. Good-looking people don’t get to see good-looking people—that’s the rule. He once loved reading poetry. His acquaintance with Kanchi began through poetry. They were in the same recitation school. Kanchi had a lovely way of speaking, quite lovely—the kind that makes you want to fall in love just hearing her talk. Others kept saying Kanchi looked quite good beside Choyon, and somehow, over time, Kanchi and Choyon had convinced themselves of it too. But that was long ago. Much time has passed since then. Kanchi has now left poetry for stories, Choyon has left poetry for a job. Kanchi reads books all day, Choyon gets scolded by his boss all day. The benefit of Kanchi’s love for reading is that her time passes quite well throughout the day. That is, Choyon’s time. Girls who read books generally bother their husbands less. Before marriage, they had agreed that neither would give the other their Facebook password, nor would either search for it. After marriage, despite Kanchi’s persistent nagging, Choyon never shared his password with her. Kanchi, however, almost forcefully gave Choyon her password, saying, “Look, I have no weaknesses. You can enter my account and see whatever you want.” Though Choyon said aloud, “The question doesn’t even arise of entering your account!” he later did enter Kanchi’s account and understood that not being married to a beauty was actually peaceful for himself and others. A deer becomes an enemy to its own flesh. No one bothers Kanchi in her inbox, not even Choyon himself. Anyone who can chat with his own wife on Facebook must be a saint! Choyon was a saint only once—when he fell in love. Kanchi has carefully preserved those inedible poems written thinking of her. Like all wives in the world, she too possesses the ability to be amazed by any terrible talent of her husband’s. Thinking all this, Choyon makes two mugs of black coffee. He turns off the laptop and starts playing with Kanchi’s hair. Kanchi had gone to sleep without eating last night. Kanchi’s capacity to go without food for the most trivial reasons is limitless! Why, I’ll tell you.
: You know, none of Manik Bandyopadhyay’s works have any farmer characters! Isn’t that strange?
: Hmmmm……..
: Hmmmm…… meaning? Hey, tell me what you’re thinking?
: I was thinking, how does Sunny Leone just appear in movies and do such brilliant acting!
What had to happen, happened. The Kurukshetra war all over again! Women haven’t been given the capacity to digest praise of other women from the mouths of two types of men. One: their own father. Two: their own husband. Choyon has almost given up joking these days. One of his many sorrows is that though he really likes Sunny Leone, he can never tell Kanchi that. Kanchi can’t even take the smallest jokes easily. Yet before marriage, Kanchi’s sense of humor was never lacking.
Saying he had something very urgent to tell her, Choyon shook Kanchi awake. The first thing Choyon said as soon as Kanchi woke up was: You know, apparently tourism in Delhi has decreased recently because of the increase in rapes. Then he went on to give her a string of rape-related news. Kanchi suddenly screamed. Stop! Just stop it! I’m stuck with this uncivilized man! Good grief!
Choyon likes to joke around like this. The problem is, Kanchi’s tolerance has been decreasing lately. Laughing loudly enough to shake the house, Choyon extends the coffee mug toward Kanchi. The two of them come out and stand on the balcony. Standing there, they watch people heading out for their morning walks. A soft, dewy morning after a rain-soaked night in Shravan. Just then the doorbell rings. The housemaid.
They had studied at Dhaka University. Choyon in Applied Physics, Kanchi in Math. Poetry brought them together.
One evening during recitation lessons, Choyon had said to Kanchi: Come on, let’s walk in front of Shahidullah Hall in the evening and recite from Purnendu Patri’s ‘Kothopokothon.’ I’ll pay for the peanuts. They were walking along the lake. Touching Kanchi’s hair blowing in the cool breeze, breathing in its scent, Choyon began to feel that even without touching the moon’s silver shadow trapped in the clear water of the lake, one could stay content in this very moment. Kanchi was walking, kicking her feet in the air. “Hey Kanchi! Watch where you’re going! You’ll fall!” “You’re keeping watch! How could I fall?” Looking at Choyon, she felt that life could be spent lost in the dream of such a golden evening! “Why are you laughing? Tell me, why are you laughing?” ‘Kothopokothon’ was going on. As soon as Choyon said this line, Kanchi would burst into melodious laughter. Choyon deliberately kept repeating that same line over and over. Like the sound of spring water, breaking the deafening silence of evening, that laughter held Choyon spellbound that evening. Throwing small stones into the clear water of the lake, watching the ripples spread, Kanchi was talking on the phone. Suddenly, she screamed “Baba!” and collapsed onto the grass.
Some time after this, Kanchi’s family didn’t want her to continue studying at Dhaka University. After her father’s death, the family stopped sending money for her expenses. Her father taught at a primary school and had virtually no savings to speak of. Kanchi’s uncles wanted her to enroll in some college in Rajshahi. Later it came to light that they wanted to take Kanchi to Rajshahi to marry her off to a businessman’s son. Kanchi had come third in her first-year finals. All this happened just as she was about to start her second-year classes.
: You’ve decided to go to Rajshahi?
: Yes, I have to go. Ma is in a lot of trouble with my little sister. The uncles seem to be creating problems over some of Baba’s property. Ma doesn’t tell me anything though. I’ll stay by Ma’s side. Besides, the uncles have already arranged my marriage. The boy’s family is right next to ours.
: What if I said don’t go? Stay here?
: No, I’m going.
: You’ll give up your studies?
: No, I’ll continue after marriage.
: What? What are you saying? Are you out of your mind?
: I’m being perfectly reasonable. Besides, the uncles don’t like that I tutor to pay for my studies.
: What if I cover your expenses? Would you stay in Dhaka?
: You would pay? That’s out of the question! On what grounds would you pay? Where would you get the money?
: Because I love you—that’s my grounds. I’ll take on two more tutoring jobs. It’ll work out. Don’t worry about it.
: Right now, love is the lamest excuse in the world to me. I’m going. I have to go!
The very next day they have a court marriage. For a boy in his third year, it wasn’t easy at all. They go to Rajshahi. And Kanchi’s mother and little sister’s expenses would now be taken care of by Choyon—that’s the understanding he comes to with the uncles.
Choyon’s family is from Kushtia. A well-to-do family. Their household atmosphere was liberal. His grandfather had been a renowned Baul and follower of Lalon in the area. Their family easily accepts this marriage and reaches out to Kanchi’s family. This makes things easier for Choyon.
After graduation, Choyon takes a job at Pubali Bank. Senior Officer. After three and a half years of work, he rents a small place and brings Kanchi from Rokeya Hall to live at home. Kanchi has been trying for jobs. Her routine was to keep applying and then come home and sleep instead of studying. After waking up, she’d read cookbooks and watch cooking shows to make dinner, upload pictures on Facebook, count how many likes she got, see what comments people left—even if someone liked a picture of a boiled egg, she’d respond with a laughing emoji and write “thanks.” Bengali women, regardless of age, love hearing praise for their looks and cooking. In her spare time, Kanchi reads fiction. Days were passing quite pleasantly this way.
They spend their holidays teasing each other. There’s hardly any joy in the world quite like getting on your beloved’s nerves. It’s like an addiction. The only cure for it is more of the same—more teasing.
Choyon considers it his solemn duty to flirt with any beautiful girl he sees on Facebook. That’s exactly how his friendship with Chitralekha began. Her nickname is Chitra. Her husband runs a business. A new business, terrifyingly busy. The husband works at the office all day, Chitra Facebooks all day. A beautiful wife of a busy man is indeed a source of joy. A lovely wife of a busy man is a joy forever. That line isn’t Keats’s, it’s Choyon’s. Homebody wife, husband happy. Busy husband, everyone happy. How Choyon and Chitra met—I’ll get to that story later.
Back in university, Choyon noticed that girls, whether they loved them or not, gave their love to two types of boys: photographers and tailors. Choyon never had the sense required to be a photographer. But becoming a photographer isn’t all that difficult. A pearl necklace around a monkey’s neck, a DSLR strap around a photographer’s neck. Hang a DSLR around your neck, and voilà! You’re done! Everyone assumes that dangling that thing makes you a photographer. Most of Stalin’s photos show him with a cigar in his mouth. Yet he didn’t smoke cigars. None of this should make you think too much. The more you think, the more single you remain. Choyon says, I think, therefore I am single. So he had painstakingly saved up money to buy a DSLR. He bought one, and mentally decided that from now on, photography would be his passion. He announced this in his Facebook About Me too. He wrote, I live by photography, with photography, for photography. Very few girls have the beauty or courage to turn away from a photographer. This is the age of Facebook likes. The age of mesmerizing everyone with facial beauty—God-given, or camera-given. Choyon wanted someone to love him, or if not love, at least give him love. To be a photographer, you need two things: a DSLR and that photographer-photographer vibe. Choyon has both. Though when taking profile pictures for guys, the second thing tends to increase a bit—somehow it grows on its own, even when he doesn’t want it to. Most of Kanchi’s profile pictures are taken by Choyon. Kanchi had strict instructions for Choyon: apart from her, he could only photograph guys. Of course, he could also photograph birds, trees, rivers and such. So Choyon was somewhat forced to occasionally use Photoshop to lighten Kanchi’s skin tone to keep her quiet. A photographer who becomes one out of profound love for women doesn’t care much about natural views. Of course, it’s not that Choyon never photographs birds, trees, and rivers. They just end up in the background of profile pictures without being asked. Despite many fights about this, Kanchi couldn’t do anything about it.
: Brother, could you take a couple photo of us in front of this statue, please?
: Oh sure, sure!
That’s how it began. Talking with Chitra, he learned that they’d gotten married just two days before Choyon and Kanchi’s wedding. Like Choyon and Kanchi, they too had come to visit Bodh Gaya and Sarnath.
Chitra’s husband was a smart, cheerful, open-hearted man. “Brother, I’m actually your senior! I finished the marriage business two whole days before you! Hahaha…” When Choyon returned to Dhaka, he emailed Chitra the photos. How delighted Chitra was! She uploaded them to Facebook and immediately added Choyon to her friend list. Since then, their whispered exchanges had been going on. The happy thing was, Kanchi knew nothing about any of this. There’s such peace in marrying foolish girls. Even if a foolish girl is a little less beautiful, you can make up for it. Choyon’s popularity was high everywhere—at the office, outside. When someone called him a photographer, he never felt like taking it as an insult. He’d say he was an amateur photographer, photography was his hobby. Kanchi was thoroughly annoyed by this! She’d say it was all about charming girls! Choyon, of course, didn’t let such talk get under his skin. A man with such a generous heart couldn’t let everything affect him. You can’t serve other women with so much shame and bashfulness!
Going to the door, Choyon dismissed the housemaid. Today they would go on a long drive toward Ashulia. This was the easiest, most foolproof trick to manage Kanchi. Choyon couldn’t survive without irritating Kanchi. To stay alive, one must make one’s beloved cry. This was his personal theory. Choyon’s power to both please and exasperate women was limitless. A major source of this power was photography, or rather, the DSLR. Lately, Kanchi had learned a new form of punishment. When too angry, she’d actually fall asleep at night. So Choyon sometimes had to rent a car and go on long drives. Kanchi no longer seemed as foolish as before. Choyon couldn’t figure out where the problem lay. When a foolish girl stops being foolish, it becomes unbearable.
Outside, it was drizzling. In the car, Euphoria’s “Aab Na Ja” was playing on City FM. It was Kanchi’s favorite song. Just then, Choyon started playing Milind Ingle’s “O Priya” from YouTube on his Xperia Z. This was one of his many tricks for annoying Kanchi. When she was listening to a song with concentration, he’d play a different track. Even if the punishment for the sin of annoying one’s wife was going to hell, Choyon had no objection.
“Will you let me listen to the song?”
“Why? Isn’t this song beautiful?”
“Look, tell me honestly—do you listen to the song, or do you watch Preeti Jhangiani? What a worthless girl with a worthless face!” (Every woman thinks that all the women her husband likes besides her are worthless. Women can’t blame their beloved, so they dump all the blame on someone else. This inability is inherited from their mothers. Even a limping, one-eyed son is a prince to any mother.)
“Oh no no, she’s just circling the fire seven times, that’s why her glamour seems a bit diminished. She just needs one good bath and you’ll see everything’s fine—glowing! Even if you bathed your whole life, you couldn’t achieve that face.”
Fuming with rage, Kanchi snatched away Choyon’s Xperia Z and hurled it at his head.
: No girl stays with such a lowlife!
Ugh… you’re such a bad man! Really, really bad!
: You’re absolutely right! Why don’t you go straight to that fatso from Ab Na Ja today. No problem! I have set you free!
: Where did you take Tanbi bhabi the other day?
: What do you mean?
: I saw it—you got photo credit under her picture. Tell me, where did you go? Why didn’t you take me along?
Choyon
falls completely silent! Despite repeatedly requesting Tanbi, she forgot to set her privacy to ‘except Kanchi’ when posting the pictures. Shit! She’s such a typical stupid beauty!
: Well, I mean, that day everyone from our office went out for a bit. You’re always suspicious of me for no reason. Hey hey hey Kona darling! … What are you starting again? Did you come here to cry? … Brother, please don’t mind. Your bhabi is a bit like this…
: What? What did you say? I’m like this? Wait, I’m going to put an end to your photography nonsense! If I don’t smash your camera when we get home, then my name isn’t… (Kanchi often threatens to smash Choyon’s DSLR.)
: Not Kona! This one, right? Okay, okay, fine, I’ll never call you by that name again.
Sometimes
Choyon affectionately calls Kanchi ‘Kona.’ Another medicine for calming her down is to call her Kona and sweet-talk her. Choyon gently strokes Kanchi’s cheek with the back of his right-hand fingers. He brings the front strands of her hair near her nose, twirls them, and lets them go. Kanchi is quiet now. Just smiling softly.
: Listen, listen… who is Chitralekha? Please don’t lie. I won’t get angry at all. Tell me, tell me, who is she?
Choyon
sidesteps the question. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. How did Kanchi find out about Chitra? Chitra didn’t send Kanchi a friend request or anything, did she? She very well might have. Why would Chitra be beautiful unless she was also foolish? Thinking all this, Choyon keeps clicking his camera. Click! Click!! Click!!!
In the cloud-broken sunlight of this monsoon afternoon, sliding across the sky clear as blue glass, Kanchi looks absolutely stunning. Leaning against the kash grass, she strikes various poses. Choyon dances with his eyes, whistles a tune—You fill up my senses… Kanchi laughs. She looks like a white swan. In this golden evening light, one could pour out all of today’s love for Kanchi. Choyon begins to think, the world is strangely beautiful! One could come to this world just to love Kanchi, could stay here for that alone. Life is really beautiful. Let all of life’s momentum stop this afternoon, let it remain frozen like this for eternity.
: Hey listen! You’re looking just like that girl.
: Hehehe… there’s no point trying to make me angry. I don’t feel like getting angry anymore. Tell me, which girl?
: I saw her on Bailey Road one rainy afternoon, eating a burger at Swiss. Believe me, she was sharp-featured beautiful! Maybe a schoolgirl. You look just like a schoolgirl today! Magnificent! Beautiful as another man’s wife! ……….. Haven’t you worn this blue sari before?
: You really are a wonderful photographer, you know? From today you’re only my photographer. You’ll never take anyone else’s picture again, alright? Just for you I’ll remain forever beautiful; however you want me to be. I absolutely promise! You’ll keep me arranged to your heart’s content for life. After today I won’t let any other beauty get tangled in your eyes. You’ll see!
: At these words Choyon seemed to lose himself! Coming to the middle of the road, he shouted out to the world, Look here, today the most beautiful girl in the world called me a photographer! Hahahaha …….. I’m a photographer, I’m a photographer…….!!
Sprawled on the road, Kanchi kept looking toward Choyon; Choyon would never again speak hurriedly and upset Kanchi. Kanchi isn’t crying, she’s suddenly become still like that golden afternoon that had stopped short. Even if she turns her lips and sobs and cries, who would comfort her today? For the crime of taking others’ photos, she’ll never have to scold him again. Her photographer has saved her for life and gone away.
The car driver is running after the hit-and-run pickup van, cursing in unspeakable language.
Postscript. Before death, Choyon had lived intensely as a photographer just once. In the movie ‘Life is Beautiful,’ even at the moment before the soldiers killed the father, with that natural gesture of taking life simply, the way the father made his son believe that life is meant to be lived in those small moments by playing tricks and living a little through the gaps with laughter and play—exactly like that, Choyon had lived with all his love for his beloved until the very moment before death. How many people can truly live like him right before death? He was supremely fortunate. He didn’t have to die with the pain of not becoming a photographer. Before death, he had already won photography’s greatest prize.