At eleven in the morning, I was brushing my wet hair with a towel. Mother came with a cup of tea and said,
- Have you heard the news Shuvra?
-What's up?
- Brings Mahbub home.
I could not speak for a long time. Mom paused and said,
"The doctors told me to eat whatever is good or bad."
I can't look at my mother. Even then I looked, tears welling up in my mother's eyes. I restrained myself a bit and said,
-Chh mother, why are you crying?
Mom said in a normal voice,
- No, don't cry. The tea is getting cold.
Mother can't hide her tears, she is wiping her eyes. What kind of grief mothers keep!
After so much thinking about Mahbub, do you have to cry anymore? Maybe there is. I am also crying a lot, I can't stop. I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. But can grief be washed away? As soon as I got out of the house, I saw a cloud full of sky. How dark all around!
How is my day? None of the body is good. I heard the news of Mahbub three or four days ago. Not wanting to go at all or not wanting to see once, not that. Wanted to see too. Although this is not supposed to happen. If I hate anyone in the world, I do it to Mahbub. Still wanting to see. Whose hatred is so much, what is there to see him again? But people hate him too, whom he loved a lot.
I took a rickshaw on foot. Going by the side of Arial Khan. What kind of happiness and sorrow is swaying in the sailing boat in the river! I reached Mahbub's house in Bharadupura. How many days of familiar houses, how unfamiliar it seems! The house is full of people but no one is talking. I stepped towards Mahbub's house. I can't go to the door anymore. I can't cross the square in Peru at all. But one day we lived in this house. Fever the next day ....
With the exception of six or seven months in between, nine or ten years have passed here. Those rod iron beds, crackling, whispering days.
What a memory! He sent the first letter in the book, he is not a letter as a work of art. What craftsmanship, what skillful handwriting! A matrix of sixteen boxes in a one-page letter. Written in the address of 'Goddess'. A letter can be so fascinating, I never thought.
What a bizarre thing to do! Then I read in class ten. He came to school with a donkey. Vermilion and razor in the pocket. Joynal Sir B.Sc. But who stops Mahbub? In practice, you will have to do a vertical test on the donkey's forehead. Mar ate it too. The pair contracted a fever after being beaten with a cane and could not come to school for about two weeks. Then again madness .... All kinds of madness! One afternoon in the month of Chaitra, he stood in the field and shouted,
- Shuvra loves you.
I am ready to die in shame. A few days later I asked,
-How much?
He mumbled for a while and left without saying anything. But in my head, how to make a love measuring instrument? What a crazy boy! That Mahbub is dying now. Aha: Once I feel like running away, again I feel like not staying. But he wants to hold her hand too. I left the house one night holding Krishnapaksha's hand.
I am standing by the door. Mahbub is unconscious, a young unfortunate person who is tired of shivering. Mahbub's dirty face twisted in his chest as soon as he saw it. Eat! I never wanted to see such a face. This man said one day,
-Shuvra, I can't live without you.
The cool gaze of Mahbub's wife took me to another horizon. Can such a vision be ignored? So I saw Mahbub again as if I had not seen him. I remember those days without faith. How many words to hide the truth! Sometimes he would ask again, do you understand? I would answer,
- I didn't understand most of what he said. I understood a lot of what I didn't say.
Mahbub's face was full of thoughts, his breathing was interrupted. Can't the cracks of faith be seen? But do people change so much? In return. People start to perish before they do mischief. I understood his frustration because I was not a child. But I was less sad?
I got the news of Mahbub's marriage the day I found out about four months ago that I was pregnant. The greatest good news of life was devoured by that terrible bad news. There was a lot of love for myself, for the child. I know how in my chest. Somewhere far away, he wanted to go far away that day.
Today the heart is getting heavy with deep sadness for the unborn child and Mahbub. I want to scream and cry. For the one who is leaving, think again about the one who will come ....