Thought: Two Hundred Ninety-Five.
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On the 20th of last month, I moved out of my old place and into a new home. Three of us girls wanted to rent a room as subletters in this house. The rent was 8000 taka. Suddenly, the other two girls stopped answering my calls. I waited for them for a week. Still, they wouldn’t pick up the phone.
(My guess is
they couldn’t afford the rent, so they avoided my calls.)
Before moving into the new place, I spoke with the landlord uncle and auntie several times. Without question, they are good people. When I shared with them that the two girls weren’t answering their phones and asked what I should do, they said with smiling faces,
“You move in by yourself. We’re giving you a two-person apartment.” So I moved into the house. That’s all.
The interesting thing is, when I was moving in, uncle and auntie spoke with sorrowful expressions about how their two sons don’t support them financially. They live separately with their wives. Their only daughter stays at her in-laws’ place. The mother-in-law is not good to her. Their daughter hasn’t come to her father’s house in a year. So they’re compelled to rent out rooms as sublets. Another son named Swapan is going abroad. He could leave today, or tomorrow. All his paperwork is ready.
Three days later, auntie said, “Dear,
I’ve rented the next room to a husband and wife.” Hearing this was a bit hard to digest. Of course, I didn’t say anything. Because the house has three bedrooms including the master bedroom. So I thought their son would probably sleep on a cot in the dining room. Uncle and auntie would sleep in the next room. I would stay in this room. I also thought, since the son is going abroad anyway, when another girl joins me, we two would pay 8000 together. What’s the problem!
On the 25th, when I came back from class, I found the house full of people. The son-in-law and their two-year-old grandson had come to visit. Auntie had moved my luggage and books to the next room. Anyway,
I was happy. It felt good, because auntie had her daughter close to her after so long.
On the night of the 29th, the new tenants—that husband and wife—arrived. Auntie moved me to the drawing room. There’s a cot set up there. I didn’t mind at all. Because the son-in-law isn’t a live-in son-in-law,
how long would he stay anyway! He’d leave eventually!
In the meantime, I learned some more facts. Auntie has five sons and one daughter. The two older sons are married and live separately with their wives. Uncle and auntie live in this house with three sons.
I still sleep in the dining room. Because the son-in-law came on the 25th of last month. He’s still here. He’ll stay for a few more days.
I had moved in paying roughly one-third of 8000 taka,
which is 2700 taka. The current situation in the house is this:
one of the three rooms is sublet,
one room has the son-in-law and grandson,
one room has the son who might go abroad in the near future and his other brother. All three bedrooms are occupied. What remains is the drawing room. The drawing room and dining room are together. Auntie and I sleep on the cot. Uncle sleeps on the floor. Two arm’s lengths from the cot, another of auntie’s sons sleeps on the sofa.
I am a girl. There is such a thing as self-respect! Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the other one yet… there’s another boy in this house, a laborer type. He pays Aunty 4000 taka for his room and board.
My family back home knows nothing of all this. Because my mother is very bad-tempered. Somewhat arrogant too. Her desire is for me to marry and settle into domestic life. I didn’t listen to her. So she is extremely angry with me. I came to Dhaka to study against my family’s wishes. I’ve stayed for two and a half years. I’ve endured so much hardship. Now if the folks back home learn of these matters, they’ll bind my hands and feet and marry me off. For Bangladeshi guardians, there’s only one solution to every problem—marriage.
Oh yes, my landlord uncle and aunty are very good people. I eat with them. I pay my share. They are undoubtedly good. But the problem is that there are some flaws in their education and upbringing. They pay 21,000 taka in rent, but have no means of their own. They haven’t taught their sons to work hard. Those lazy boys simply exploit tenants like this to cover the house rent and live in Dhaka themselves. That’s all there is to it. Today I’ve given up the room. I too am exhausted. Next month I have my second-year final exams.
Because of Aunty’s misguided teachings, they themselves are not well off. Because they could take less money for house rent if they wanted. They didn’t, citing matters of dignity. The subletting husband-wife, the laborer-type boy, and I—three of us together pay 2700+4000+7000=13,700 taka. And their ill-mannered sons stay free without paying anything, sleeping face-down until noon.
Oh yes, whether the room is vacant or not, Aunty prefers to sleep beside me. Because she’s a mother, after all—perhaps she’s rented out due to financial necessity, but she doesn’t dare let me sleep alone. Because what if her virtuous sons should…!
Today I’ve spent the whole day abandoning my studies to search the streets for accommodation, though I found none. Because living with various girls has given me extensive experience in many matters. These days I can’t trust anyone. Even hearing the word “sublet” fills me with dread. I will not marry. I will not go to a hostel. So where will I go? I don’t know that myself!
If a girl decides that she will never marry in her life, why doesn’t society accept her? A person wants to live alone—what does society lose by this? The society that cannot provide security to a girl then raises a hue and cry about that girl’s decision to live alone! We live in a society filled with hypocrisy. Society puts on such airs as if it’s deeply concerned about the welfare of its members. The reality is quite different. Society is an irresponsible guardian who sulks when you don’t listen, but when problems arise from following its advice, it offers no solutions. This society imposes various decisions, but the facilities available for living here… almost all of them are the achievement of the person availing them, not society’s.
I am in deep trouble. I bring very little money home from my family. This month I’ve managed only two thousand taka. I work a very small job at Sundarban Courier Service. And that job isn’t even permanent. Whatever four or five thousand taka comes from there—with that I can manage myself quite well.
I want to prove emphatically that what I’m doing is right. I will do it for my own wellbeing. But society simply won’t let me. Why? I want to stand on my own merits. I don’t want favors from society, I don’t want pity—I’d be happy if they just didn’t obstruct me.
Reflection: Two hundred ninety-six.
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I had wanted to live, to fulfill my dreams and become my father’s ideal daughter… this was the greatest crime of my life.
I was the beloved youngest daughter of the house, and now that same me has become a great burden. I was born into a musical family. My father was a school teacher; he was, one could say, a god to the helpless. He taught music and drama at the district arts academy. Living within his sphere of influence, all five of us siblings became deeply passionate about music. My elder sister sang in Dhaka, her husband had a large music studio. We were a very happy family. Every so often when my sister would come home bringing many things for us, it was great fun; on one such day my sister came to visit our village home with her husband. Two days later, suddenly, my father had a stroke and left us behind. I was then in class four. Father couldn’t leave anything behind for us, because most of his salary was spent on helpless people. When there was no one to hold our household together, my sister took charge of our family. After my PSC exam, she admitted me to a very good school in Dhaka, and got my second sister married. But I felt terrible being away from my mother. Living in the hostel, I had no opportunity to sing either. Because I did very well there, the teachers also didn’t want to let me leave, but after much crying and pleading, I returned to my mother in the village after one year. I came back and started studying properly and singing again. Gradually I had become much more beautiful to look at, so I attracted a lot of attention. My mother stayed with me all the time, so I didn’t face any real problems then. Suddenly one day, my mother too had a stroke and left us.
I became terribly alone. Everyone in the family started seeing me as a burden. The very sister who had loved me so much began saying, “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have any tensions.” Of course, there was a reason for this—boys on the streets would harass me terribly. There was one boy who had no educational qualifications whatsoever, but was very wealthy, everyone knew him as very decent, and he had become desperate to marry me. His family too very much wanted to make me their daughter-in-law. Meanwhile, everything was arranged for my sister to go to America, because all of her in-laws lived there.
Then suddenly everyone at home decided they would marry me off. They had already chosen the boy. I was only in eighth grade at the time. I couldn’t figure out what to do. Where they had arranged my marriage, they wouldn’t let me continue my studies. I had just moved up to ninth grade. And meanwhile, everything for my wedding was being finalized. Finding no other way out, I told that uneducated boy that I was willing to marry him, but I had some conditions. I told him then that he would have to stand by me on my path to reaching my goals, that he must never even think of stopping my studies, and that he could never ask me to give up singing—he would have to give me the freedom to dream. He accepted all my terms. I trusted him, because he had even attempted suicide in his madness to have me. Against everyone’s wishes, I took his hand and left home.
After going to his house, I discovered it was a household steeped in superstition. Everyone there had one refrain—the daughters-in-law of this house don’t study, let alone sing! I couldn’t understand what I should do. Then he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll sort everything out.” After that I began going to school, but no one in his family could accept this. It was a large extended family, and they would constantly subject me to harsh words and make me do endless work. Since I didn’t know how to do the work, I had to endure all sorts of nasty comments. After three or four months had passed, he himself changed completely—he would scold me constantly over the smallest things, and would raise his hand against me at the slightest provocation. Everyone in my family had cut off all contact with me by then. So I couldn’t tell anyone anything. Struggling like this, I somehow managed to pass my SSC with a 3.67.
Meanwhile, due to certain events, everyone in my family accepted everything and welcomed us back. I never told my father’s family anything about my in-laws’ house, thinking that everything would work out eventually. Then I got admission to a government college in the village and began studying very earnestly. But his torture only increased day by day—now he started hitting me not just at home, but outside as well. So sometimes I would go to college and cry alone. I didn’t tell anyone anything. I started taking classes with everyone else from the English teacher at college, who taught quite well. Since I came first in all the coaching exams, he looked at me differently—my humility apparently enchanted him. Gradually he learned that I sang well, painted pictures, and also loved poetry deeply. Seeing all this, he became more interested in knowing about me, and upon inquiry learned that I had eloped with a boy. He noticed carefully that I was often very melancholy, but never let anyone understand this. So he would occasionally ask me about my life story, and I would always evade with various excuses.
One day, when he asked me directly all of a sudden, I told him the entire truth and broke down completely. Hearing everything, he too began to weep. He said, “I am beside you, you move forward”… and he also made me understand that he had fallen deeply in love with me. I had told him then,
“What was meant to happen has happened,
there’s nothing left to do now.” But he said,
“Just because what was meant to happen has happened doesn’t mean life should be ended this way. Don’t end your life—start it anew from the beginning.” He could recite and write beautiful poetry,
he had written many poems about me, had given me many names too. He would call me by different names on different days. He would tell me, “I will show you yourself through your own eyes. You will find yourself in me through your own gaze.” He began to give me so much love that I no longer even considered my other physical and
mental sufferings as suffering at all. I could no longer bear my husband’s cruelties,
I decided
to separate from him. He too gave me courage, showed me many, many dreams—dreams of spending an entire lifetime together. Dreams about every single moment of life. Dreams of helping me reach my goals. He used to call me
‘Megh’ (Cloud),
and I used to call him ‘Roudra’ (Sunlight),
and our imagined child’s name was Ghonarka. He had said that convincing his parents would be his responsibility. Towards the end, he would sometimes suffer from indecision, and then I would make him understand. Gradually, the matter between him and me became known in college and in the surrounding area as well. When he explained our situation to his mother, his mother too agreed and asked me to first become an independent woman.
After this, when my husband behaved very badly with me again, I moved to my sister’s house,
and then he
started spreading all sorts of nasty rumors about me to people around. He began putting tremendous pressure on my family, stopped my studies. He started coming to my sister’s house, and whenever he came there would only be quarrels. Meanwhile, sir told me that I should divorce him. When he insisted so strongly, I didn’t delay any further and divorced him. And some days after this, suddenly sir cut off all kinds of communication with me,
changed his previous number. I couldn’t understand what had happened at all,
so when I called his mother, his mother told me, “Never contact my son again. You stay in your way, let him stay in his way. Whatever has happened,
forget it,
don’t bother him.” I couldn’t contact him anymore, and through one of my cousins he conveyed that,
actually, I was a very bad person and he shouldn’t accept me. I should return to my previous place. I still cannot understand
what terrible thing I did to him
that he could pin the label of “bad as a human being”
on me!
No one in my family supports me. Everyone is against my studies. Yet with great difficulty I have begun going to college again, trying to study properly, trying to reorganize my life once more. Meanwhile someone has taken photos from my Facebook profile, edited them by cutting off the head and placing it on obscene images to blackmail me, unknown people keep calling me constantly from various numbers, when I go to college someone follows me from a distance, someone threatens to kill my cousin after saying vile things about me… I am caught in a thousand such problems. No one believes what I say anymore. No one wants to hear my sorrows! No one understands me. What should I do, where should I go, how will the coming days pass—I cannot comprehend anything. Just because I made one mistake in life, will I never get another chance to reform myself?
Reflection: Two hundred ninety-seven.
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I know one shouldn’t tell anyone about one’s sorrows. No one can share that burden; instead, one might only face some contempt. So I don’t tell anyone anything. I keep everything inside myself. But sometimes so much accumulates that it feels as if my breath is being choked off! There are some people to whom if you speak your heart, you feel a little lighter. So when I find such a person, I hurriedly pour out all my words of pain, speaking and speaking until I feel relief. I know no one has any use for hearing about my sorrows, yet still I speak.
It has been about a month since I broke up with the one I love. Perhaps she is doing very well. Her days are passing nicely with friends. She has even told me to try to forget everything and be happy. How easily she said such words! But I wasn’t acting, nor did I get involved with her impulsively. Then how can I forget? She has forgotten everything so easily, yet I simply cannot! Every day, every night feels like hell to me. Many nights I don’t sleep, many days I eat nothing all day. Several nights I tried to die but couldn’t. I’ve sat through entire nights holding a blade close, weeping. Even now I do the same. Only when I remember my father’s and mother’s faces can I not bring myself to do this terrible deed.
How easily she told me, “I don’t feel compatible with you.”
How many nights I’ve questioned myself—
then why
couldn’t she understand this before? When I loved her, only then did she realize she wasn’t compatible with me?
She also told me that she
doesn’t feel anything for me anymore,
that she’s forgotten all our memories!
I cried so much hearing this. She gave no value to my tears. Still, like someone shameless, I tried to win her back. Does love make a person so shameless! Then one day she said she was apparently drawn to one of her female friends! I could understand everything beforehand,
but I didn’t want to accept it. I was afraid—
what if I lost her by asking about all this!
I still wonder, how did the person who was so desperate to have me change so completely?
I loved her seeing her love for me. Yet now she tells me she’s not compatible with me!
So was that not love?
Was it merely acting? I am that
girl who listens to her lover talk about liking another girl and consoles herself that she’ll get him exactly as she wants!
How shameless I am, how foolish! I suffer so much from this person, yet I can’t bear to see even a little of her pain!
Instead I comfort her!
Such a fool I am, suffering is all that’s written in my fate!
Every day I think,
I won’t bother her anymore, won’t speak to her anymore,
I’ll go far, far away. But I simply cannot forget her!
People only tell me to forget. Why don’t they also say what I should do to find a little peace? Where I should go to breathe a little peacefully. How much longer can one live like this? What fault was mine? I didn’t go chasing after her myself,
she made me fall in love, so why this
torment?
This is a very ordinary incident, I know. It happens to many people. But it had never happened to me before. So this anguish is new to me, unfamiliar. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things it has no special value, but personally it means a great deal to me. Perhaps I should thank God, because He saved me from her clutches before it was too late. But why did I have to go through this? Why did I have to lose something I never wanted to take in the first place, something I was forced to accept? I cannot forget her. How can one forget such a sweet relationship? Even now I wait for her. Will she never understand me? Will she ever suffer for my sake? Do none of our memories ever make her cry? Everyone says she will never understand me, she feels no pain for me in her heart. However much I feel for her, she never feels even a fraction of that for me. I understand everything, but I cannot accept it. I refuse to accept that she no longer wants me. She also says she is guilty, but there’s nothing she can do, that I should forgive her, forget her. Is it really that simple! Every day I want to block her everywhere, but I cannot. I want freedom from this dark world. Now she apparently wants to remain my friend! But is even this possible? Can one go on acting out simple friendship with so much love in one’s heart? I’m thinking I’ll say something to her one last time and then block her. But I cannot understand what I should say to her for the last time! Or perhaps there’s no need to say anything at all? What more can I explain to someone who already understands everything?
I blocked her a little while ago. So now my heart feels inexplicably heavy. Will I ever be able to forget that wretched person forever? Will I ever be able to cast her out of my mind? I may have blocked her from my virtual world, but how will I block her from the world of my heart?
Thought: Two hundred and ninety-eight.
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One.
For a long time I think about writing my story, I do write, but halfway through I delete it again and tell no one. Even now as I write this, I still don’t know whether I’ll keep it or not. I don’t know what I’ll write next, just whatever comes to mind, without any thought I’m writing all this helter-skelter nonsense. If you can make it through reading to the very end, then you’ll know it finally came to an end after all!
My heart is heavy, unbearably heavy. Mother is gone. My dearest friend is no longer with me today. On the 2nd of this month, Mother slipped away from me, traveling far beyond reach. Tomorrow I have an exam. A cytology exam. I understand nothing. I wasn’t terrible at studies. I had the chance to sit for the BUET entrance exam. My academic results weren’t that poor either. But nothing worked out for me. I desperately wanted to become a doctor. That too remained unfulfilled. I passed HSC in 2016. Since then, my life began to crumble catastrophically. I thought, let everything else fall apart, but let my mother at least remain with me—God wouldn’t even grant me that. Now it’s 2018, and this lonely journey still hasn’t ended. Everyone thinks I’m living in such happiness. Only I know how I truly am, how I’m barely surviving, and how much longer will God toy with me? I feel so exhausted………so very exhausted! Perhaps I’ve written all sorts of incoherent things. Why I wrote at all, I don’t know. I felt an urgent need to write something to someone. Perhaps I have no one to whom I can speak and feel even slightly lighter, so I’m compelled to confide in paper. I’m not well at all; I exist in a meaningless performance of being well.
Writing more feels painful now. When all these memories surface, everything feels strangely hollow, yet they keep returning! For now, let the curtain fall here.
Two.
I’ve frittered away the most crucial moments of this life through deception. Back in class nine, a girl had said, “Can you make rings with cigarette smoke? So-and-so can do it! It looks amazing!” I was in love with her, so to keep my word to her, I began that game of making rings. In that very circle I’ve bound my life, and today I’ve arrived at such a centerless orbit that has no address, no end.
Having crossed the first and second stages of life, entering the third stage, I am utterly a failed human being. I can find no way forward; ahead, behind, all around me I see only darkness. This time I was a university entrance exam candidate, and for the second time at that—meaning if I don’t get admission now, I can’t take the exam again. The first time I took the exam, I didn’t get admission anywhere. I thought I’d study well and take the exam a second time to get into university, but I failed the second time too—I didn’t get admission anywhere. I can’t meet anyone, can’t speak to anyone, even logging into Facebook feels like a crime. Everyone has the same question………where did I get admission?
What more can I say!
What is there left for me to say!
There is no language in my mouth—
the one who has failed,
what words does he have left?
But I don’t think I neglected any effort, yet nothing came of it!
That Facebook which, if I didn’t use for a single day, made me feel as though I’d missed something wonderful in life—
I wouldn’t even go on that Facebook,
I had even cut off contact with friends, barely used my mobile phone, had only one thought………I must get admission somewhere good, I studied day and night,
yet fate did not come to my aid. I cannot look into my parents’ eyes and speak, my head bows in shame. They had so many dreams that I would achieve something good in life, and I have shattered everything to pieces! Many friends around me got into universities,
those who weren’t particularly better than me in studies. Yet today they are doing well and I am not. The truth is, achievement matters far more than merit. One who has no achievement has no merit at all!
I live in the city, while my father and mother live in the village. They won’t understand
what I do here—study, or something else! Now they’ll only understand one thing: I didn’t study, all the money they gave me has gone to waste! They won’t understand how much I’ve struggled here!
Now none of them will want to understand anything, because I couldn’t accomplish anything worth explaining to them. Victory lies not in words but in deeds—this is reality. Sometimes I think,
I won’t keep this life anymore,
it’s not possible for me to move forward carrying so much failure. I am a failure,
I couldn’t accomplish anything—
this is the greatest reality of all. Today I am living like a dead man though I am alive and breathing. My father doesn’t have the money for me to study at a private university. Science didn’t work out for me though I wanted to study science. Nowadays science has become such a subject
that science is only for those who have money!
I studied classes nine and ten without private tutoring,
the price of which I’m paying now,
and had to pay during HSC too. There are many gaps in my basics. Teachers in today’s classes don’t teach properly, so they can give private tuitions,
and we didn’t have the means for private tutoring. Due to lack of money, the first time I took university admission coaching at a low-quality coaching center, and the second time I couldn’t afford coaching anywhere. What could I do—my father doesn’t have that kind of money!
I tried as much as I could manage
on my own. Though the first time I got admission to National University in Mathematics, I still wished to study at some public university. And now that wish has become a mirage, the dream remained only a dream.
I keep Facebook chat permanently off, so I don’t have to face anyone’s questions. When I run into people, I duck my head and flee—to avoid those same questions!
I’ve given up on my own dreams,
but I couldn’t even fulfill this small dream of Abba’s—this thought gnaws at me every single moment! Will I be able to fulfill Abba’s dream?
I can’t take it anymore,
I can’t take it anymore………repeated failures are slowly narrowing the path before me. Only one admission exam left—at Noakhali University of Science and Technology. Life has taught me one thing………for those without much money, studying science is like trying to stop ocean waves! As day turns to night,
night turns to day,
I’m becoming more isolated,
I have no friend who’d check on me, ask how I am, what I’m doing. Money comes into everything!
The situation now is such that
those with more money never lack for friends to check on them, while those with less money—even if they died, no one would notice. These thoughts keep me awake at night,
so I just lie there and weep…………
Thought: Two hundred ninety-nine.
……………………………………..
Thank you for your time. That you said you’d give me time means everything to me. I have every intention of bothering you like this again and again. I hope
you won’t be angry about it. Hahahaha………By the way,
I saw you in a dream the other day,
so I texted you.
I was at that concert you sang at for your birthday.
I danced a lot, screamed a lot,
took lots of photos. I’ve fallen in love with you,
fallen so hard I can’t get back up,
would you take my hand,
please! I mean, take my hand and help me up!
The way you sing, the way you speak before starting a song, how you move your hands while singing,
smile, walk, tilt your neck, make your eyes dance, toss your hair, sway your body, make your voice tremble—it’s all etched in my mind! With someone like you by my side, I could happily live out my life with just two saris and three meals of rice and lentils!
Even if I got nothing else in life, there’d be no pain of wanting!
Ah, if I could spend my life like that!
You wouldn’t have noticed me. I was standing right in front of you on the left, wearing a green scarf. Did you see me somehow?
I listened to your words in complete fascination. You sing so beautifully, and you speak beautifully too! When you said everyone apparently has a crush on John Lennon,
believe me,
I was thinking to myself, with you in front of me, anyone else is nothing! I was looking at you the entire time. You’re quite restless!
Why didn’t you look at me even once?
It’s true that Allah
made everyone beautiful,
but somehow I think He gave you a little extra beauty!
Isn’t that a bit unfair? Just looking at you makes me want to love you, listening to your songs and words makes me want to be in love with you. If a girl doesn’t have a crush on you,
then she’s mentally unwell!
Oh! I never even introduced myself!
If I were to introduce myself this way—that even if you are Amit from “The Last Poem,” I am not Banalata Sen of Natore—
that would be accurate. I don’t even have the worthiness to approach you. As I am,
I have never in my life desired to be more worthy than this,
but today I feel,
ah, if only I could somehow make myself a little more worthy!
You are that person I have encountered, beside whom one can sit for hours without complaint, even on an empty stomach. And alas, I am the one
beside whom sitting for even two seconds would be unbearable! You are exactly
what has been my lifelong yearning, and I am exactly what you would throw away, forgetting all courtesy, even if you received me as a gift!
Your family,
status, marital state,
wealth or poverty, health—
none of these matter to me at all,
I want only you,
at whatever cost! You would have done much better acting instead of singing. Your way of speaking is so beautiful, your sense of humor is wonderful, those stories you were telling between songs—each time I heard those stories, I fell in love anew, again and again. How one can fall in love so many times in a single day, I truly don’t know,
but I did,
this much is true!
How many photographs of you I printed and framed and filled my room with,
if only I could show you!
Everyone is utterly annoyed with me,
because I don’t live in a separate house,
I live in the dorm. Who can bear the torment of so many pictures of one person in a room,
tell me! Just thinking of you makes me want to cry. Why aren’t you mine? Why am I so unworthy? Why didn’t I catch your eye? Why does one always encounter someone
whom I suddenly desire,
yet who will never be mine?
I might not exist in even one of your thousand worlds,
yet across my thousand worlds, there is only you!
How much anguish I’m suffering, knowing I cannot have you!
Does any of this make sense, tell me?
Why does the fear of losing someone I never had torment me so unbearably? Why do I keep listening to your songs all the time,
why must I find pleasure in thinking of you?
Why do the wrong people always keep me enchanted in such deep affection?
Reflection: Three hundred.
……………………………………..
Every morning I wait hopefully to see a pair of shalik birds, but the problem is,
whenever I see shalik birds, I want to watch them quarrel! I haven’t witnessed that scene yet. Of course,
it’s not as if I’m waiting with great eagerness to see that scene either. If it’s in my fate, perhaps someday when I’m watching shalik birds, I might also get to see the shalik birds’ quarrel.
I learned about you not too long ago. I enjoyed reading some of your medium-length prose-poems,
and since then I’ve been reading you regularly. Your writing hand isn’t particularly powerful, but I like certain aspects of your philosophy of life, so I forgive the weaknesses in your writing and continue reading you still. After reading a couple of your longer pieces, I felt
I was wasting too much time, so I unfollowed you once. What’s distant
should remain distant. But the truth is
I did miss you for those few days. Today I suddenly discovered
that I’d be able to see you quite expectedly without too much effort on my part!
I’ve never seen any pictures of you on Facebook, because I use Facebook on zero-rate. So what you’re like, for me, means what your writing is like.
I don’t know what else to write,
or how rational this writing will be.
I often find you self-worshipping,
I mean, what’s called narcissistic!
I don’t know how you’ll take this note-like writing of mine. Then again I’m thinking,
you won’t express this publicly, will you? In that fear I’ve even set a nickname on Messenger. I’m not a casual type of person,
I’d call myself quite formal, and in my 23 years of life this is the first time I’m judging someone like this, and continuing to do so!
The bus is moving,
isn’t it? Shivering in the cold?
You did bring warm clothes, didn’t you? This afternoon I was very curious to know, why do you have so much anger? But I restrained that curiosity quite quickly! Your
‘Hello Khulna!’
post got likes galore! I made a comment, give it a little attention, otherwise you’ll miss something. Anyway! Do you have the habit of sleeping in vehicles? If not, doze off a little and enjoy the beauty of the moon like a half-eaten mango in the quiet night sky and the shivering darkness. Under one sky’s one moon, people sometimes see the moon’s beauty side by side, and again see that same moon from different places. You’re so busy all day,
you don’t get to wander around much, when you come to Khulna you’ll spin around like a spinning wheel,
how about that? But yes,
it’s season-change time,
be a little careful. I’m a bit excited!
Tell me, do you wear glasses?
Intellectuals do wear them. Those who don’t, they never seem intellectual when you look at them. Don’t you have sunglasses with you?
Take them out of your bag and put them on,
dust and tiny insects of the night might get into your eyes! Wherever you are,
know that a pair of eyes waits for you! Will I never be caught in those eyes of yours?
You’re coming and my easy life’s busy routine is already screwed!
Do you see my little messages? What’s your expression like when you see them?
Are you laughing now?
Do you think I’m crazy? Are you thinking all sorts of things about me in your mind? Think whatever you want!
No one has any control over thoughts!
Saw your post!
What a feeling!
Even in this cold!
Are you sleeping? Or are you awake? Even though you haven’t reached Khulna yet, your distance from Khulna is steadily diminishing! If in a little while you get off at Kumudinipara and see a starling wandering alone somewhere, then know this:
that starling has been standing there in this very cold for ages, waiting only to welcome one person! Don’t let the sight of a single starling sadden you!
And if there’s not even one starling,
then you must understand that due to some limitation or other, unable to come in person, it has nonetheless sent you a virtual greeting! Mr. Shaonjon! Welcome!
I want to call you a white bear in your own language,
but fear prevents me from ever saying it. But,
you know what?
Have a little mercy on yourself! You’re gradually transforming from a white bear into a white elephant!
I’m relieved to know that your electronic devices haven’t gone missing,
and that you still have enough energy left in your body at day’s end to post a one-line status! I won’t even
ask
whether your day has been auspicious!
It’s good that you’re not wandering too far,
and even better that you’re roaming around familiar neighborhoods. You’ll roam some more today after returning from Sardapur! But do give yourself a sound sleep at night! You know,
I saw a starling and a crow this morning. What would it be like if the starling and crow had that kind of quarrel?
Crows eat ripe fruit from trees. One characteristic of crows is
they preserve the existence of the cuckoo’s identity. Those who are somewhat intelligent might well ignore the crow, thinking it foolish!
Democratic nation—whose life,
their choice!
The river’s name is Madhumati, its water crow-black,
some diver…I’m worried about one thing—will I never get to hear your usual voice even once at the seminar without a microphone?
Ah! What have I written! I’m feeling embarrassed! Hmm
What kind of spell I’ve been under for 60 hours,
only I know and my God knows. I didn’t add anything more to those 60 hours, considering all the time I spent listening to various fantasy tales and pondering before I learned of your visit to our university. I was doubtful whether my messages even catch your eye amidst the busyness of your real life plus the flood of Facebook notifications. If nothing else,
I’m grateful to God just knowing that you’re reading my messages. Whatever
the case, it seems you don’t read my writing with attention. And I’m skeptical whether you understood what I was actually trying to convey through that crow-cuckoo business. Whatever
the case, now worship the goddess of sleep. By the way,
did you visit Rabindranath’s in-laws’ place? No problem if you didn’t. He probably never went there himself either. The women of Khulna are beautiful indeed!
The Tagore family didn’t come here looking for brides for nothing, did they? Why does the banner have “Mr.” written before your name? For some reason I found it amusing to see “Mr.” before your name!
There was so much to say. I’ve done a lot of one-sided rambling. Tomorrow is my last class after eighteen years of student life. Less than ten days remain before final exams. While everyone in class is busy studying, what am I doing—you know something of this yourself. Seventy percent of my thoughts revolve around you. I can’t even think about what I’m doing! At this stage, if any major shock comes, I truly won’t be able to handle it. You know very well that even after finishing studies, one must continue studying. I gave away my ticket for tomorrow’s seminar to someone else. I should never have told you all these emotional things! Then I could have gone tomorrow, and would have seen you too. How I regret it now!
I’m reaching out to you with one thing in mind—that reaching out doesn’t automatically create some strong commitment. What do you think of me now? I understand little of worldly complexities and don’t wish to either. You can trust this much: I don’t speak falsely or exaggerate. I’ve troubled you not because of my nature, but because of your qualities. Will you forget the pain I’ve caused?
I can’t resist sharing something the world-renowned sculptor Ramkinkar Baij once said. Many women came into his life, and left too. Some stayed for long periods. Many became models for his art. When asked about this, he answered with complete candor: “It’s true, many women have come into my life. Some came with their bodies, some with intense mental attraction. But I didn’t let any of them go. I held them, gripped them completely. I digested them and then released them as pulp. Do you know what I mean by digesting? I learned this mantra from my guru. From them were born many of my paintings, sculptures, much imagination and feeling… My models live on in my many sketches, paintings, sculptures. This is how models survive.” Here lies the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Ordinary lives too see many women come and go. What does this world gain from that, tell me? Why don’t you take the plot for some story from this madness of mine! I’d have some role there, wouldn’t I? If I couldn’t remain in your life, let me at least live on as a small participant in your creation. That would be good enough. Others write from imagination; you would write from reality. In an interview, Márquez claimed that his One Hundred Years of Solitude was entirely based on real events! Imagine that! Knowing you were coming to Khulna, the unease I’ve lived with all these days—today I’ve managed to dispel some of it at least! I truly feel good!
Have you noticed something?
I alone, like a donkey, have crafted a successful castle-in-the-air story, and you have (presumably) read it in silence. The reason for this is that in this world of brick and stone, both of us possess a tender place in our hearts — otherwise I wouldn’t have had the patience to write so much, nor would you have had the patience to read it all. But the thing is, I feel deeply embarrassed for telling you all this. I can’t understand how I lost even my minimal rational judgment and ended up doing this. Believe me, I did nothing intentionally. For the first time in my life…tsk tsk tsk! In a moment’s excitement, what a kind of violence was done to both you and me! Take this as a reader’s emotional response to the writer, because that’s the truth. With your maturity and experience, you must surely understand that I am extremely ashamed and repentant. I am sorry and apologetic for everything. I don’t have the mental strength to be humiliated before anyone. Guilt is at work! What madness have I committed! And you’re not saying anything either! The tension I’m in right now — someday, you too will be in such tension, the day you expect at least a single word from someone, but nothing will come from the other side…………
Thought: Three hundred and one.
……………………………………..
I am such a girl whose entire life has passed through wrong, wrong, and more wrong decisions. I took my SSC exam in 2011. My results were quite good too. My parents, almost forcefully, enrolled me in a college in Bogura city. After college admission, I had to come to Bogura city, leaving my parents behind. From then on, my studies began deteriorating badly. Of course, I myself was responsible for this. Falling into the company of college friends, I got involved with a boy. From then on, my daily routine was college in the morning and in the afternoon, under the pretext of private tutoring, going out with that boy. At night I’d return home, eat dinner, then spend four to five hours talking on the phone. Before I knew it, two years had passed! Meanwhile, my relationship with that boy went sour. To overcome loneliness, I again started talking to another boy. I failed three subjects in the test exam. After the test exam, on 02/03/2015, I brought my mother to Bogura to see a doctor. After examination, the doctor said there was a problem with mother’s liver. I almost forcibly admitted mother to the hospital. Mother’s tests and examinations began again. On 10/03/2015, the doctor informed us that my mother was afflicted with esophageal cancer. Father took mother from Bogura to Dhaka for treatment. Meanwhile, my HSC exam dates were approaching. The doctor said, “There’s no point in treating her. Her whole body is affected by cancer. Take her home.”
Meanwhile, my exams had begun. The doctor had given discharge papers for bringing Mother home from the hospital. After bringing her home, fluid began accumulating in Mother’s abdomen. She was admitted again to Shaheed Ziaur Rahman Medical College Hospital. I had just finished five of my exams then. After Mother’s admission, I had to stay with her at the hospital all day. Father, being in government service, couldn’t stay by Mother’s side much. Mother couldn’t even get up from bed then. My two younger sisters were very small too. They couldn’t give medicine, buy medicines, help clean Mother—none of these things. Mother wouldn’t understand anything without me during that time. I had to leave the hospital to take each exam. On 15/05/2015, my mother left me and departed from this world. The next day I still had my Computer Science exam. Somehow I had to finish those exams. Since then, all family responsibilities fell upon me. I, who had never cooked anything in my life except fried eggs, had to cook for five people. Maternal grandparents, paternal grandparents, Mother—all died within 2 years. Among them all, I lost Mother first. Then my studies stopped for 1 year. The second time, I got admitted to Government Azizul Haque College in the Management department.
Father remarried. The day after Father’s wedding, I came away to Bogura in the morning. After some time, I brought my two younger sisters to stay with me too. Father, influenced by his new wife’s schemes, became determined to get me married. I couldn’t stop them in any way. They began showing me to prospective grooms once a week. Finally, I managed to stop the marriage by shaving off all my hair. I had to endure many beatings for this. Eventually, on 27/04/2017, I married the boy I had been in a relationship with earlier, without taking any opinion from family members.
Two days after the wedding, he started treating me badly. Whenever I called, he would abuse me. After marriage, we met only twice, and even then I went from Bogura to Dhaka to see him. Both times he raised his hand against me. Whenever I call, he abuses my dead mother and father. My second-year final exams are going on now. It’s been five days since he’s spoken to me at all. His only refrain is, “So what if we’re married? Only my two friends know about it! How many such marriages happen in university life!” He tells me that I should marry somewhere else according to my family’s wishes. I don’t understand what I should do at this time. I can’t share these things with anyone either. I don’t go home anyway to escape the torment of my stepmother. I’m not given any money from home. I have to manage by tutoring. If they find out about something like this, they might even throw me out of my lodging. No one is giving me any advice or support in this matter. What can I do in this situation?
I have ruined my life. Again and again I have wanted to let myself be destroyed,
have gone to hang myself and returned, looking at the faces of my two little sisters. If I do anything to myself, my stepmother will torment them. Now she cannot because of me. I can neither live for my own sake,
nor die for theirs! I am living in such helplessness!