Thought: Three hundred and two.
……………………………………..
I’m an HSC candidate, from Arts. Lately, I’ve been suffering from severe mental distress. Since early childhood, I dreamed of becoming a police officer. I was never a good student—somehow I managed to scrape by with passing grades. I first heard about Dhaka University when I was in Class Ten, from a private tutor who came to teach me at home. From that moment on, I began dreaming of studying at Dhaka University. I started working hard to get A+ in SSC, hoping it would lead me there. All my hopes and dreams came crashing down when I received 3.94 in SSC. The circumstances around me began turning against me. Even the behavior of familiar relatives started changing somehow. In life, true well-wishers can be recognized at two moments: when you fail an exam, when you fall ill. My close relatives began taunting me endlessly. I hadn’t studied properly, I had wasted time wandering around, what more could you expect from an Arts student, and so on and so forth. Along with this, I noticed significant changes in my parents’ behavior toward me. My parents would speak to me with sharp jabs, and sometimes I even had to hear taunts about the food I ate. Both would say, “So-and-so’s son from next door, what’s-her-name’s daughter got A+, and what have you done?” When you fail an exam, even parents become strangers.
I took my SSC under Dhaka Board. After the exam, my father got transferred to Brahmanbaria. Two days after finishing SSC, we moved there with him. I began studying for HSC under Cumilla Board. I had grown up in Dhaka since childhood—suddenly, due to my father’s transfer, I found myself in a new place where I knew nothing. Tormenting me with various comments about my SSC results had become the daily routine of my family members. I was already completely shattered mentally after the results, and on top of that, I never found anyone by my side to offer even two kind words. I had no desire to study. I thought, what’s the point of studying anyway? At the end of the day, I’d still have to go to bed after hearing insults. Every day the same routine—get scolded and cry… However I am, it doesn’t affect anyone. Whether I’m suffering or doing well, no one cares about that. Life seemed terribly difficult to me then. One bad result makes life so very hard. Day and night, I would cry alone.
My parents had told me to get admitted to Brahmanbaria Government College. But I had a desire to study in Dhaka. I took the admission test for Dhaka Notre Dame College but didn’t get through. This left me even more disheartened. I then tried to convince my parents that if they got me admitted to a good college in Dhaka, I could do much better in my HSC. But my father made it clear that he couldn’t afford to keep me in Dhaka for my studies, and also said that I should follow their advice and get admitted to Brahmanbaria Government College. He said if I didn’t get admitted there, he wouldn’t spend a single taka on my education! He also said that if I continued being so stubborn, I should leave the house. In my anger, I took 3,000 taka from home and left. After a lot of searching, my father found me and brought me back home after 7 days. After bringing me home, he said I should get admitted in Comilla, not Dhaka. With a heavy heart, I went online and filled out the form for Ispahani College under the Comilla Board for intermediate admission. Despite my somewhat poor results, I got admission to Ispahani Public School and College, Comilla as my first choice due to my father’s army quota.
From the very first year, I began studying with utmost seriousness. My results in first year were quite good. In the first-year final examination, I ranked 9th in the Arts department. I was staying in a mess at the time. I didn’t like the mess environment at first. I had grown up in a cantonment since childhood. Going to the mess and living with 3 people in one room, the food, the environment… nothing felt right. Though later, everything worked out fine. After getting admitted to college in the first year, hearing the teachers speak inspirationally about Dhaka University, I began studying with doubled enthusiasm. The first year passed very well, absorbed in studies. But when I moved to the second year, for some reason I no longer liked Comilla. My studies suffered drastically. I failed the pre-test. I left the mess I was staying in and moved to another mess. Going to the new mess made my mood even worse. My family had strongly opposed changing messes, but I hadn’t listened. I had somehow managed to convince them at home and changed the mess. Then when I couldn’t cope in the new mess either, I moved to another hostel without informing my family. When my family learned about this, they scolded me severely. Then, realizing my mistake, I apologized to my parents. I took the test examination and got a result of 3.17. After this, due to severe illness, I came back home. I couldn’t study anything for 40 days.
Now I have just one tension—will I even be able to pass the HSC at all! Before this, I used to worry about getting an A+ in the HSC, and now I’m thinking, will I even pass?
Meanwhile, my father has said that after the HSC, he won’t give me any money from home. He won’t let me take coaching for the admission test either. He’ll get me a job as a police constable. I’ve had so many dreams of studying at Dhaka University since childhood! Will my dreams end like this? I want to become a police officer, but my father wants me to become a police constable. Why is my life turning out like this? This isn’t the life I wanted!
I had wanted to get admitted to DU’s law department, graduate from there, take the BCS exam, and become a high-ranking police officer!
My HSC exam is just a few days away, but I don’t study for even a minute. I don’t feel like studying at all. What should I do?
Postscript. You have to finish the immediate trouble before you can worry about the next one! First you have to get married—if I start worrying beforehand whether my son will listen to me or not, then nothing gets done!
First handle the HSC, the rest can be seen to later!
Let me tell you my own story. Three and a half months before the HSC exam—that is, after the test—I got severe typhoid. It took almost two to two and a half months to recover. I forgot almost everything I had studied. I was quite good as a student. Everyone thought I might get a board stand in the HSC. Let me clarify—board stand meant that the top 20 positions in the merit list from each education board’s Science/Arts/Commerce streams, based on total marks obtained, were considered board stands. This was how it worked before the GPA system was introduced. In our time, there was indeed a difference between getting 80 and getting 99 in any subject. Anyway, I forgot my previous studies so completely that I was doubtful whether I would pass at all if I took the exam. Everyone was telling me to drop the exam. Because I remembered almost nothing of what I had studied before. At one point I too thought, well, let me not take it this time and take the exam next time, so I can do better in the results. Then again, the GPA system would be introduced from the year after we took our exam, which was also confusing me about which system I would take the exam under!
Finally my parents said I should just take the exam. Whatever is in fate will happen. In our time, if someone got at least 750 marks total, they were considered to have gotten star marks. At least 600 meant first division, below that was second and third division. My parents said even if I got first division it would be no problem, just that I shouldn’t drop the year. I took the exam and got star marks. In our time, probably 74 of us got star marks from Chittagong College.
Life, it seems, has a way of giving us exactly what we deserve! Everything is already written in God’s ledger, after all! Yes, I couldn’t study at that time due to illness, but I had never shirked before! During my intermediate years, I had studied with inhuman dedication. The idea of not taking an exam isn’t particularly wise. Just as good preparation doesn’t guarantee a good result, poor preparation doesn’t necessarily lead to poor performance. But there’s something I feel compelled to say. In our time, we were as book-smart as today’s students are tech-smart. Books were as precious to us as smartphones are to this generation—perhaps even more so. A smartphone can utterly destroy a student of this age! Today’s young people are as heroic in the virtual world as they are zeros in the academic realm! So I remain skeptical about how much intellectual ammunition they truly possess to excel in examinations.
Let me tell you another grand tragedy from my life. Since I studied science, it was my duty to become either a doctor or an engineer. At least that’s what my parents believed. Since I was terrified of biology and had no desire to study medicine, I deliberately chose statistics instead of biology in my intermediate years. Later, I was seized by a passion to study English literature. I had an overwhelming, overwhelming desire to study English literature. At that time, studying English language and literature with devoted attention felt like the highest form of prayer to me. I had the highest marks in English in the Chittagong Board during my HSC. When I was at Chittagong College, I knew no one in our batch who knew more English words than I did. I was passionately fond of playing with language. I loved creating linguistic festivities on paper with obscure words and unfamiliar grammar. I had read several books from the English literature honors syllabus through Ramji Lal and Dr. S. Sen’s guidebooks. I dreamed of studying at the English department of Jawaharlal Nehru University in Delhi. I even cried a great deal at home, pleading to be allowed to study literature. I tried everything from hunger strikes to various other attempts. Yet no one at home listened to a word I said. The idea of storming out of the house in anger never even occurred to me. I was quite foolish and timid in those days. I would rage inwardly, feel deeply hurt, swallow my tears and sob silently within, but I don’t recall ever uttering a single word in defiance to my parents, teachers, or any elder. In one’s intermediate life, one can at best express preferences or dislikes in a feeble voice at home, but cannot really establish them. Without financial independence, there can be no independence of opinion—so such situations are only natural.
Anyway,
I couldn’t get the chance to take the BUET entrance exam because my average in Physics-Chemistry-Math was 0.06 marks short. (The requirement was an average of 72.66,
mine was 72.60. The pain of falling short by 0.06 marks is something I’ve learned from life itself.) Besides BUET, I had bought entrance exam forms from BIT,
Dhaka University, and the Institute of Leather Technology. I had taken coaching for the engineering admission test. In our time, CUET,
KUET, RUET hadn’t yet become universities; all three were collectively called BIT
(Bangladesh Institute of Technology).
Except for BIT and BUET, the entrance exam question patterns of other public universities were like the medical entrance exam. I had no idea about that pattern. I’ve always been a single-minded type of person. Whatever I don’t need, or whatever I don’t like, I never bother with. As a result, apart from the engineering admission test, I never thought about anything else. I still remember,
my father didn’t really want to take me to Dhaka for the exams. Father would say, so what if you couldn’t take the BUET exam? You’ll see,
you’ll definitely get into one of the four departments at CUET! (Father’s blessing came true.)
Still, I went to Dhaka with my father, almost by force, to take the university exams. I had heard
that Dhaka University was very big!
So I had a desire to see it too.
(Before this, I had been to Dhaka only twice.) The day before going, I borrowed a university admission guide book from one of my friends for about an hour to learn about the question patterns. With minimal preparation, I took the entrance exam for the K-unit at Dhaka University and ranked 120th. My first choice was Computer Science, which was the most coveted subject at any university in our time. I didn’t get a chance in CSE; those who were at the top of the merit list had taken CSE,
and I got a chance in my second choice, Applied Physics. Meanwhile, at Leather, I ranked sixth without any preparation. At CUET, I ranked 2nd on the merit list and, following my family’s wishes, enrolled in CSE there.
From enrollment until the very end, my entire undergraduate life was consumed by the anguish of not being able to study literature. Whenever I saw friends who were studying English literature,
I felt intensely envious, a kind of weeping worked deep in my heart. None of them were even close to me in terms of English knowledge,
but alas,
they got to study English and I couldn’t!
I still regret it — ah,
if only I could have studied English literature even once! How beautiful life would have been if I could have studied English! I couldn’t achieve anything in this life!
Ah, life!
What I wanted and what I got!
Thought: Three hundred and three.
……………………………………..
I’m not exactly in trouble, but then again I’m in quite a big trouble. Since no one knows about my situation,
I can’t discuss it with anyone to make a decision. The truth is, you can meet with someone you know,
you can even talk, but there are many things you can’t tell them,
no matter how well you know them! Yet you can tell an unknown person everything,
you can ask for their advice.
I have a relationship with someone. Today marks the 226th day of our relationship. The greatest obstacle in our relationship is that I am Hindu and she is Muslim. In the beginning, we used to talk about this a lot. We would think that this relationship has no beautiful ending, so it would be better to break up. But each time we would see that no matter how much we talked about it, each time we would deceive ourselves with various reassurances. I would cry and say, let it continue as it is now, everything will work out later. Even today, it continues this way.
Her mother had been somewhat suspicious about our situation from before. Four or five days ago, her mother directly asked her whether there was anything between us. She got scared and told her mother that there is nothing between us anymore. We are just friends. Since then, she has been constantly pressuring me to break up. We met two days ago. After meeting, I cried a lot. I explained to her that we both know there will be many problems, but let some time pass, everything will work out. After explaining like this for a long time, she said, alright, fine, let the relationship continue. Let’s see what happens! That day, coming out of the restaurant, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, whatever happens, I took a risk. What happened was that her uncle saw from a shop that she had put her hand on my shoulder. The uncle went and told her parents about it. Her mother showed my photo to the uncle and confirmed that I was indeed the girl the uncle had seen.
Since then, the “breakup, breakup” chant has started again. I told her, I am ready to give up everything for you, just don’t leave me. If necessary, I am even ready to convert my religion, just stay by my side. But she says her family will never agree to take me home and marry me against her family’s wishes. I then tell her again, aren’t we being too hasty? Let’s take more time. You’ll see, everything will work out. Then she said, our relationship has no future, what’s the point of wasting time behind it? So it’s better to break up now. Earlier pain is better than later pain. We’ll have to do this later anyway! Then you’ll suffer even more! And so on, and so forth! And now she is going around telling everyone that we have supposedly broken up, that there is supposedly no relationship between us anymore. Yet, I haven’t accepted this breakup yet. Then how did the breakup happen?
Without her, I am incomplete. To me, the whole world lies on one side, and she on the other. If she becomes mine, I am ready to do anything. She is my everything! I can never survive without her. What should I do—I understand nothing. I cannot make her understand either. She doesn’t even answer my calls properly now. I can’t figure out what would make things right. She’s not like this ordinarily, so why is she behaving this way? I’m trying everything from my end. Why won’t she try even a little? Why does she, even as a man, fear his family so much? I’m willing to leave my family, society, country—everything—for her sake. Then why isn’t she willing?
Unable to bear it any longer, I told my elder brother about this matter, trembling with fear. My relationship with my brother is very easy, like friends. But even he won’t speak in my favor. This relationship of ours will inevitably break apart! In the process, both her career and mine will be ruined. Some time will be wasted on futile pursuits, and suffering will only increase. In the real world, emotions have very little value in such matters. Relationships like this rarely survive, and even when they do, it’s only if both people become desperate to keep the relationship alive.
I’ve even threatened suicide to see if that would work, but it had no effect. I keep thinking, what’s the point of living without her? Then again I think, even if I were to die, it wouldn’t matter to her at all. So what would be the point of my death? Falling in love with the wrong person has turned my entire life into a wrong life!
Reflection: Three hundred and four.
……………………………………..
Reading your “Living on a Pyre,” I’m drowning in tears. I simply cannot control myself. Do you know why? This story is ninety-nine percent the story of my own life. Like the girl in the story, I too count the days hoping that good times will come, while continuously destroying myself. I’m finding it very hard to accept.
I read your inspirational writings and wonder—could nectar be more nectarean than this? Reading these pieces brings such joy! I find inspiration to organize my life, I find strength to live. Reading your writings, I feel that in this life, living is far more important than becoming immortal. Some people are devoted to the pursuit of immortality, while fate-stricken people like us find it difficult even to survive! To live in life, one needs more willpower than inspiration. Living, working, thinking—these are all matters of habit; inspiration plays a very minor role here. Living joyfully doesn’t require abundance, it requires a cool, shaded pathway.
I have a humble request for you. Please write something about those girls who are constantly drowning in tears because they are called short, dark-skinned, black, ugly. All their qualifications and virtues get overshadowed by the darkness of their skin. Almost every man, even if unconsciously, wants his wife to be beautiful. But this society equates beauty with height and fair skin. That’s not the true definition of beauty! Yet society thinks exactly that. Even many educated people with impressive credentials understand beauty to mean fair skin alone. Very few people pay attention to the beauty of intellect and mind. The more a nation values the beauty of the heart, the more civilized that nation becomes. But what good does saying all this do?
Our literacy rates may increase, our wealth may grow considerably over time, but such mentalities will never change.
Yes, even in this society, some people do marry the so-called ugly for various reasons. Money, property, status—such considerations make this happen. The thing is, they do marry, but then that girl has to spend the rest of her life listening to various taunts and criticisms. I see that women too are enemies of women! When it comes to arranging marriages for their own sons or brothers, they also seek the socially-defined beautiful! Many wise people say, just don’t pay attention to it! But what can be done! One has to marry because of society and family! And when marrying, one inevitably faces these very problems!
Before marriage, many people’s true nature isn’t even apparent. When there are two sisters in a family, one fair and the other dark, then there’s no end to it. At every moment, relatives, friends, and sometimes even parents will point fingers and show her the color of her skin! You tell me, what should such girls do? Perhaps you’ll say, establish yourself and show them!
Let it be!
So what!
It’s the same thing—
the family will arrange her marriage anyway!
Then there will be even more trouble!
If she’s the daughter of a wealthy or influential person, there’s no problem. And if she’s beautiful, then all sins are forgiven!
So much for society’s portrait. Now let me speak of myself. Being short and dark-complexioned never troubled me. My family never made me feel small about these things either. So the world’s cruelty hadn’t touched me quite that way before. I was the one who would explain to others: be good people, be worthy—what does skin color matter? If you can grow great in learning and thought, no one will diminish you anymore. But my belief was proven wrong by my very own life. Someone likes me at first sight. Yet within a few months, through various remarks and subtle hints, he begins revealing his mentality. This dress, those shoes are for tall girls—many such comments. Yet the reality is that girls shorter than me wear those very things with perfect ease! These words are spoken only to wound me, nothing more. My virtues, my capabilities, my good nature, my sincerity, my love, my selflessness—all of it surrenders before my height. The strange thing is, he doesn’t want to leave me either. And I cannot bear to stay away from him. For various reasons, I’ve withdrawn in hurt feelings today, temporarily. But then I think again—what he’s doing, another man would do the same. The way he thinks, anyone else would think likewise. This is the universal mentality of male society! I’ve seen this happen right before my eyes! Everyone has the same story!
I know this society will never change. Still, please write something. Because I believe those who are your devoted readers and who admire you will change their mentality at least somewhat. Among those around me, there’s so much duplicity that I can’t even tell which words to accept and which to reject. Sometimes I feel disgusted with this world. Seeing you gives me some hope. Reading your writing, I dream of surviving the daily torment and living on. I find true inspiration from three people in my life—my father, my mother, and you. Therefore, not in mere waiting but in anticipation, I remain for your writing.
Live spreading light like fireflies in the dark night—this blessing remains with you.
Oh, I forgot to mention another thing. Even after getting higher education, many men still want to marry much younger women! A professor from our university is doing his PhD from Harvard University. He’s quite educated and refined. He got married at the age of 37, when his wife was only 16, having just taken her SSC exams. She was very beautiful and from an ordinary village family. I can’t understand how the professor and his wife could have any real understanding between them. Despite much thought, I couldn’t find any logic behind the professor’s actions. My question is: if everyone wants to marry ‘young girls’ like this, then what will happen to the women who are becoming highly educated? What things they have to hear at every moment! There’s no shortage of educated people. But there’s a great shortage of truly civilized people!
Speaking of which, that professor is quite the feminist! On Facebook and at various meetings, he raises storms about feminism! But he didn’t let his wife study beyond SSC. He doesn’t follow what he preaches. Outwardly, what he shows is not what’s inside him. He doesn’t believe what he writes. Like most feminists, his character is hypocritical. Though yes, he teaches very well, writes very well, speaks very well. Such stark contradictions in a person are not pleasant.
Reflection: Three hundred and five.
……………………………………..
One.
I’ve been in love with a girl since 2011. In 2013, she got married. Two months after her wedding, her marriage fell apart. She asked me to come back into her life. She said, “I didn’t understand, please forgive me.” Without saying much, I accepted her back. I only said this much: never make such a mistake again.
In December 2014, the girl fell in love with another boy. In January, they went to the registrar’s office and got married, and five weeks later, the boy left her. The girl apologized to me again. I too, forgetting all anger and resentment, accepted her back. Then for some time, everything went well. On September 10, 2015, her family arranged her marriage from home itself. That marriage lasted 14 days. When her husband divorced her, the girl returned to her father’s house again. Her family already knew something about me. Everyone at home concluded that because she loved me, this marriage couldn’t work either. They forbade her from meeting me.
Then she told me that if I didn’t marry her, she would kill herself. I was in my second year of honors at the time. She practically forced me into marrying her through sheer coercion. After that, I brought her to my mess. I took on more tutoring, and also joined a small part-time job. To cover all her expenses, I began working day and night relentlessly. My studies suffered. I dropped a year in honors. Then the girl told me: “You’re young, so you don’t understand. Study properly. If you don’t study well and can’t establish yourself in life, you’ll never be able to take me into your home.” No one at my family home knew that I had kept her at my mess. I convinced her by saying we would sort everything out ourselves. She just needed to stay by my side. Then I began breaking my back with work, trying my best to manage our expenses alongside my studies. I would try to fulfill her various demands, feeding her even when it meant going hungry myself.
Then… on April 28, 2017, she eloped, taking another boy’s hand. She had apparently been in a relationship with that boy for about seven months. Whenever I left home, they would talk on the phone, sometimes even meet outside.
I cannot make myself understand any of this. Today she called me and said I should forgive her. That I should forget about her, focus on my career, finish my studies, and marry some other girl to be happy. I cried a lot and begged her to come back. Hearing my tears, she consoled me saying: “You’re a very good boy. Boys like you don’t exist anymore. I will love you my whole life, but I will never come before you again.”
Those were her last words. Having said just that much, she hung up and blocked me. I haven’t told anyone about this. If people heard all this, they might think badly of her, so I haven’t said anything. I never dreamed that the punishment for trusting people could be this terrible.
(Where else will you find such cute types of sacred cows, innocent oxen, adorable donkeys? If anyone finds one, please give me a missed call—I’ll call back at my own expense and find out!)
Two.
I’ve been in a relationship with a boy for two years. The way I think of him, he doesn’t want to think of me in the same way. He seems somehow indifferent toward me. Still, he wants to marry me. He doesn’t have that kind of loving pull toward me. What exists between us—from my side it’s love, from his side it’s exactly that much habit.
A few days after our relationship had passed its two-year mark, I met someone else on Facebook. He works at a bank in our area. He loves me deeply. He cares for me more than my boyfriend does. His attachment to me runs much deeper. He always looks after me. He understands my moods and petulance very well. He can read my thoughts. Through our conversations, a loving relationship has developed between us. We both care deeply for each other. But he is married. Still, he gives me so much time. He says there’s no love between him and his wife—only obligation. His wife, too, loved someone before marriage and had a physical relationship with that person. Now, even knowing about my relationship, he wants to love me. He says whatever I want will happen. Even if I marry my previous partner, he will still love me. And if I want to marry him, he’s willing for that too.
My problem now is this: I cannot let go of my previous partner. Yet I cannot marry this man either, because he is married. But I find myself drawn to him more than to my previous partner. Because my previous partner doesn’t love me the way I am, doesn’t give me time, doesn’t look after me, doesn’t understand me at all! I’m confused now—if I marry my previous partner but secretly continue loving this banker, keeping our current relationship alive, would that be terribly sordid?
Three.
I recently completed my Master’s in Law from Rajshahi University. Many of my friends have already become assistant judges, some have become university teachers. I was interested in civil service. But being born into a middle-class family, I had to abandon that dream soon enough. I now work under a senior lawyer at Chattogram Judge Court, learning the trade. A relative arranged this for me. I receive no salary now. He has said I’ll be paid after six months. The problem is, since taking this job, I’m gradually becoming alienated from my natural self. I have to pass psychological tests with them every moment. After working hard all day and returning from court, I cannot study anything for the BCS exam. I’m in tremendous mental anguish. While all my friends are preparing for the BCS exam, I’m running around all day reluctantly saying “Yes sir, yes sir” behind my senior. I can’t even leave this place because my family’s prestige with that relative would be damaged. I’ve even consulted a psychiatrist. I don’t know what to do, how to do it—I understand nothing.
Perhaps every person’s life goals are arranged in different tiers—first class, second class, third class, and so on. That is, when one cannot reach first-class goals, one must run toward second-class ones. If the second slips away, one must run toward the third. This is how people settle into some sequential goal in their life or career. But when someone suppresses their first-tier desires and tries to establish second or third-tier desires instead, how successful can they realistically be?
I cannot find any answer to this question.
Thought: Three hundred and six.
……………………………………..
My school life was incredibly, incredibly, incredibly good. I had no regrets whatsoever. Those days were beautiful. I received a golden A-plus with a scholarship in my SSC exams. This achievement meant a great deal to me. Though I knew this wasn’t the end, that I would have to overcome increasingly difficult obstacles ahead, I was overjoyed nonetheless.
I would overcome obstacles with a smile—this dream did not come true in my HSC. My result came back as an A grade. My parents had cherished dreams of getting me into medical school, and I had wanted it too, but that didn’t happen either. I had prepared only for medical school because I had no desire to study at university. When I didn’t get into medical school, I prepared somewhat for university entrance in very little time, but you can’t survive such competition with so little preparation! The opportunity for a second attempt at both medical school and Dhaka University was closed off. Then there was nothing around me but despair and more despair. I was going through a terrible phase of hopelessness. Taking several wrong decisions in college life and failing to give my absolute best—these were the root causes of my regret.
Yes, I always received support from my family. I could have taken entrance exams at other universities the second time, but somehow a kind of resentment had grown within me. I felt, what’s the point of taking exams a second time? Nothing will ever come of me! Later I realized this too was a monumentally wrong decision of mine. How can a person keep making such big mistakes so many times? Even then, my parents continued to dream big dreams for me. So what if medical school didn’t work out? Not everyone will become a doctor! It’s not as if only doctors lead successful lives! They would say such things to inspire me. In this regard, I’m very lucky. I’m the eldest daughter of a middle-class family. We are two sisters. Finding no way out, I enrolled in English at a private university. I had no desire to study English—especially not at a private university! But the cost of studying this subject at a private university was within our means. I began my studies with the hope that I could still achieve something good from here if I tried. Despair was still my constant companion. I only kept taking from my parents, couldn’t give them anything in return. Yet they continued to dream about me. They also encouraged me. Apart from just two tutoring jobs, I didn’t get the opportunity to do much else. I wanted to, but for various reasons, nothing else could be managed.
The guilt that my father was spending so much money on my education always weighed on me. Still, I always tried to be patient. The first and second semesters went well enough. A few days before the midterm exams of the third semester, an incident completely shattered my life. Everything was over! All hopes and aspirations crumbled to dust.
A road accident shattered all my dreams!
Last year on July first, just days before my midterm exams, I lost my right hand in a road accident. The doctors said my chances of survival were virtually nil. So much blood had drained from my body. Those hospital days will never be forgotten. The anguish of this tragedy will never end. No parent has the strength to witness such a fate befall their beloved child. My mother’s tears still haven’t dried. By Allah’s grace and my parents’ prayers, I am now reasonably well. Sometimes I wonder, why didn’t I die then?
This existence of mine—
what purpose does it serve? Even after returning from death’s door, thoughts of suicide often haunt my mind. Bearing the pain of physical disability is extraordinarily difficult!
But I must live, if only for my precious family. What amazes me is
that they still inspire me! How fortunate I am! Their eyes still hold so many dreams for me!
I have begun to dream again of fulfilling their dreams.
While loved ones have stayed close, many others have drifted away. Among those many are some whom I considered my own before the accident. How people can distance themselves during such adversity is beyond my limited understanding. Had they been outsiders, it wouldn’t have mattered so much. Many of them are family. I have even heard someone very close to me say, “What use will this disabled girl be to us now? What’s the point of wasting money on her?”
Perhaps this is natural, this is the world’s cruel law. After the accident, I have learned to read people. I have come to understand who wore masks all along. I have recognized those selfish souls who are companions only in good times, nowhere to be found in hardship. I once considered even those people my own who perhaps don’t even deserve to be called human!
I live now solely to fulfill my parents’ dreams. Only for them do I still dream, feel hope stir within me for doing something good. Many may wish you well,
but no one becomes as dear as parents.
I lack the courage to fight without taking quotas like the hero of your story. Life has become hell. If only I could find a little peace somewhere!
I’ve known you for a month now. First saw you on YouTube,
then on Facebook. Listening to your words and
reading your writings has given me tremendous,
tremendous, and tremendous courage. Earlier I felt nothing could be done through me, now I feel
it can. I too can succeed. I will not be defeated. As long as a person lives,
they are never truly vanquished. Those who have distanced themselves from me because of my limitations—
I want to prove to them that there’s nothing yet that warrants such distance. I am not someone who needs to be pushed away.
I told you my story to lighten the burden within me. When sorrow is shared, one feels deeply unburdened. I haven’t yet been able to summon the mental strength to labor as I should. Yet I understand that to receive something, one must give something in return. Perhaps you don’t have the time to attend to me separately, so I have just one request of you……… never stop speaking and writing for lost souls like us. A line from Nazrul comes to mind—the moon that brings tides to the sea perhaps remains unaware of its own power…………You perhaps don’t know yourself how many people you’re teaching to live. Those who live by holding your hand will remember you forever with gratitude for this work of yours.
Reflection: Three Hundred and Seven.
……………………………………..
One.
I’m in my second year of intermediate studies, in science. HSC exams lie ahead. I came to know you through one of your writings about suicide notes. I had decided to take my own life once. After reading that piece of yours, I’m trying once again to live.
I’m in deep mental turmoil. I find peace in nothing. I can’t focus on my studies either. Without meaning to, I end up raising my voice with everyone in my family. I’m in a relationship with a boy. It’s been almost two years now. There was a break in between for some time. I used to be very good at studies before. It’s not that I’m bad now, but I’m not as good as I used to be. Back then, if I scored even one mark less in exams, I would cry endlessly; now, even if I score ten marks less, I feel nothing. As time passes, I feel I’ve become quite bad. I want everything back the way it was before. But the problem is, I’ve fallen so deeply in love with him that I can’t think of anything without him. And he only fights with me. He fights over the most trivial matters. Earlier, everything felt wonderful. Even fighting didn’t feel bad. But now nothing feels good anymore. Sometimes I think he’s wonderful, that there’s no better boy than him! He couldn’t possibly be any better! But when we fight, I think he’s a terrible boy. He tortures me mentally so much, yet I truly love him. I ask him to be good, he listens to me too, but he doesn’t stay good for long—he starts fighting with me again. Then he becomes unbearable to me. His anger is excessive. He flies into a rage suddenly. My mother knows a little about him. He studies commerce, which my mother dislikes. Mother wants her son-in-law to be a doctor or an engineer. I’m caught in so many problems. I want him to study really well, to achieve something great, to become something big in life. If he can’t achieve something good, I don’t want to achieve anything good either. If we’re well, we’ll both be well together; if we’re troubled, we’ll both be troubled together. This is what I want.
My words: For all those teenage girls who believe they will marry the boy they’re in love with, come, let us observe two minutes of silence for these fools.
No interest in studies, just chasing after fleeting romances!
Then they complain:
Why am I becoming more of a fool each day?
I don’t understand it myself! Listen here, brother!
Anyone who falls in love at your age is either already an ox,
or becomes one after falling in love! When, where, and how has such love ever seen the light of day? Have the parents of such boys and girls died?
Why don’t they grab them by both ears and give them a good thrashing?
Either listen to what’s said, or else get thrown out by the scruff of the neck. Simple! If you want to fall in love, do it the day you can stand on your own two feet.
Living off father’s money,
wearing father’s clothes,
and expecting permission to romance on father’s dime too?
What would happen if they were kicked out of the house with a boot? Let them wander the streets and rot in garbage bins.
Two.
We’re the same age. He
studies at Khulna University and I’m at Azam Khan Commerce College. The first two years of our relationship went quite well. Then I noticed that suddenly he
couldn’t tolerate my friend circle at all! I had two best friends—one boy,
one girl. We were so close that anyone from class or coaching who saw us would think
I might be having an affair with that male friend. Even the coaching teachers thought the same. My boyfriend somehow found out about this. He
started thinking that maybe I had some relationship with that male friend,
otherwise why would we mix so intimately?
He forbade me from socializing many times,
but we were good friends,
and that boy was my best friend, so I couldn’t stop meeting him. From then on, he
wouldn’t let me socialize with anyone,
not even with that female friend of mine. And if he heard any boy’s name from my lips, he’d get furious. He was always suspicious of me.
He would create such scenes that people became afraid to even talk to me. Anyone who wanted to socialize with me,
he would behave badly with all of them. Then I thought, why should everyone endure such a dangerous situation because of me!
So eventually I stopped socializing with anyone. He
would skip his own classes to take me to class every day, and when my classes ended, he’d come to fetch me.
2014 passed like this. I couldn’t bear all this anymore. I felt that I too had a life. In that life I needed some freedom. Why should I live my life according to his dictates?
I started socializing with my friends again like before. He began creating scenes like before. He wouldn’t let me go anywhere,
yet I endured it all,
because I loved him deeply. He
didn’t like me socializing with anyone, wouldn’t let me go anywhere alone or with anyone else—if I went somewhere, it had to be with him, that was the rule. Going on like this, I was becoming completely psychotic! My two best friends
recently got into a relationship with each other. When I told him this, he flared up, saying that boy is just acting like this to get cozy with you! Hearing this, I couldn’t understand what one should say after hearing such a thing!
Meanwhile, there are many problems at home too. Now that I’ve grown up, marriage proposals are bound to come—it’s natural. But what can she do in this situation! She hasn’t even completed her studies yet. I would have tolerated everything, and I’m still tolerating it all. If women can’t do anything else, there’s one thing they excel at—they can truly love. Once they fall in love like that, they accept all wrongs and cruelties.
In between, she got stuck in session jams. Now my BBA is complete, but she has fallen far behind. Because of all these troubles, her anger keeps growing day by day. The incompetent shouldn’t have so much rage, but who will make her understand this? None of my friends can stand her. Even my cousins can’t. Earlier, whenever we met, she would snatch my mobile phone and fight about who I chat with and such things. That stopped at some point. Wherever we go, she scolds me about my friend circle! My friends are bad, they’ll never achieve anything in life—and many more such words! I’ve grown tired of enduring all this. I can neither leave her nor keep her without great difficulty. Meanwhile, family is pressuring me to get married. I don’t know what to do—I can’t understand it myself.
Lately, I remain in deep depression. All the negativity that exists seems to happen only to me! I don’t understand why this is happening! Due to mental stress, my results are getting worse day by day. Our relationship has become somewhat like Tom and Jerry—we fight all day, but neither of us can leave the other.
I have observed that relationships are such that… the tighter you bind, the more they flee! To put on shackles means to create a path for breaking bonds. Relationships survive on the strength of mutual respect and trust alone. If a relationship must be carried forward in such a suffocating state, how can normalcy remain in that relationship? And what’s the point of walking together with someone I cannot even trust? Can a heart ever be bound by force?
Reflection: Three hundred and eight.
……………………………………..
I am Reba. A very ordinary girl. I am that girl from Rabindranath’s poem “The Ordinary Girl.” Don’t think I’m trying to impress you. I have a wish—I want to know about those aspects of you that you don’t present before everyone. What more should I write! If I write too much, you’ll think me aggressive, and immediately all your interest in me will meet an untimely death. Then perhaps I’ll lose you altogether.
I couldn’t resist sharing something amusing. A new atmosphere has been created on our campus. The name of this atmosphere is the BCS atmosphere. Everyone is desperately engaged in preparing for the BCS examination en masse, and seeing this makes me very angry. Taking printouts of your various writings or cutting out your guidelines from papers and keeping them before their eyes, studying accordingly, everyone is cheerfully finishing off their life and youth. On our campus… you came, you spoke, and it was done! Shubhra Dev’s song lyrics are playing in my head… I am that pied piper of Hamelin, I will play the flute in perfect tune… you must come!
This morning, on my way to the department, mistaking clouds for fog, I struck up a friendship with the mist. It didn’t feel bad at all. Just me on the empty road, the fog, and some romantic songs in my headphones. I danced and swayed in the wind on that deserted street several times… yet I kept thinking, what if someone sees me!
Now I’m paying the price for this morning’s fun—cough, headache, fever. I don’t feel like taking medicine. If I take medicine and get well, my roommate’s care and affection will diminish.
I watched Raj Kapoor’s ‘Aurat.’ Pyar hua ikrar hua hai… pyar se phir kyun darta hai dil… ah, honey! I don’t know why, but while watching the film, I kept thinking, ah, if only I had long hair and wore it loose always!
I’ve become quite the slacker these days. I have no desire to study at all. I’ve kept mother at bay with slightly better department results, otherwise she would have dragged me by the ears to my in-laws’ house long ago! For mothers, getting daughters married is everything! There’s always an alarm clock ringing in my mind—Hey Reba! Study! Or else marriage! I don’t want to get married, but I can never make mother understand this. So I study just to escape marriage. Anti-marriage campaign—that’s my primary motivation for studying! All my education is marriage-preventive education! When I study, mother doesn’t even scold me for not getting married. When anyone speaks to me harshly, I feel terribly hurt! And when I’m hurt, I don’t enjoy anything at all, nothing feels good.
Two years ago I fractured my waist and right hand in a road accident. So I have to be careful. But I love dancing so much. Whenever no one’s in the room, I dance. Just a little while ago I danced for a long time to “Jhum Balika, Jhum Balika, Jhumajhumajhum.” My waist hurts a lot, but still I’m so happy to have danced. I’m truly joyful. If my waist didn’t hurt, I would have danced even more.
This morning was quite boring! Today I didn’t get to go to the department through the mulberry garden. I didn’t get to run from the gate straight to class. Today I didn’t blow flying kisses to Dibya and Tulika. I didn’t wink at Mou. I didn’t hug sexy killer Poushi. Today I didn’t sing parodies upon seeing ‘Tela-Banti.’ I didn’t give flowers to Nokib. I didn’t tease Sadia about her new boyfriend. I didn’t smear Jui’s lipstick below her lips. I didn’t make faces at Javed sir. I didn’t steal marigolds from Masum mama’s garden to put in my hair. Today I didn’t chit-chat with Nirjhar. I didn’t hear the tung-tang of campus rickshaws. I didn’t have sweet tea at Robi kaka’s shop. Nothing happened today! No, no, no! Nothing was done today! Today is a complete waste! How much one misses when not going to campus for just one day!
Just now I had a fight with mother. I don’t want to behave badly with anyone. Even if I speak loudly to someone, I keep feeling terrible afterwards. Damn! I’m such a bad girl! Nothing feels good to me! I feel like crying for mother, but I don’t want to call her and apologize either! Blast!
Well, from which corner of Bangladesh are you sitting right now, enjoying all my madness?
Your followers are growing by the day. Today it’s 12,557.
Haven’t you noticed? Both your anguish and
your troubles will increase! Still………not bad!
I feel like being terribly jealous of you!
May I?
You won’t give me those yes/okay/hmm responses ever again, will you! What would happen if you gave slightly longer answers?
Would it cause you great harm?
You know, I’m remembering Baba so much. The butterflies in the bottle are fluttering terribly!
But I’m helpless, I can’t do anything—I have to make an insect-box with them! They’re suffering,
and I’m suffering too!
God is suffering watching me, and so am I. Baba,
are you well? I loved you so much, Baba! I never said it. Baba, stay well,
won’t you? Baba, you know,
when Ma talks about you, somehow she starts crying!
Then I can’t stay angry with Ma anymore. Why did you leave these two crazy women and go away,
Baba?
How are you?
Reading your writing, it seems your mind is quite disturbed! Well,
have you forgotten me? Or
do I not come to mind anymore?
Returning to my room from the rally, I released the butterflies. Though most of them had died. Until I was releasing them, I somehow felt like a soldier of the Pakistani army. I was very happy to give this news to my group partner. And hearing it, the poor thing got fired up!
She scolded me a lot. I’ll get fewer marks in the evening exam, but I have no regrets,
rather I feel quite peaceful.
Shall I share something funny?
This evening…………no, I won’t tell!
You’ve probably forgotten me anyway!
What if I get both angry and hurt with you right now?
Alright, let me tell you!
I can’t stay angry with anyone for very long. If I hold onto anger too long, I suffer myself. The funny thing is, there’s been a craze for olive pickles in my hall. Especially on my floor. The girls are enthusiastically making pickles for their boyfriends or husbands and having me taste-test them. I apparently have good taste! From eating all these pickles, I’m about to get an upset stomach!
On my balcony table was Sylvi apu’s pickle—I ran and had three spoonfuls!
But I wasn’t alone,
everyone except Sylvi apu ate some under the guise of giving opinions!
Later we found out she had kept that jar to give to her brother!
What happened next, you can imagine!
None of us confessed,
because we were all guilty. Poor thing worked so hard making pickles for someone,
and couldn’t even feed the person she made it for!
But yes,
the pickle was actually very tasty!