The Sylheti Tongue

: Who are you?

: Oh my, what a horribly fundamental question! This inquiry has been going on since the pre-Socratics. It still hasn’t ended. Socrates just said “know thyself” and called it quits! He didn’t tell us how to know, did he? As if that path were so simple! We’re still trying to find that path. Even the Sufi mystics didn’t give us a complete method. When this journey of self-examination will end, even the sages don’t know—and I’m just a person insignificant as grass! How could I know who I am! If I could know that, I’d achieve moksha! Ah!

Never mind about me! I have no interest in who you are. By the way, are you a very happy person?

: I don’t think so.

: Who knows what brings happiness to whom, and how much does anyone really understand about it? I don’t know you well, actually. You have so many friends, so many people follow you—seeing all this made me curious about you. Women just can’t live without curiosity! You understand, don’t you! Though I wasn’t expecting a text from you. I won’t ask where you found me. Since I’ve made myself available on Facebook, I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t be able to find me. I’m not interviewing you, though. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m quite a harmless sort of creature. I know I’m being bothersome. But if you’re enjoying this, I mean, if you consent to it, then it’s perfectly fine. And if it’s otherwise, then I’m sorry.

By the way, if you first consent and indulge me and then later if I or my words no longer seem enjoyable to you, don’t go around saying that you were unwilling to talk with me, that I forced myself on you and shook out my bag of stories as I pleased! I hate those people who go to bed in the name of love and then, when love fades, go to the police station. Such hypocrisy is unbearable!

: Your introduction?

: Again? Sir, you haven’t changed at all, you’ve remained the same! All right, fine. I’m a student. I’m acquiring knowledge about a subject whose application doesn’t depend on actual truth, but on the power or powerlessness of both the subject it’s being applied to and the one who’s applying or having it applied. Especially in this unfortunate country, where how serious or trivial an incident is gets determined by how much it’s being sensitized or not; the incident’s own nature or truth carries no weight at all………..in such a country, though my field of study is quite powerful on paper, it’s not very powerful in the field. Even a murderer can walk around with a victory garland if he can bring everything to his side. The other day I heard a villain in a movie say something valuable—in this country, 95 percent of work gets done with money, the remaining 5 percent gets done………with more money! The movie was cheap, but that line was precious. In this country, even if billions of taka disappear, it’s not an incident if the authorities don’t consider it an incident or if no one acknowledges it as one. But look, sir, even if two taka goes missing, out of suspicion or hearsay or by somehow turning that lost money into a big incident, several murders can happen! We’re such strange residents of a bizarre country! Anyway, you’re wise, I’m sure you’ve understood by now—I’m studying law. Law is the blindest knowledge in the world. Law is so blind that it’s indifferent to its own blindness!

I’m just an ordinary person. Neither here nor there. If I were a saint, you’d know me, and if I were a devil, you’d know me too. A line from Measure for Measure came to mind—some rise through sin; others fall through virtue. Neither has happened to me, that’s certain. If it had, you would have known my identity somehow or other.

You have so many people beside you, in front of you, behind you! How happy you are! I envy you because I’m not ‘you.’ Look, don’t read all this and go crazy and report me to the police! When people get big positions, they only threaten with police. You’re a big-caliber person—big in body, big in mind. I trust that you’ll view my such audacious behavior with gracious eyes.

Well, I want to know something—don’t mind me asking. All these people who follow you, doesn’t it frighten you? You’re walking, and a whole caravan is walking behind you! Imagine that! When I return home, sometimes a boy from our neighboring alley kindly follows even someone coal-black like me from a distance. Even that makes me restless with fear! And how do you remain so comfortable? My cousins, my friends—they all follow you. Why do they do this? I asked them. They couldn’t say. I mean, they themselves don’t know why they’re following you! That alone shows they’re honored Bangladeshi Facebook users! If you tried to know and understand so much while using Facebook, you’d have to stop Facebooking altogether! The only thumb rule for Facebooking in this country: where your ears are doesn’t matter; what matters is that a kite has taken your ear! Therefore, throw stones, hit the kite!

Well, do you know the answer to this? Are you thinking I’m speaking disrespectfully about you? Are you thinking something bad about me? Or some other thought? You can share it! I won’t mind. And what’s it to you if I do? Rather than living with what people think in your head, it’s better to set up a mosquito net at home and sit inside watching Jibangar serials.

Here I am writing these huge compositions for you, and you’re not giving any answers—is this right, tell me?

Surely with all this chatter you’ve forgotten what I actually want to know. All right, without losing patience, let me ask again: Why do so many people follow you? Have you done something great in your life? If someone does something great, why should people follow them? I have another question. I’ll ask it later—I mean, seeing your manner of answering those three questions, I’ll decide whether asking the fourth question would be appropriate at all! Look, I’m not bothering you. I’m just pestering you out of pure curiosity.

I live in Sylhet. You’ve probably never been to Sylhet. After Chittagong, you won’t find such wealth of nature anywhere else. You’re just reading my messages like a mute person, so in anger I’m not writing much more about Sylhet to tempt you. You’re not Sylheti, so you can never be as sincere as I am. There are two kinds of good people in the world. One: Sylhetis who live in Sylhet. Two: Sylhetis who live outside Sylhet. You know us as people who say ita-mita-kita-bita. Yet you still haven’t noticed our real beauty. How much beauty nature has poured into Sylhet—I trust you know something of this, at least. What you don’t know is the essence of Sylhet’s inhabitants. How vast our hearts are—you couldn’t even imagine. Whom we love, we love with our lives. When we give someone something, we give with our whole hearts. We keep no circuits in our minds. I don’t know of anyone who walks with more self-respect than Sylhetis. We are cheerful, simple people. This short life can be beautifully spent just with lovely Sylhet and its people!

Well, do you write poetry? Do you have books in the market? Do you read books? Or do you just keep writing? Don’t mind me saying, many who write books actually write without reading. You can tell everything from the writing. Tolerating a writer’s ignorance is very irritating. Reading books is like prayer. So if the priest chants the wrong mantras, how can there be prayer, tell me? Now I see people suddenly become writers with the book fair in mind. They write books under pressure so they can release them at the book fair. I watch and wonder in amazement—literature happens on order too! I’m not saying it never has! But in this age, no Dostoyevsky is writing, so I simply cannot trust the “fair’s here so write away” crowd. How many writers sit with their mouths open at stalls waiting to give autographs! They grab someone from the street and almost force a book with autograph into their hands, take selfies, upload pictures on Facebook with captions that make you think—oh my, the publisher just can’t keep up with supplying books! Victory to the writer! Needless to say about the media! They make programs about all the non-writers and bad writers in the world! Media’s only job now is to broadcast fake and exaggerated news. They create huge stories about things that don’t matter, while what’s truly needed gets no attention at all. This age’s main mantra: business is heaven, business is dharma, business is the supreme meditation. In business alone do all the gods find their beloved and dear ones.

Well, has any of your poetry appeared in any Bengali textbook from class one to ten?

: Why are you fooling around? Which university are you at?

: Finally, Sir,
you’ve come online!
I’ve managed to speak with you! Yesss! Remember Cast Away? How much fun can one have talking to oneself, tell me? I used to think Facebook star-types had loads of fan-following! Are you some kind of celebrity then?
I mean, part of the constellation? What will you do with my university name? Will you show up with the entire police force to arrest me? Look, I have no direct acquaintance with you,
we’ve never even met.
And by the way, going through your wall,
I discovered you came to Sylhet, and you have lots of writing about Sylhet too. Seeing all this makes me feel terribly embarrassed. Without knowing, without understanding, what wisdom I dispensed to you
about Sylhet! Sorry, how’s that? Don’t be too angry, if you feel like being angry you can be a little angry.
People who get too angry
go bald quickly. You’re a good person, I hope you’ll honor another good person’s request. Good people to good people are like cousins, isn’t that right? Everything I said, all the wisdom I gave, was all without knowing! By Socrates’ name I swear, by all your darlings I plead, please forgive me!

You sign on,
yet why don’t you write anything?
O cute poet! Why are you
silent? Are you standing before your
brother-in-law? Look, behavior is something that can make even ugly people beautiful. If God doesn’t will it, no one can give anyone anything, but what anyone can give to another is joy through good behavior. You’re such a distinguished person,
you carry yourself with such beautiful clothes and mind, and you can’t give me a tiny reply? Oh dear,
I’m not asking for your kidney! You’ve learned so much, yet you still haven’t learned to value others’ feelings? You write poetry,
and you don’t understand feelings?
What kind of poet are you? You’re such a thoughtful person, if I’d known this ugly side of your mind earlier
I wouldn’t have bothered you like this! For every person, their own dignity matters most. Same for me! If I’d understood earlier, I wouldn’t have let myself be humiliated like this on purpose!

I saw your status.
Bravo, brave real man! Doesn’t have the courage to say something to someone directly, posts a status to tell the whole world!
If you hadn’t messaged me first, how would I have even found your profile? You don’t have the ability to make me say so much, you couldn’t have managed it if I hadn’t wanted to! If you thought I was bothering you, why didn’t you block me from the start? Instead of writing such nasty things in a public post, you could have written to me directly in the inbox! Looking at you, I didn’t think you lacked the courage to say something to me directly. You’re a highly educated person,
but small-minded.
Why don’t I see any connection between education and mind? What kind of example is this of your education? If you had blocked me, I would have had nothing to say, but you gave me a chance to speak, sometimes even provoked me to speak, and then revealed your true face!

The law says,
Audi Alteram Partem, meaning, no
one should be condemned unheard, yet what did you do? You’re punishing me, go ahead! But without examining whether what I did, what you think I’ve done, is actually true—without giving me any chance to defend myself, you’ve made a unilateral decision! Is this right? You could have just blocked me in the inbox! If someone talks to someone and expects a little good behavior in return, at least a response, does that become terribly wrong? I didn’t declare my love to you, I didn’t cry and flood my heart to win yours,
I didn’t insist you buy me one and a half plates of puchka,
I didn’t ask you to compose even half a line of romantic poetry for me, I simply wrote some words in your inbox like any other ordinary person! Nothing more than that! You can’t abuse me for that,
can you? That too in a public post! Only cowards
abuse women, do you know that?

The arrival of some ugly girl in the inbox is like a disgusting cockroach suddenly flying and landing on a plate of rice!—what did you mean by this? I’m a cockroach?
I might be a cockroach,
but I’m still human!
Just because I’m a cockroach doesn’t mean I’m not human? Chowdhury Saheb,
you can’t talk to me like this! Such arrogance! God won’t tolerate it!
Remember, this day isn’t the only day,
there are other days. This day
the cockroaches will take to that day! Huh! Huh!

: Extremely extremely extremely strange!
Nothing was said to you! Stop crying!

: Huh! Only the one it’s said to
understands the torment
of hearing such awful things! I beg forgiveness, and prayers too.
In this life I’ll never again talk to any boy. I’ve learned my lesson thoroughly!
Thank you! If you hadn’t said that to me, who else would you have said it to! I understand everything!
Just because I was being silly doesn’t mean I’m very stupid!
I actually cried a lot after reading your post. I feel like a cockroach-cockroach! Yet when I see cockroaches
I………ugh! How disgusting! And listen, one more thing. If I’m a cockroach, then at the same time I messaged you, all the others who also messaged you must be cockroaches too! Among them, those whose hearts
are as fragile as mine probably also got hurt and cried. I’m saying all this, protesting, for one reason only—I’m not a cockroach! They’re not doing it because they’re more polite and restrained than me. Withdraw your words, poet saheb! If not for everyone else, at least that word doesn’t apply to me.

O you are incomparable,

O wealthy one,

What I gave you
was your own gift—

As much as you accepted
you made me indebted.

O friend,
farewell.