Unwanted Child (5)

The twenty-seventh of Jaistha. Today is a day of great joy for our family, the dawn of a new experience! Just two more days until Big Sister's wedding. Everyone is frantically busy, nothing but rushing about everywhere! It feels like preparations for a small war! You might wonder how I can compare an auspicious occasion like a wedding to war! But if life itself is a battlefield of survival, then isn't marriage its preparation?

That was the only meaning of marriage I knew then! Of course, I was still too immature to understand the true meaning of marriage. But let's skip the analysis of marriage for now and get to the main part!

On the twenty-sixth of Jaistha, Big Sister's turmeric ceremony took place. We arranged the celebration on our rooftop. Little Sister, me, and our two uncles—together we decorated the roof. We adorned the bride's dais with colorful fringes of gold thread and silk, along with red, yellow, and white roses, Sister's favorite Kashmiri marigolds, champak flowers, rain lilies, and jasmine vines. Oh yes, I had written "Savera's Turmeric Evening" by stringing together water roses, purple hearts, and thorny crown flowers. We decorated the surrounding area with small dream lights and heart-shaped balloons. That night, a moon like a chitai pitha had risen in the sky, and I had started singing that famous song!
Who remembers me in this moonlit bazaar?
Who has come to stand at my door?
Who remembers me in this moonlit bazaar?
Who has come to stand at my door?
I don't know him, but he knows me
Who remembers me in this moonlit bazaar?
Who has come to stand at my door?

That day Big Sister wore a yellow sari with a red border. She had adorned her hair with a triangular garland of flowers, but in her bun she wore her beloved kamini flower. Sister had truly dressed up beautifully. She looked absolutely lovely. Suddenly, she seemed to have become a woman! Little Sister had also worn a sari, but she still looked like Little Sister to me! The entire house buzzed with people like a swarm of bees! One song after another played on the sound system, but to me it all seemed like mere noise! It was past one-thirty in the morning when Sister's turmeric ceremony finally ended! Why does everyone call it an evening ceremony anyway!

Sister's turmeric was done in a homely manner, no outsiders were invited; but for the wedding, invitation cards were sent to many people. This included friends of all three of us siblings. But Kamalika? I didn't send her an invitation card! But why would I? Is she my friend? Or my girlfriend? Or just an acquaintance? What kind of relationship do I have with her? Who is she to me? No one at all! I've heard that nameless relationships require envelope-less letters. All I have are some empty wrappers lying around. How could I send such a lifeless letter wrapped in an envelope to such a vibrant person! So I drew the curtain on these thoughts and threw myself into tomorrow's preparations.

We all worked until around three-thirty. I slept for only three hours. From seven in the morning, guests started arriving at our house. Mother had already gotten up and made tea for everyone, Father bought parathas from the shop at the mouth of the lane. Somehow gulping it down hastily, we each set out for our respective tasks. Uncle and I went to the market to buy a few more things. Behind our house there was a small empty space where we dug holes and set up temporary stoves for cooking. The cooks arrived and started preparing the meal. On the roof, we put up a canopy and arranged for the wedding party's meal. The entrance to the house was beautifully decorated. Colorful ribbons were tied there again. Little Sister prepared with her friends to playfully block the path of the arriving wedding party. Everyone seemed immensely joyful—though the whole affair remained beyond my emotional grasp. Through various customs and rituals, Big Sister's wedding was completed.
 
After Big Sister left, Little Sister and I grew closer, and Little Sister became a very good friend to me. She took great care of me, taught me to be positive. I never saw Little Sister under stress, never felt that she had any weaknesses at all! Completely transparent, yet sufficiently mysterious. I've rarely seen such a pure person. Sister wanted to shape me in her own way. After Grandmother, no one else had taken such care of me.

...I spoke a bit incorrectly—my mother has given me plenty of time and love. But to understand a mother's love, one needs divine insight! There was one thing I always used to do: as soon as I came home from outside, I would first embrace Mother from behind and receive her affection. Most of the time I found Mother in the kitchen, drenched in sweat. Still, I loved taking in Mother's scent, holding her close. Little Sister would often laugh and say, you've become such a big lump, but this habit of yours still hasn't changed! I've heard that what doesn't get fixed in nine years won't get fixed in ninety either. I'm thinking of calling you Big Lump from now on.

Little Sister's university years were almost ending, and it was my turn to get into university. I took the first step forward by being among the top ten in my HSC examinations.

Everyone was extremely happy about me! Whoever they met, they were distributing leaflets of my success together.

I started preparing for the admission test. Little Sister helped me in every way, Mother and Little Sister took turns staying awake at night so I wouldn't face any problems. Allah had blessed me with a good head, so I didn't have to struggle too much. After long preparation, the day of the admission test arrived. First I took the exam at Dhaka University. Then at Jahangirnagar University. At Dhaka University I ranked twenty-seventh, the subject was Physics. At Jahangirnagar I ranked seventh, the subject was Chemistry.

There's an interesting incident about Jahangirnagar's result. The day the result came out, I went to the campus early in the morning. I searched all the result boards but couldn't find my roll number anywhere. I was devastated—my thin legs felt heavy as iron, I couldn't move them. I sat helplessly on the steps of the Faculty of Social Sciences. One by one, all my past humiliations came to mind—from family to friends. Those wounds were bleeding, wounds that were still quite fresh. I felt such pity for my own life. In my head, like a spinning wheel, arose a sackful of sorrows from the unwanted.
 
Alas, my life!
I feel such pity for you—in this world of harsh reality, you've only learned to imagine.
Imagination is your refuge, isn't it... your vast field where you run around until evening!
No one with hibiscus-like eyes tells you... come home before evening!
In imagination you have all freedom and pure air, where you don't have to measure your breaths.
I understand everything!

Remember? They said that because of you, no one in the family could show their face outside.
Only because of you, your two siblings' futures were destroyed.
They said they were throwing all their money into water... pouring it after a donkey.
This society had grabbed you by the throat, a bit of raw flesh had come up under the fingernails that day. How long did that wound last, do you remember?
Alas, my life! You kept living, wasting away like a candle.

The people close to you said you were destroying food by sitting idle, yet you swallowed rice like a beggar.
Alas, my life, why did you choose to be born? Tell me, have you no shame?
Just a couple of years ago, the person you loved most erased you from their life—how did you forget?
Why do you want to drag those memories out of the grave again? Is there such a famine of love in you?
Alas, my life!

Your friends insulted you and threw you among the failures, because you have no valuable identity!
How many sacred souls have cursed you!
They said you're dirty, your body is dirty, your shadow is dirty.
Yet you . . .
You had only set out to prove that this is your life.
Alas, my life!
 
It felt as if all the words were writing the confession of my lifetime's achievements on an invisible screen with tears.

After a while, a loud announcement over the microphone jolted me back to attention. An announcement came from the office... the results of the first ten were posted on the Dean's office board. I didn't have the courage to entertain such a wildly audacious thought that I might be there. I don't know exactly how long I sat there like that. At some point I thought, I had studied well, I hadn't cheated, I hadn't wasted time chatting, I hadn't wandered around in love, I hadn't forgotten Allah. Why would this happen to me? I steeled my mind and stood up. I convinced myself that I am not unwanted, the blow called 'unwanted' is not meant for me. Must I be unwanted even to fate?

My thin legs already had little strength, and when mental strength also dims, on what hope can I move forward! Leaning on a friend's shoulder, I advanced to the war of being wanted. One-two-three... finally at number seven I saw my name. I had ranked seventh in the admission battle. In broad strokes, my line of fate glowed proudly!