– So, how are you now?
– Oh, I’m sorry! What happened to you?
– Nothing happened. I just died at my 85 years of age.
– So, what are you doing here? I mean, nobody is allowed to enter here in Ramayana, except us.
– I belong to here. I am Seeta.
– No, you are not!
– But I am!
– How? Can you please elaborate? Who are you actually?
– Wife of Rama, Rama Chandra. Do you know him?
– Yeah, but did he marry again to you? I don’t get it.
– I’m his first wife.
– What? You must be kidding, are you? Wait, are you here to change the story of Ramayana? Please, don’t!
– Well, I’m here to add some story, of my life. Actually I’m not Seeta, neither my husband was Rama.
– Oh, thank God! (Sigh!)
– But my husband was a popular face in his area, everyone used to call him Rama. Because he was too strong, sturdy and lusty like Rama Chandra.
– But he often seemed to me just like the Ravan. And I felt like Seeta.
– Ravan? Were you taken by him?
– Nope. He stole all the happiness of my life.
– That’s a pity.
– You know, Seeta got Luv and Kush in her life. At least she could be happy with her two sons. But I? I simply got nothing. I was childless, throughout the house there was always the shadow of infertility. I was deprived from being a mom, as well as being a perfect wife. I was deprived of the love of my husband, happiness. My simple dreams were remain untouched.
– I’m sorry.
– It’s okay, you don’t have to be.
– What happened next?
– Thinking about the future of the family, he married again. We became three of the world. His second wife gave birth to nine children in only six years, incredibly. All of them were boys. The house became fulfilled with the lives. But there I was – a silent spectator. I lived the rest of my life at the corner of the house. I had nowhere to go, nobody to love – nothing, as never existed at all.
– What about them?
– They were happy. My husband was very happy for the rest of his life with his sons and his second wife. He was happy with his sturdy and lusty body like Rama, surrounded by his nine beloved sons. But you see, in my eyes, all of them together, I mean along with the nine heads of his nine beloved sons, my husband seemed like the perfect Ravan.
– Come on, I’m the Ravan!
– You are only one of his cruel shadows, dear.
About the Author
Born on 16 December 1991 in Manikganj, Dhaka. Now studying at the Department of Chemistry, Jahangirnagar University, Savar, Dhaka.
Poetry: ঘামগুলো সব শিশিরফোঁটা (2016)
Translated Novel: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov