Reflection: Two hundred forty-nine.
……………………………………..
Why do people marry?
Father says,
get married. Mother says,
get married. Everyone says,
get married. There’s no work more urgent than getting married.
It’s not as if we’re desperately poor,
that my parents can’t feed or clothe me,
so they must marry me off. Nor do I live off family money. I teach students,
and with that income I cover all my expenses. Still, I must be married off. In my family’s eyes, I’ve become like Parashuram’s
‘inconceivable, unprotectable, world-maiden’!
Everyone’s mouth carries the same refrain………marry her off! As if marrying me off would make every member of our family worth millions!
One day a boy will come,
see me,
like what he sees!
Say, wow! Will you marry me?
Seeing him, everyone will say,
what a good job he has!
How handsome! Marry her to him! With him she’ll be
so happy! If such a boy slips away, you’ll never find another!
Blah blah blah…………
I’m such a poor student,
cheerfully earning second class in every exam!
I have no shame,
I have no talent. Nothing will come of me!
Therefore, I must marry………when nothing comes of someone,
there’s only one thing they can do in this worldly existence,
and that work is called marriage. I’ll marry, then comes the wedding night. Ah, ah!
What joy fills sky and air! I who could never be like everyone else, that same I must now, like everyone else,
like millions of women across thousands of ages………simply because homes must be built, build a home!
Strike up the drums!
Play the shehnai!
Everyone celebrate together!
I’ll have to kill the ‘I’ within me and live as a counterfeit human. In the deep night a slithering hand will reach toward me,
and like inert matter I’ll have to endure its violation, no one will know,
no case of violence against women will be filed,
no trial will come for murdering the
‘I’ within me. This is called social custom. Is marriage then society-sanctioned prostitution? Is this a wedding stage,
or a sacrificial altar?
They say I’ll be happy one day. Everyone is supposedly happy! If everyone is happy, must I be happy too?
Or, will doing exactly what makes everyone happy
inevitably make me happy? Is this
verdict my life’s practice?
Or merely a fashion of displaying blind obedience to society’s prejudices? Are we all cast from the same metal?
Do we all live only to marry?
What happens after marriage?
Like everyone else, I too will have to manage a household! A hermit’s domesticity! I’ll have to live like him, live like his parents. Of course I will, right?
This is the rule, this is what society has reserved for me!
Because I’m a woman!
How beautifully all my dreams will be destroyed!
My dream of becoming a writer,
my dream of becoming human, my dream of wiping away human tears! Everything will be lost!
What kind of society is this?
When you hold the hand of someone you love, society attacks you, but when you spend night after night in the same bed with a stranger, society says,
This is what we want!
From the time I learned to understand that tears come to people’s eyes because they suffer, I wanted to grow up just for them. I felt as if
God kept whispering in my ear, “This is why I sent you to earth. You will ease human sorrow.”
I am alive only for the Creator, to follow His commands. Instead of doing that, what must I do now?
Get married! How wonderful!
How wonderful!
I know that
after marriage he will never understand me, he will never truly know me. How many men care for their wife’s mind along with her body?
Before marriage he might say,
You can do whatever you want. I have no objections.
The wedding happens. Then what? The lord husband will show his true self, won’t he?
Why must people marry?
I want nothing,
I need no man to make my youth successful!
I need no companion for my body!
I don’t want to live as a woman. I want to live with all the rights of a human being.
I cannot live within a circle! Why should I?
Am I an animal? Why do they want to force me into that unfamiliar circle?
I know
I cannot be bound, because I was born free. Yet I am afraid. I know
I am neither god nor devil, yet I do not accept this society. They say I live as I please! What I want is
to remain unmarried, to love like them, and to taste the full flavor of passion.
Bengalis steal in secret,
no harm is done,
but get caught and it’s the gallows!
There are so many things I don’t enjoy doing,
yet I do them! I don’t really enjoy these certificate-chasing studies, do I,
yet I study! What more do you want from me?
Yes, I am ill-tempered! Why should I do what I don’t enjoy,
if I cannot do
what I do enjoy? And you speak of mistakes? Life is for making mistakes!
Have I lived this life before?
How would I know
what is not a mistake? If you punish me, I will accept it. There are arrangements for punishment, but is there no right to make mistakes?
I want to break out of this
circle,
I want the freedom of my heart!
Reflection: Two Hundred Forty.
……………………………………..
How much of you I occupy today,
perhaps you sense it,
or perhaps you don’t, but the day I vanish,
deep in your heart you’ll feel my presence manifold!
Today you may sense the yearning in my chest, or perhaps not at all,
but when I’m gone, will you then pour your own yearning into poetry and fall silent?
You dwell in all my thoughts,
This heart remains intoxicated with you alone,
By what enchantment do you draw me,
A strange tremor awakens and sets the mind adrift…….
Those two eyes, how they burn,
if only you knew!
I burn away, my ashes become poetry in your very notebook,
What manner of love is this, what
kind of pull,
that cannot be measured or grasped!
Your poetry grows, I burn more,
those ashes become your poetry on every page,
This burning of mine never ends,
nor does your poetry ever cease!
Don’t you understand anything?
Oh beloved, why are you so naive?
All the emotion of your heart,
and your love,
If you burn it all on paper,
then tell me, dear one, what do I have?
The more I burn, inside and out, the more you burn too,
My ashes cannot be preserved,
Your ashes cannot even be seen!
The more you burn, poetry comes,
The more I burn, poets laugh.
Listen here, you are a person of great stature. To receive the love of thousands upon thousands is no simple matter. You will become great one day, you’ll see!
One day you’ll become a great writer. Though to me you’re already the finest writer. Do you know how much
your every piece of writing moves people?
I know
how far you wish to go,
how much ground you want to cover,
where you want to rest when weary. Look,
one day you’ll reach exactly there. However much I love you today, I’ll love you just as much that day. My love for you will only grow, never diminish.
When you grow old, when death comes knocking,
you’ll begin to wonder,
will all your stories and poems be lost after your death? Or will someone carry these achievements of yours within themselves?
Perhaps then you’ll remember your children. Or maybe someone will come to mind who loves you deeply,
who loves your writing. You’ll grow old, but your beloved will never age. And if truly your little ones arrive in this world nestled in your wife’s arms,
and emerge with the force of your genes—cute like you and with minds brimming with restless talent—
then what wonder that will be!
They will keep you alive. Don’t you worry…………
Do you know me?
Do you truly know me? I am but a star that has fallen from your life’s orbit. There is no place for me in your reality. Never will I be able to lift my voice and declare,
who you are to me! How much of me you occupy!
As much as I love you,
I love your family that much. As much as I love your poetry,
each of your writings, as much as I love the warmth of your heated breath, as much as I love your laughter, as much as I love the scent of your body,
as much as I love each word you speak, does anyone else love you so well?
Think and tell me!
Do you remember, I once asked you for a child? Do you know why I asked?
So that in their body I could find your scent,
so that their smile, their eyes, their hands………everything about them would be like you. So that looking at them I would think, here is my beloved’s carbon copy! Who says I didn’t receive them?
Listen, I don’t need a child from your womb,
don’t give me even that right. I have kept you in the entirety of my heart. Your presence revolves around my whole world. Even if born from another’s womb, see, my child
will be just like you. Since you fill my entirety, and with that entirety
they will come into this world, isn’t that so?
They will be just like you, you’ll see!
I will absorb everything of yours into them. This is my prayer.
Such an enchanting morning every day wouldn’t be so bad. Not just today,
the day I first heard your voice,
I felt then,
I was born for this voice alone!
When I told mother this one day,
she called me crazy. Hahahaha……… well,
let’s leave all that. I feel embarrassed. Now I read one of your pieces. Learning to be well, learning to be unwell too. Impossibly beautiful. You know,
each of your writings creates a different kind of joy in the heart. If anyone reads any of your pieces with deep attention,
truly even if they were paralyzed
they would sit up! It captivates the heart so much………so very much!
I have an exam tomorrow morning,
I’m going.
Thought: Two hundred forty-one.
……………………………………..
I feel like I’m going mad. Loneliness,
human cruelty,
selfishness, everything together is making me somehow different. Despite all my efforts, I cannot rise above these sufferings.
The people around me are making my life unbearable. The people around me seem unable to tolerate me at all. I’ve grown old, they’ll need a divorced man to marry me off, he’s coming……she’ll study and become a judge-barrister, we’ll see! So many more words,
so many that
I couldn’t finish telling them all. Father and mother have to hear various things from them. Father is a regional engineer at PAUBO. They say,
couldn’t get the daughter married off, what’s the use of having such a big job? Not a single person seems able to tolerate me!
I get support only from father and mother.
Father and mother went for Hajj. Everyone said,
when people go for Hajj, they must be considered dead, returning from there is supposedly a bonus!
My brother,
he stays at the office all day. Comes at night. All day alone at home feels like madness.
In the midst of all this, my boyfriend—whom I had considered my closest confidant and greatest source of strength—suddenly announced he would no longer maintain our relationship and cut off all contact. Six years together, and when I was already mentally shattered by my parents’ absence, he never once thought of me.
I have no friends, male or female. At his insistence, I never mingled with anyone, so I have no friends. And today he himself has left me behind!
Nothing brings me joy anymore. I feel as though I’m lying alone in a dark grave, and everyone is stabbing at me at will, causing me pain.
There’s no one to listen to my words. The world seems intent on casting me aside, laughing at me and mocking me. For as long as I remain awake, I weep. No one stands beside me, no one at all.
“Like a Blue Whale game player, I’m toying with my own life! If I told you I was the admin of that game… hahahaha… not everyone can play with life. Not everyone possesses that level of intelligence and courage. Because most people die when they try to play with their own lives.
What anyone else says truly doesn’t matter to me, because I know what I am, what I’m capable of.
But when you say something, it becomes something entirely different for me. Every word you speak carries weight for me on some other, nobler scale of judgment. You know this. And knowing this, how could you speak such harsh words, in such a way? Why do you neglect me so deeply?
I’ve just returned home. If you noticed the first photograph I sent you, you’d see I’ve covered my head with a veil. Many might call this a religious innovation. But I don’t think so. Because I love you, I’ve surrendered myself to you with my head veiled. For me, this isn’t innovation—it’s worship. After falling in love with you, I’m no longer the person I once was. That’s why I’ve brought this change within myself.
Today a teacher called me over and said, “I’m telling you this as an elder brother. Think it over, let your family know… The young man is very good, from an excellent family. His mother is an upazila education officer, his father a businessman. The boy is tall, a senior officer at the Agricultural Bank.
I don’t like hearing any more. I had already made my decision long ago. I wouldn’t marry anyone less worthy than you. And now I won’t marry anyone, worthy or unworthy. I thought it through many times before coming to you and only then made my decision. I had no teenage infatuation. It’s true I won’t give anyone your identity. But the transformation that has occurred in my heart—I can never get back the person I was before, can I? I moved forward knowing and understanding, considering the consequences. You can call me a bad girl, worthless, whatever you wish, but the truth is that what has happened has happened. And I never want to accept anyone else. The question of informing my family about the teacher’s proposal doesn’t arise. I’ll gently tell that teacher that my marriage has already been arranged elsewhere.”
I had written this letter to her a few days ago, but it was never given, remained unpublished. Today I am publishing it.
Thought: Two hundred forty-two.
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Tell me, are all feminist women connected to each other by large vermillion dots on their foreheads? Must everyone wear a dot larger than their forehead itself? I have seen some feminists who have no real opinions of their own. My impression is that most feminists themselves don’t know what they actually want! They merely harmonize with others, half-understanding or not understanding at all. Whatever advantages, freedoms, or rights—call them what you will—that women practice feminism for, it seems to me that rather than bringing those advantages, they create even more disadvantages. I have seen many who, in practicing feminism, become men themselves. Why must this happen? Can one not work for women’s rights while remaining in the guise of a woman?
The freedom inherent in becoming shameless like men—that is not feminism, at best it is patriarchal opportunism. One can certainly express personal taste by keeping an unlit cigarette perpetually stuck in the corner of one’s mouth, but establishing feminism is not possible this way. Sexual freedom or sexual libertinism may be the personal opinion and lifestyle ideal of a particular circle or group, but it is by no means feminism in any broad sense. Marriage, or the process of legitimizing any homosexual or heterosexual relationship outside marriage, may reflect the personal opinions of women in one section of society—I acknowledge this; but since it conflicts with the way of life and beliefs of the vast majority of society, it has always seemed to me a childish version of feminism. When someone, becoming disenchanted with such forms of feminism, proposes an alternative, I have seen many male feminists come charging with great hue and cry. If one thinks a little about the reason behind these men’s enthusiasm for feminism, their earnest interest in certain unrestricted advantages or directions naturally comes to the fore. Some even practice atheism in the name of feminism! This mixture of feminism and atheism may be palatable or fashionable, but it is by no means proven. One who truly wishes for women’s development will never work to gain the mental proximity of women from a particular section of society; rather, his purpose and work will be realistic, impersonal, not merely promotional and lifeless. I have no hope of seeing any positive change in women’s society at the hands of such hypocritical, self-contradictory, publicity-obsessed feminists. I have seen the true form of feminism develop not in the arms or throat, but in the mind. When a woman’s personality can silently earn someone’s respect and attention through her sharp, intelligent gaze—there lies the true manifestation of women’s power.
Thought: Two hundred forty-three.
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On the nineteenth of April, a little girl came into this world. Their family’s financial situation was not comfortable, but there was happiness in the home. When the girl was one year old, she had a little sister. With the family’s poor financial condition, and now another child, the older girl was sent to live with her maternal grandparents to ease her mother’s burden, even if only a little. From the moment the girl began to understand, she realized she was living as a burden on the family. Angry eyes from every family member, faces etched with irritation, and constant taunts—this was her daily routine. But she couldn’t think of anyone to tell these things to. Who would believe her?
So she endured everything in silence, and continues to do so even now. When she sits down to eat, her aunt stands before her, making her eat like a thief, always anxious about accidentally eating too much. She knows all too well how cruelly people can behave. From this very home began her school life. She often wondered who she could share her sorrows with! There was no one by her side. Her father had no time to think about her. Her maternal uncle was busy with his own work, with no leisure to even look at her. Still, the girl was grateful to her uncle—he was raising her, after all! He might neglect her now, but once upon a time he had loved her. The girl desperately wanted to stay with her mother, still does, but she cannot. Every day she cries bitterly in secret. But nothing changes from that. After passing her SSC exams, the girl thought perhaps now she could stay with her mother, but such good fortune was not hers. Her father refused to keep his daughter with them under any circumstances. There was a college near her grandparents’ house that didn’t have good science teachers, but she was enrolled there anyway. The reason was simple: the cost was lower there. From childhood, the girl had so many dreams—one day she would grow up and take good care of her parents. She didn’t know that even dreaming was a sin for her!
From class seven onward, the girl has paid for her education through tutoring. She gets by perfectly well with old, torn clothes. When Eid comes, sometimes she goes to someone’s house and asks for clothes. She is never bought new clothes from home. She doesn’t suffer much from any of this—if her days pass, that’s enough. One day she will grow up, and until then she must wait! Her cousins ask her, “Why are you so thin?” Hahaha… She says nothing, just looks at them with a smile. She knows very well that if she spent her tutoring money on new clothes, she wouldn’t be able to afford her education! Who would give her money? Besides, if her mother can wear old clothes, why can’t she?
If her mother can endure day after day of beatings from her father just for looking at her two daughters, keeping silent and bearing it all, if she can survive these sixteen years by keeping her own daughter in another house, swallowing her pain and sustaining herself on some dream, then why can’t she? When she thinks of her mother, nothing else causes her any pain at all—she can endure everything.
She
is such a sorrowful child,
who has never received a father’s affection, never had the fortune of receiving a mother’s love either. She
knows that in her life there is nothing but suffering. She hears from people’s mouths that her father has apparently remarried. In that household there is apparently a son as well. Father spends all his money on that boy. What’s the use of spending money on their two daughters? Mother sometimes saves up money and gives her some expenses for her studies. She
is such a child, that to arrange the expenses for her education, her mother has to endure beatings from her own husband,
has to work secretly in other people’s houses. Whenever mother gets a chance, she sets aside some money from father’s pocket. What else can the poor mother do? There is no other way!
The girl sometimes thinks she will write a long letter full of grievances to her father and leave this world. Twice she wanted to commit suicide but couldn’t do it. She fears something! If she
leaves this world, what will happen to her mother?
If she goes away, mother will surely not survive!
Is this the fear,
who knows!
The girl’s father is not very poor, actually. But father has no money for her mother and her little sister. The girl no longer wants much of anything now. She doesn’t need any of her dreams to be fulfilled. Her only wish is
that her father becomes a little better,
loves her mother a little,
lives life honestly,
that her mother and little sister remain a little well. Won’t Allah
fulfill even this small wish of the girl’s? Some people have so much money, cars,
houses—they need nothing,
they don’t even want to be happy themselves, they simply want to see someone they love be happy. They want nothing else. Then why doesn’t even this happen? They say that in one human life, not all wishes are fulfilled. And there are some people whose no wishes are ever fulfilled. For what crime is the girl living as one of them?
She who since birth has never even had the opportunity to commit any crime! Then why did her life become like this?
Thought: Two hundred forty-four.
……………………………………..
Heyyy…………
Hmm.
Listen naaa………hey, are you listening?
Hmm, tell me.
Shyamol is doing urgent office work sitting on the bed,
and right beside him lies Maya, her body curled up. Even when she has nothing to do, staying awake with Shyamol is Maya’s old habit. There’s no way to put her to sleep,
not even when she’s terribly unwell. Maya doesn’t just stay awake, she bothers him terribly too. Shyamol gets angry from time to time, becomes irritated, even scolds her, but under Maya’s spell, none of it lasts very long.
Are you doing something very urgent, hmm?
Hmm.
Can I say something?
Shyamol was about to give her a sharp rebuke and looked toward Maya, but seeing her tired body, her eyes reddened from desperate sleepiness, he no longer felt like scolding her.
Hmm, tell me.
Will you take off my anklets and put them back on again?
My crazy girl! The same thing every single day………what pleasure is there in this! You know what it is?
You say it every day as if you’re saying it for the first time today!
Hehehe that’s good………
That’s good,
isn’t it?!…………saying this,
Shyamol brought Maya’s two feet into his lap,
kissed them lovingly,
removed the anklets as he did every day,
and while putting an anklet on one foot, he looked at Maya and savored her mischievously sweet smile.
Just then Maya said,
Shyam, I trouble you so much,
don’t I? Such a day will surely come when I won’t trouble you anymore, or when these desires to wear anklets will flee somewhere, won’t they, darling?
One of us will surely have to leave someday,
isn’t that right? Tell me Shyam, why can’t we both go together? Why is the world so cruel, can you tell me?
Shyamol almost embraces her with both hands, pulls Maya close to his chest and says,
My Maya,
I don’t believe you understand how much pain such words of yours cause me. Then why do you hurt me this way?
Shyamol’s tears roll down Maya’s face as she lies embraced against Shyamol’s chest………
Maya knows
how much Shyamol knows how to hide himself………such surrendering of himself is not easily seen in Shyamol. Holding Shyamol even tighter, Maya begins to cry almost screaming………
How late into the night the two of them cried, neither knows. Maya only noticed once
that one of her feet had no anklet………
When Maya woke up in the morning and glanced at the clock, she saw it was quite late. Shyamol hadn’t woken her before leaving for office; he had made himself eggs and bread, and left two pieces for Maya in a box beside her pillow. Next to it, on a piece of paper, was written—”My crazy Maya……… I love you! I love you so very much, love you, love you!”
Goodness, does anyone cry from so much love? I won’t cry anymore, never again!……… Thinking this, Maya felt a sweet daze wash over her, but as she moved to get out of bed, she saw……. ankle bells on both her feet…….
Maya’s eyes misted over once again…….
Reflection: Two hundred and forty-five.
……………………………………..
1.
If a doctor, merely by touching a patient’s body during a check-up, becomes completely excited and slumps into his chair, and that excitement becomes visible even through his pants!………then that’s a real problem!
How would the doctor practice medicine?
How would patients even see such a doctor?
“I’m sorry, I got a little excited. Actually, you are excessively, well, you know………sexy, both in body and speech.”
What a strange doctor, what an extraordinary tale!
2.
I found another 7,000 taka hidden away! Sometimes I find money like this………absolutely wonderful!
………Heh heh heh, it feels great when I discover such hidden treasures! Then I think, forgetting things is wonderful! If I hadn’t forgotten where I put the money, would I have found it so unexpectedly?
But the real story is, whether it’s this 7,000 or even 27,000, whatever I have remains what I have, nothing changes………no profit, no loss.
I have this strange indifference toward money! Having money beyond my fixed expenses makes me restless! This was true even in childhood. On days when I took little money to school or no money at all, I felt fine, but on days when I took extra money, I would get restless and annoyed thinking about what to buy with it, and would finally return home without buying anything.
Even now, having my own money in hand feels strange! Then I spend all the money on household needs……ah, what peace!
That’s why mother always says—”What a peculiar child!”
Though I have little interest in buying things for myself, I often wander through shopping centers. I enjoy looking at beautiful things. When I see lovely dresses, jewelry, crockery or decorative pieces, I mentally thank those who designed them, and feel joy seeing the expression of their beautiful minds. This joy is priceless.
When I see very expensive things or things I can’t afford to buy, I never think, “Oh, why don’t I have this or that”……… I simply enjoy the looking. Finding joy not through possession but through mere observation—this is a very useful art!
3.
Except for certain very specific relationships, perhaps there are really no relationships at all. A relationship is merely one element among countless elements that give time to time. Time passes… elements change… elements change… time flows on… some elements endure longer, others perhaps less. But none of these is eternal… understanding this truth alleviates much of life’s suffering.
The climbing perch—even when struck,
even when dead, still leaps…
The cockroach—when struck,
even while alive,
feigns death… (so that,
thinking it has died, no one will strike it again…)
There is much to learn from the climbing perch and the cockroach. If one can understand when in life to behave like the climbing perch and when like the cockroach, much good will follow…