- I'm sorry, brother. I can't do it. - So you don't really think of me as your own after all! This is what it amounts to? - Do I need financial help to prove that? When one person tells another, Don't leave me, it means offering emotional support! My hand will never heal...not unless I go to places like India and all that. Because I've already spent every penny of my tuition fees on doctors and got nothing in return. This time itself is the wrong time. Now honesty should be rewarded like this, and it has been! - Can't I stand beside you, even a little? Can't I help you? As a human being, isn't it my responsibility? - Help? I need emotional support, nothing else! And let me say one more thing. When I send you a text, I'm afraid. Even a typo in a message to you causes me real pain! You haven't even called me. Remember that. - You didn't let me stand beside you—remember that more! - You think I'm not letting you stand? If I don't, your interest in me will end? If I do, will it? If interest fades so quickly, at least the words Don't leave me won't fade! Keep that in mind! - I know. But you just want to keep me at a distance. - Just like you want to keep from calling me! Listen, a while ago my students made fun of me for teaching with the lights on. If I respond, I lose today's meal...I didn't say those things to get a few sad responses. I said them because I wanted to cry loudly with you over the phone once. There's no one in my life I can cry to. In this world, so many keep you company in laughter—but who shares your tears? Tell me, who does a person cry in front of? Only before someone they truly consider their own. Whatever the case, I'm no one to you, and I never will be. An outsider stays an outsider...Now think about it—would you ever make such a request yourself? Someone you haven't even properly met, someone you've only talked to on messenger—would you ask them for help? And financial help at that? Would you ever write about your own shame, your own defeat, to anyone on messenger? Could you have written it? But I did. No one wants to see themselves as a defeated soldier, let alone show it to others! That took courage, which I displayed. Of course, I would never have written otherwise. The only reward I got for suffering was this trivial story, which is why I told it on messenger. I am no one's. I have nothing in this world. There's no one for me. - How do you teach with the lights off? - I don't know. The same way you can live for 21 years with darkness smeared on your skin and in your eyes. - I really want to know! Can you actually teach with the lights off? - Don't ask me—ask your God! The electricity bill will go up if I turn the lights on, that's why! My mother won't let me use the house's electricity for my tutoring. I'm earning money; why should I use the house's resources for it? Now do you understand? Anyway, goodbye! - I don't have a good relationship with God like that. We kind of leave each other alone. So I can't ask Him right now. - Ah! Irony of the year! So with whom exactly do you have a good relationship?
He who could answer everyone—if he says there is no good relationship, then there is nothing left to say.
– Why do you think you won’t be able to answer?
– I wanted to scream and cry, wanted to scream…listen to the song once more, you’ll find your answer! After that, forget about me and busy yourself with something else.
She was born on December 9th, this greatly unfortunate woman. She’ll be twenty-six. Everything remains as it was before! Bah! Let it be so! If I don’t get any job or income, surely no boy will come either. Boys say they don’t want to eat off their wife’s earnings, yet they won’t marry someone who doesn’t earn! And it can’t be just any job—it has to be the kind that erases the past. That’s the thing! And the kind of effort that requires—I’ll never be able to do that again, your God Himself has made that clear to me. The medical report says I won’t recover, I’ll have to drag through life like this. All my girlfriends have married men with big jobs. And me? Knocked down twice on Facebook, sitting here! Does anyone get married without family? Yes, in the movies. Even if I weren’t so beautiful, it might have worked. Looking in the mirror only hurts more. I am a bald girl who just won a comb! In spite of having all the required qualities, I will not be accepted by anyone! What a destiny! Just praiseworthy! There is nobody to feel my agony! People pretend as if they realized me…at the end of the day, I am left with only humiliation! May no other Nira ever be born in this world to suffer the torment I suffer. Let my suffering alone mark the end of such a history. I will never wait another second for your phone call, not once in my life. Goodbye! In spite of having all the required qualities, I will not be accepted by anyone!
– Good morning! How are you?
– The Outsider…Albert Camus…written on Existentialism. Such a favourite book!
– That’s my favourite topic too.
– Mine as well!
– Will you tell me your love story—I mean the relationship with him, from beginning to end, and till now? I want to write about it.
– Along with Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things! Terribly beautiful! If you don’t read these two books, I’ll say it like you would—it’s quite a sin!
– I haven’t read either of them yet.
– Your love is connected to The God of Small Things…somewhat! I’m not explaining it with details! When you have time, read it. The texts are short, but the space of feeling is vast! In a small space you’ll see the picture of a world so much larger.
– I’ll read it then.
– Society gives us so many rules and regulations, and to love someone outside of them isn’t just wrong—it’s downright a “luxury,” like the sin of Mritunjoy in the story of Bilasi! There was a line there—Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much. Such a truth, such a hard truth, whatever you call it—few writers besides Arundhati Roy could write it so easily. Society doesn’t want its people to walk outside society’s rules and norms. Yet when someone walks within those very norms and falls into sorrow, society no longer stands by them. There is no one to bear the sorrow, no society to carry it. One must bear one’s own sorrow alone.
You’ve noticed, haven’t you—I was speaking from fear today! I was stammering!
…I’ve been living inside this pain—unreplied messages! Countless of them! Nothing but *seen*. Someone reads my message, sees that I’ve sent it, but feels no urge to write back two lines. I’m not someone worth replying to! I’m someone a person can see, but not someone they need to answer. Yes, I’m that kind of person.
– You gave me the wrong Bkash number.
– I don’t have Bkash activated on that number. I have Grameenphone.
– Give me that one then. The GP number.
– Is this right, sir?
– You won’t give it?
– Sir, I can get the therapy done next month. Once I get my salary, I’ll take it then. Just a few more days!
– Leave it in Bkash—you’re not spending the money right now anyway, are you?
– There’s a condition! You can’t think of me as just Facebook anymore. You’ll share life’s little things with me. Only then can I take it.
– Done!
– I’m giving you the number. It’ll take a moment…Check your email for the Grameenphone number!
– Thanks. There’s so much peace in being able to give something to someone special. Thanks again!
– Am I special? Really? Or did you just say that because you’re giving me the money? Well…if I take this money from a right today, and then I can’t exercise that same right over you, then one day I’ll be offended too and delete you from my friends list!
– Done.
– Please don’t leave me! I laughed today for you after so long. After so many months, I laughed. From a single call from you, I laughed with my whole heart after days.
– Laugh. You should laugh. Have you eaten? Tell me the truth!
– Yes. You?
– …Will you do me a favor? Send me a picture—one that you really like of yourself?
– Yes, I will.
– You haven’t sent the picture? I could’ve found one myself from Facebook. But I want a picture you’ve chosen yourself. A clear one, where your face shows. Do you have a favorite like that?
…What is this you’ve sent! Are all your favorites pictures where you’re turning away? Nose, eyes, everything’s clear in some pictures—don’t you have a favorite where we can see you properly? I’ve seen so many! Actually, let me find one for you!
…I need a single picture. Come on! Wasn’t there a picture of you wrapped in a shawl? Taken in winter, at Mitu’s place, in Sylhet. What you’ve sent is already on Facebook. Send your favorite—your absolute favorite! Last chance! Think it over and send it! I really need a picture of you…
…When someone doesn’t mark your messages as read…how does it feel! It’s really a crime!
– I don’t have it in my collection. I’d have to find it from someone else.
– I feel terrible taking your money. Will you give me your Bkash number, please? And are those three pictures really your favorites? I really wanted a picture! Won’t you give me one?
– I really don’t keep my pictures organized like that on my laptop. And honestly, I don’t have any favorite picture. I lost thousands of pictures with my old account. Can you imagine—personal pictures I had no backup of! So much time, effort, and money went into creating them. So much emotion was tied to so many of them. Some pictures had stories, had laughter, even tears. Today none of that exists anymore! How easy…it is to lose things. After that, I don’t have much enthusiasm or feeling for pictures anymore. If you keep asking, it creates psychological pressure in me. Why don’t you take what I’m giving you and be happy with it! Even what I give you isn’t pleasing you.
# On photographs, on understanding, on the bonds of the soul
I have no feeling left for photographs the way I once did. Without favorite photographs, what am I to do? I could pretend, of course—invent some names, claim this film or that moved me. But I don’t want to lie to you, not to at least one person. Let me be honest and unguarded for once. Forgive me.
— Mental pressure! What a lovely choice of words! Bravo!
— Yes, I’ve said it—my enthusiasm for photographs has vanished. There was a time, once, when I was mad for it, I’d take pictures constantly. Not anymore. Do you ever see me sharing photographs on Facebook? My wall holds only words, no images. When I go anywhere, everyone else snaps away gleefully. I don’t take pictures—though I take them for others. There was a time when I wanted to trap myself in every frame! Now I prefer to watch the nature around me, try to understand how people behave. There’s a gain in this, certainly. Once I saw the world through a camera lens; now I see it through my eyes. Whatever you may say, whoever sees the world through their own eyes and holds it in their heart—that person can behold the world with a joy that escapes the one who frames it for Facebook and Instagram. Those people will never understand such joy.
— Alright, spare me the fireworks of too many words. I don’t need photographs.
— I could give you pictures, but the truth is, I don’t really think about what’s favorite or what isn’t. The idea of declaring any photograph as my favorite—it doesn’t come to me anymore. What can I do? Here, take these few, from the other day.
— I told you, I don’t need them. Stay away from mental pressure. I need nothing.
— You’re getting angry. I’m a person nobody in this world has ever truly understood. Everyone uses me; nobody wants to hold me close. Everyone expects me to endure them, but nobody endures anything of mine. Everyone walks their path with my direct help, yet no one has ever let me walk my own. I live my own life on others’ terms. Anyone can say anything to my face. I am this world’s dustbin—I silently collect everyone’s verbal waste. I rot myself to keep everyone else fresh. Everyone does this to me, and you’ve only just begun to know me. You won’t understand—that’s natural. But this is the wound: you’re misunderstanding me. Look at the kind of life I have. Those who know me misunderstand me; those who don’t yet know me also misunderstand me! Can you find anyone like me, someone so effortlessly, so smilingly misunderstood?
— I will never leave you until you leave me. But I didn’t ask for all these photographs. I asked for just one—a photograph you actually loved! And you’ve sent me every picture in your phone! It’s simple work, isn’t it—select and send. That’s all you did, right?
…Look, how is this one?
…In this world, there are so few people who ask how you are, who want to be near you. Their messages need checking. How many will seek you out without asking for anything in return, who will stay beside you only because they love you, asking nothing of you but that—can you count them? So when that daily message suddenly stops coming, you must at least check once a day, must think—why didn’t it come today?
This is how we keep the bonds of the soul alive.
# The Bonds of the Soul
The bonds of the soul know not how to rage—they only know how to depart in silence, bearing a heart full of hurt. Those who depart will one day reveal themselves through the silence of some lonely night, as they have before and as they will again…they will, assuredly! There are certain customs in this world that are observed quietly, in solitude—century after century! No one can see them with their eyes; one can only feel them.
—Please, do not misunderstand. I was out all day. I came home at night and wrote poetry, and even now, in this weary body, I continue to study. I am truly busy; I must truly be busy. I do not live by work alone, by social obligation and domestic life. I must cultivate my mind, must give time to that proud lover called ‘writing.’ If I did not have to do even that much, I could have lived at ease. I would have had much leisure, could have spent life with a bit more comfort, like any other person. But whoever is called to create finds all the pleasures of life come through suffering. By turning away from many earthly joys and burning oneself, one glimpses the light. There is nothing to be done about it. No one will ever understand what kind of painful life this is! The joy of creation is infinite…the joy of venting one’s anger is nothing compared to the joy of creation, nothing at all—it is far greater! This is a mighty love, and there is no escape from it. When one falls into such love, one cannot even understand it oneself. And then? One must learn how to carry that love, what will make the beloved happy, that strange compulsion to ever elevate oneself as a lover—there is no manual for all this, no map of that path. Only a blind groping forward! By the way, do you know that constantly misunderstanding someone is a dreadful disease? Now I shall sleep. Be well. Good night!
…Good afternoon. Are you still angry? Or busy?
…Good night.
…Good morning! You have such pride! Well, never mind—are you well?
—Sir, my respects! In just these few days, you have assigned me many epithets. It does not matter! You have only been here for a few days, so it is only natural. In a place where one is merely a guest for a few days, one can say many things. But in a place where one is not a guest but a resident, when one speaks of it, the tongue grows heavy, something catches in the chest, it falls back upon oneself! I offer you my regret and condolences, because you still do not understand the difference between hurt and anger. In any case, I shall remain grateful to you for as long as I live for standing beside someone as poor as me in my time of need. You were right when you said that misunderstanding someone is indeed a disease. I had misunderstood you. Even when a small text came from you these last few days, tears rolled from my eyes. When you did not reply, I felt a certain pain within my chest. ‘Attachment’ is a terrible thing, you know? When one begins to feel even a little affection for someone, one wishes to indulge them…and then that affection becomes shelter in this heart, and before one knows it, it grows and swells at a reckless pace in that safe chamber of the mind, and no one even realizes it! That is why it must be erased before it grows too much!
I shall never again put you under any mental strain, nor shall I misunderstand you for not seeing my message. You are left forever. Are you happy?
# My Sympathy Remains with You
—I have a handful of people in this life who are the most precious to me—and the most necessary. And yet I never text them, never call them—sometimes not for months on end! Calling, messaging—it’s simply not in my nature. What can I do? That’s the truth of it. But for this failing, they have never misunderstood me, even though they would, quite literally, give their lives for me without hesitation. I love them just as fiercely. There is nothing I would not do for them. If any of them told me to jump from the roof of that eleven-story building, I would do it without a moment’s doubt—because I carry within me a faith, a certainty, that some provision has been made so that even in the jumping, I would not die. This is not foolishness; this is trust. When a parent tosses their child into the air, the child laughs—not because of recklessness, but because of dependence, because of faith. There is no one more wretched in this world than someone who has no one to believe in. Such a person cannot speak to anyone; all the unsaid pain accumulates in their chest until they can barely breathe! Speaking aloud, sending messages—perhaps these are good, but they don’t sit right with me. Had I possessed some mania for staying in touch, some habit of constant communication, I might have become one of the most powerful people in this country. I have had the opportunity to move among great people in my life, and I have not maintained even occasional contact with them. Those who remain in my life are here because of their own worth, not because of anything I have done. They expect nothing from me. This is my greatest good fortune! To find a friend who expects nothing—that is to possess the supreme wealth of life itself.
I hope you have read what I have said. Now, if you wish to leave, you may. No one can be held against their will, and I would not do such a thing. I want everyone to live their life on their own terms. To force someone to live by your rules instead of allowing them to live by theirs—that is a profound sin.
—Listen, sir. I am neither precious nor virtuous to you. I am merely one ordinary, insignificant follower among countless others. I was born with a peculiar fate. Wherever I have given a hundred percent—to someone, to some place—I have returned home empty-handed. When I was on campus, living with complete integrity, going without food or water, spending entire days running about with my bag on one shoulder, studying, not even getting a meal when I returned home at eight in the evening, writing every exam with perfect honesty—even then, I received a GPA far below what my merit deserved, while those who danced all day, sang, cheated expertly, they received everything. Expensive clothes, expensive food, expensive friends, expensive marks, expensive happiness, and everything else that is expensive—all of it belonged exclusively to them. Life gives everything to those who barely care about life at all.
I have given people priceless emotion and received nothing but humiliation in return. Life has taught me only this: I will never receive even a fraction of the value in return for my hundred percent emotion and honesty from anyone. Once, this was painful to accept. Now it no longer is. I have never been anyone’s “regret”—I have been their mental burden. And not just to one person! No one has ever sighed for my sake, not once. You wrote in your poetry—someone once said to you, “May your lifespan be mine instead.”
I did not merely say it in words. I lived it.
# A Matter of Thresholds
I fasted for two years, offering prayers at the temple for someone I loved. There were days when I didn’t have fifty taka for university—not even that. How many times did I go without food to buy offerings, then stand before the deity with an empty belly and beg: keep him well, let him suffer no pain, let his body stay strong. And that very person—he’s on his honeymoon with his wife now. I could never become anyone’s regret. Never.
You asked for a picture—just one, for some reason. And you? You gave me all of them at once. Imagine: you want to have a simple conversation with someone, and they start reciting the entire alphabet to you—vowels and consonants, everything memorized and mechanical. How would that feel? You don’t know where exactly in my heart you drove the knife. That single picture carries such a nightmare within it that…
Listen: in these twenty days, you became a *maya*—an illusion, a beautiful deception—for me. You became the person I’d check obsessively: Are they online? Did they message? Will they call? I was fragile about these things. I wasn’t angry when I cried—I was heartbroken. People don’t cry from anger; they cry from wounded pride, from pain. You couldn’t understand that. Of course you couldn’t. I was only a guest for twenty days, after all.
I searched for so long, found a picture, and asked: how does this look? Perhaps you saw it. Perhaps not. How would I know? You never replied. The reason I asked for that picture in the first place—it doesn’t matter anymore. Be well, physically and mentally. That’s all I’ll wish for you from a distance now.
—
You judge too quickly. It’s a terrible habit. Don’t blame the whole world for the pain in your own life. Someone hurt you, and now you’ve decided to hurt everyone else in return—as if that will even the scales. What difference is there between you and that person then? I wouldn’t do that in your place. Learn to receive people with a human heart. Must we inflict such wounds with every word? Making someone bleed through speech or gesture is a kind of sin. In the end, we’re all just people, aren’t we?
And this picture is lovely. I forgot to check it, or didn’t notice. Why are you taking off your own shoe to beat yourself with? Learn to forgive. Learn to accept people simply. You’ll find so much peace. You grew up enduring cruelty—but does that mean you must become cruel yourself? The truth is, someone like you—honest, direct—can’t be taken lightly. People swallow deception with a smile instead. That’s why such a person was meant for you. You say whatever comes to your mouth. What does that mean? How well do you really know me? At all? I’m telling you again: learn to be humane. There’s no greater quality in a person than that. And yet you keep hurting me, judging me, speaking harshly. Why? Do I deserve it?
Even if I die, it means nothing to you. And you wish me wellness? How generous! Here’s a simple truth for you: never create a space of expectation with anyone. I don’t anymore. Not even with my own family. Even when I die, if no one comes to pour water on my lips, I won’t die grieving.
I spoke from the heart! And even if you hold expectations, when they go unfulfilled, don’t beat the poor fellow with your sandals like that. He truly doesn’t deserve it.
– Ah! Best reward ever!
– Stop judging! Stop judging! Stop judging! It hurts! No one on earth deserves your judgement. Be a human being first, then be a judge…even better, if you don’t become the second one at all and remain just a human being!
…Good morning!
– There exist in this world certain fools, born for the sole purpose of bothering someone to whom that fool is utterly worthless. The fools text relentlessly, the messages stretch long, resembling something like cattle-composition. The texts arrive after five or six hours, seen too, but remain unanswered! The fools think, maybe if they write badly enough, at least they’ll send some lines. But no, no reply comes. And if ever a reply does arrive, seeing it makes you feel that perhaps staring at unseen messages for a billion years would have been far better than receiving such a response. Then one day, when their back is completely against the wall, the fools’ messages begin to shrink. Yet they still check whether that person is active or not, whether they’ve been blocked, examine every detail! One day they discover they’re blocked…from every means of contact! Yet the fools remain fools. They stare at the calendar, counting how many days remain until their birthday…even now, just as before, they lose sleep, they count the hours! Has that person forgotten them completely? Perhaps they have. For some people, the diary of oblivion is the only place where survival exists! Thus do the fools’ lives pass, weaving false dreams of living in another’s life, while that other person lives immersed in the busy pursuits of fulfilling their own dreams. The fools know only how to weep and how to love.
…Tell me, if I give you something as a gift, will you accept it? If you say ‘yes,’ it will make me happy.…A request from an inhuman, angry, stubborn human being!
…Then nobody stays! Don’t leave me in spite of getting hurt…You, like a talisman, are believed to have magical power upon me. You can make me laugh, even you can make me cry…I know, you got hurt at my unexpected behaviour. But I am not what I am. See me through my eyes, you will feel my inner soul…Let not your mind make a conclusion about my outward appearance. I can’t make anyone realize what I feel inside. Everyone judges me outwardly…then leaves me. Never be like others. If you leave me, I will be collapsed!
– Good morning! I will accept the gift, but only after you get a job, not before.
– Sir, it will take me so very very long to find employment!
…Like in Sunil Gangopadhyay’s poem—I have searched all through the vast world and brought back 108 blue lotuses! …Just like that, after much thought and much searching, I wish to give you something as a gift! I want that even when I am no longer here, the thing I give you will remain with you for a lifetime! I beg of you, don’t say no. Don’t return it to me. It will hurt me so very much! One hundred and eight…
…Have you eaten? Is your body well?
– Don’t say it like that. I’ve already said I’ll accept it. How are you?
– I’m well. Did you eat last night? There’s been no trouble in the meantime, has there? Is everything alright?
– Everything is fine, I’m here too…still, so far! Good morning!
– I sent you a song link yesterday. Listen to it. The words are true; listen and match them against yourself.
Did you eat anything at noon? Did you go home?
– Yes, I did. I eat at the office, don’t go home. Have you eaten?
– No! I don’t feel all that hungry anymore these days. Of course, missing a meal or two doesn’t matter. I’m used to it now. When someone leaves me, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Rather, when someone wants to stay with me, I’m startled now! It feels like something somewhere is terribly, terribly wrong…When did you eat, then? Please eat something if you haven’t.
– Mm. You ate later?
– Yes! How are you? I’ve been thinking of you all day! You’re such a simple-hearted person. You seem tough on the outside, but inside you’re soft, absolutely soft! Seriously! Whatever comes to your mind, you just say it—you don’t think of anything else at all! You express what’s in your heart so fluently without worrying what others might think. What amazes me most is that you decided to stand by my side in a moment, without even knowing me well! Truly standing by someone’s side…it’s not easy at all!
…I’ve been thinking of you so much today. If ever I feel like talking a lot, may I call you and just listen to your voice a little? Will you give me that permission? I won’t say anything, I’ll just listen to your voice! You were born with a strange gift!
– I have far, far less gift than you do.
– The gift I’m going to give you, you simply must accept! I’m telling you as a matter of right.
…Have you eaten? Today I won’t have to read your long messages. Please eat if you haven’t. It’s very important to love yourself. I’ve talked too much. My heart really isn’t well today. Not at all.
– What do you mean by your status? Why did you write “Death is preferable to dishonor”?
– No. The earlier one.
– The earlier what? I didn’t understand.
– Some old pictures of yours.
– Where did you find them? But I had asked you something! The answer to that…
– I can’t tell. There’s more…I have many of your old pictures. I’ll ease the pain of your losing them, at least a little. And I won’t give you the answer. We can only live in this world because we don’t have to answer every question.
– Ease the pain? You can’t. It’s impossible.
– Where should I send something to you? Will you tell me, please? I’ve searched carefully for so long, I want to give you something. I’ll give you something that no one has ever given you before. Please, don’t say no.
– When we meet sometime, give it then.
– Please! Honor my request! I kept my word to you.
– I told you, later.
– I gave this gift to someone else once. He hurt me so much, so much. After that, I decided I would never give anything like this to anyone ever again! And now, after so long, I’ve chosen you to give this gift to. I’m walking the same path again…that old path. People like me, fools that we are, never learn. Perhaps I’ll have to accept that same fate again, but still I’ll give the gift! Please, don’t say no to me.
– I’ll take the gift later, not now.
– It’s not a gift!
– Then what is it? A diary—blank or full?