Lying in that mundane looking bed with that dead white bed-sheet, I kind of felt happy. The attention I was getting! The Very person standing there had a hint of sympathetic sorrow in their sullen faces. I smiled. Although the sympathy part doesn’t sound really tempting, the tears were consecrated on my behalf.

From childhood, I had everything, money, house, friends, everything but the love of my parents. Their life circled around the mechanical timings of parties and the selfish possession of their satisfaction. My life was just as mundane as that bed, although lying there gave me an utter excitement, unlike my brooding life.

My mother looked beautiful in that white designer’s sari she wore. But yet somehow the tears in her painted eyes contravened her look. Even her mascara-stained eyelashes batted histrionically on her swollen eye-bags. A strange chuckle grasped my voice.
My father! He looked younger to me. Or maybe I had grown old. Old as the haggard I always saw begging near the train station which I passed every day while going to school. No way! She was a gloomy old lady! I was as cheerful as the baby that our neighbor had, chuckling even at the silliest things. And also, I had a similar cherubic fragrance which maddened my own nerves.

What was that fragrance, I wondered. It was so addictive that it even pulled my friends to my garage. They cried. Few even blubbered. The maddening chorus seemed like the holy church song I once heard when I visited the Notre-dame cathedral in the beautiful Paris. I prayed to god that it should never end. I prayed to god that my parents should join the chorus too so that my soul felt contented. But they were sophisticated and posh.

Suddenly my eyes got thirsty. It searched for someone, someone very special. Someone who had kissed at the first time it took birth in my beautiful Bangladeshi countenance, as the nurse had mumbled to my grandmother. My eyes were so clever. Nothing could probably hide from its prudent sight. At the never-ending alley of the garage, there sat a beautiful woman with a white designer’s saree. Everything was same about my mother except her face and eyes. The face in which her eyes were painted had turned ugly. It was cringed. She cried frantically. Her eyes were obstinate to hide its pain. But just as I said my eyes were clever and shrewd as ever.

Something suddenly happened. I could feel a connection with my mother. I don’t know what to name it, but my vague sense tells it was a kind of telepathy, a weird kind. Her heart pounded very fast, it was out of her control. Her body wouldn’t bear the tremble. Her veins were cringing just like her face. It was losing all the blood. She felt devastated.

It was time. The rituals had to be started, the Islamic rituals. I felt uneasy now. Though I tried to smile at my shining luck for getting all the love that I was devoid of in my lifetime, I couldn’t. My lips clutched hard with fear. I had to get up from that bed. I tried. I still couldn’t manage. I tried hard, harder every time but everything seemed to work against me. Even the bed-sheets grew hands. Its hands were grimy, disgusting. It clutched my body hard. I screamed.
I couldn’t even hear myself! I struggled again. I was exhausted. The holy bath had already taken place. I was ready. They were ready too. The wooden coffin was too much interested. Its tongue slithered like a snake. It was excited to take me inside. It was greedy. It wanted to have me just like those rustic boys, who would tease me whenever I walked along the white slabbed footpath. I felt devastated.

My exhausted body couldn’t bear the tumbling movement of the vehicle on that cranky road. My mind couldn’t help but think even at that state, the inability of the government in developing the infrastructure of our country.

We had reached the place. There were tombstones everywhere. The place was alive with the fresh odor of death. My pretty fragrance seemed outweighed. My sense of smell now felt ashamed. Hell, it wasn’t the odor of death but the disgusting shameful odor of the garbage placed in the roadside. How useless, I mumbled again! I heard the dead people cursing the situation.

The men there had finished digging the earth. Beads of sweat left their faces with the expectation of earning a few bucks. They struggled hard, but still a satisfaction overflowed their faces. My place in the earth had already been set.

My destiny had to lay me there. I cursed my destiny.

My mind had to stop now. I was already laid under the earth. I prayed to god loudly, “God, I am alive! I need some time. I still can smell the odor! I can see the people” The coffin cover suddenly opened. My eyes were dazzled. Everything seemed obscure except that new life beside me. It was only her and I. I was astonished. How could I give birth to a child? I wasn’t even pregnant!

 

IMG_5088Currently doing her under graduation in Economics. Quite the opposite to the career she is pursuing, She loves writing. It’s an ultimate pleasure to voice her senses and let people hear it. Maybe one day, they’ll learn and produce gems in themselves. And that way, we’ll all live in the dream we dreamed of.