When Nature Calls...

When I'm traveling, if nature calls—and that call progresses from mild to urgent to downright desperate—in that moment I find myself thinking that if someone would kindly lend me their toilet for a little while, I would without hesitation cheerfully sign over my favorite poem to their name. Whether this would make them happy, I cannot say, but this act of renunciation would be no small matter—at least in my eyes—because giving away one's property is not particularly difficult; but giving away one's creation certainly is, because to give away a creation, one must first possess a creation, which only a handful of people in this world actually do.

So, as I was saying. Let me explain why I would sign over my own poem to that benevolent person. The peace I felt when I wrote that poem, and the peace I was desperately craving in my dream of borrowing his toilet—there's precious little difference between the two, at least considering the intensity of the circumstances. Creative agony and the torment of sacrifice both give birth to much the same kind of feeling.

I was in Sunamganj then. I was wandering around, taking in all the sights near my beloved Niladri Lake. Suddenly I felt nature's pressure. That pressure quickly leaped past the stage where it could be suppressed and began crushing me relentlessly. In nature's magnificent playground, the sacred duty of managing nature's call was entrusted to nature herself, but I had neither the courage nor the position to consent to fulfilling that duty. With no choice left, I cast aside all shame and hesitation and approached the door of a nearby house. Gaining relief was more urgent than preserving modesty, because while backup copies of shame might exist, I had no backup copies of those pants and undergarments with me. Alas, when the diaper days end, the days of sorrow begin!

Fortunately, the son of that house's owner recognized me. That generous university student became emotionally overwhelmed upon seeing me and embraced me; and under the pressure and assault of his emotion-stirred generosity, my condition became even more desperate and pitiful! Brother, you must eat with us today, you must stay at our house today, I'm such a huge fan of yours, I love you so much, your contribution to my life is immense... when such date-palm-syrupy conversation began flowing, I wanted to scream out, Listen here, chimpanzee, right now your house's toilet is more precious to me than all the physical love of my beloved! But still... I wanted to cry out loud but could not cry out!!!

Swallowing my pride, I finally blurted out, Brother, I can't take it anymore! Which way is the toilet? His boundless expression of love reached the summit of Everest precisely when, just as I was about to enter that domestic sanctuary, the boy, bubbling over with the sincere enthusiasm of his youthful spirit, said, "Brother, I have to go out right now for some urgent work. I wanted to take a selfie before you go into the toilet! Brother, I'm going to make this my Facebook profile picture! I really, truly love you so much!"

Meanwhile, a continuous wailing was playing in my mind... Mama, why did you bring me into this world of cruel, senseless people...?! And if you had to bring me, why didn't you feed me salt and kill me before I learned to use the toilet, Mamaaaa...!?

No, he didn't keep his word. Saying "just one," he took and made me take six selfies with his hand and mine. With tremendous effort, suppressing my irritation, crushed under nature's pressure, I forced my features into poses while baring my helpless gleaming teeth, balancing myself through lower muscle exercises, swallowing my distorted expressions, and hopping about while motivating myself... No choice, Golam Hossain, no choice!

I don't know how well those selfies, born under the intense consciousness of damn-this-celebrity-business and severe low pressure, fulfilled the brother's like-gathering objectives, but I understood once again with certainty that to get something, you must give something. Without a selfie, I shall not grant even a needle-point of peace! Either come to my way, or crap on your way!

I am indebted to that boy. Many people have given me love in this life, but how many have given peace?! Brother, I love you so much, I listen to all your speeches, I read all your writings, please give me such-and-such advice... such-and-such motivation... give me a chance to meet/talk about such-and-such work! Seeing this parade of selfless love, I truly start dancing with joy and singing at the top of my voice... Go on, say more, it's not bad at all!! Getting ten taka through bKash-Nagad-Rocket-plane is more useful than receiving an ocean of love. What the hell good is love if it doesn't bring peace?! Giving someone a place in your heart is easy, but giving them a place in your toilet when they need it—that's what I call true love! So pushing through all these crowds of free love from you people, I search for that brother who gave me a moment's peace. I haven't put him in any poem—such small places are created for consoling foolish lovers; I have placed him in the most secret chamber of this heart!