Short Story
... Nazneen....
(Continued from last week)
While Akram was in Chittagong, I had my first child. I named him Farhan and was glad to have a companion to fill up my days. Akram came every month to see us, particularly to spend time with his parents. It was during these months that I noticed some change in his attitude towards me. Before, when we were alone in our bedroom, he would try to touch me, and draw me closer towards him. During the pregnancy, he stopped this and we almost never made love during this period. While this change took me by surprise and worried me, I did not bring it up with him. But I could sense that something was amiss when I found out that he was talking frequently on the cell phone on the roof. As soon as I went to the roof to join him, he would hang up. I was not sure if I should ask him about these calls but soon I heard from my cousin who lived in Chittagong that he had seen "dulabhai" with another woman.
I was puzzled and sad to know about Akram's interest in this other woman, and I started to wonder if this was the first instance or he had been cheating on me all along. Akram's work days were long while he was working in Dhaka and he often went out after work with his friends. I assumed he just needed to unwind or hang out with friends as was the common practice among his friends circle. I never asked him much about his friends, or who else was there in his evening adda, or even if they went out. I knew that I could always reach him on his cell phone if I needed to, but I never called him even though sometimes I was lonely at home in the evening. As Farhan was growing up, I kept busy with him and attended to his studies but thought it would be fun to go out to the movies with Akram, just the two of us. Once when I brought it up, he did not show any interest, and it seemed from his facial expressions and body language that he considered going out for an evening with your wife and leave the parents at home was impractical.
I often talked to Amma about my feelings of emptiness and melancholia brought about by Akram's behavior and his infidelity and she, after a while, began to side with me. She offered her sympathies and tried to distract me with words such as sabar and kortobyo, and always advised me to have patience. I cannot remember on how many occasions I heard from her the traditional Bengali saw "soburey mewa foley" and "dhoeerjo dhoro", and have been amazed her unflinching faith in the old adage "innallaha ma'as saaberin". It was during these conversations that I often lost my patience with her. However, of late I also noticed that she was very cautious about offering me any advice. I am not sure if that might have been because she realized that the traditional "suffer in silence" approach was not in my best interest or because she wanted me to find the appropriate course of action. I once heard from her that many years ago, when she was unhappy in her own married life, her only brother had once told her that his doors are always open if my mother ever decides to walk out on my father. But she never did make any moves in that direction, and suffered in silence for her entire life. She confided in me that there was a very painful time when my father was posted in Rangpur. He would take out his frustrations at work or with financial problems by cutting her off or abusing her.
My mother's less than perfect conjugal life helped me in many ways to cope with my own partnership with my husband. From the stories I heard from her, I learned well about men and how some of them are wired. She told me how she faced the full brunt of my father's wrath whenever she spoke to him about Dadi, my grandmother. Once, when we were visiting my Dadi's house in Kushtia, my mother wanted to visit Shelaidah, and see Tagore's kuthi-bari. My Dadi did not like the idea and expressed her strong displeasure to my father about bohu. She apparently had told my father that my mother was a little "forward", and my father had then proceeded to abuse her verbally and physically in my Dadi's house. My mother was not sure what triggered his anger and the resulting abuse, but she said very casually to me, "may be to please his mother, he was so matri bhokto". Since then, she had tried to steer away from any acts or decisions that might displease my Dadi.
Amma was my steady friend during this period, and always my friend in times of need. After three years in Chittagong, Akram was transferred back to Dhaka, and I never heard from him or my cousin about his secret affiar. Amma offered to take care of Farhan when Akram had a chance to go to Kolkata for a few days, and I convinced him to take me along with him. I often chatted with her during the evenings when Akram was out with his friends or at official functions. Even though my brothers and sister kept her busy, she would call me almost every night. After his retirement, Abba was preoccupied with his prayers and was spending more and more time at the mosque in the neighborhood. Amma discussed with me cooking tips, her daily worries, and about the two helping hands who worked in my parents' house. She would always complain about them to me but every time I'd ask her to get rid of them she'd calmly respond: "But where are they going to go? They stay with me because I am their only asroy!" I couldn't help but laugh after I would hang up with her at my mother's ways and this love-hate relationship. She can't stand the two buas, but also can't get rid of them.
When Farhan was ten years old, Kanika, who was teaching at a school in Kalabagan, informed me one day that there was an opening for a second grade teacher in her school, and she wanted to know if I would be interested. I gathered all my courage and said yes, even before I had a chance to talk to Akram. I was not sure if he would have any objections to my working outside the house, but I had been feeling for a few years, particularly after Farhan started going to school, that I should start to work outside the house. Since I never held an outside job previously, I was not sure if I would be able to find one as I suspected that my professional skills, particularly in spoken English, had become a little rusty. Kanika called back the next day and informed me that the principal wanted to interview me right away. I got the job partly because it turned out that I still had a decent command of English and my knowledge of math and world history was pretty good thanks to the practice I had while helping my son with his school work. Akram did not voice any reservations but I assured him, just to be on the safe side, that I would be back home after work even before Farhan's school ended, and be there to attend to my in-laws during dinner time. I did not think much of that since I have always been taking care of them since my marriage.
A few months ago, one evening as I was explaining a short story by Maupassant to Farhan after he finished his school work, Amma called me to let me know that she was not feeling too well. I asked her if she had seen a doctor and she told me that the doctor had given her a prescription which she was taking. I wanted to go and see her as soon as I could get away but I did not have a car. Akram was at the Officer's Club and when I called him I found out that his cell phone was off. I could not make up my mind; I could have called a cab but did not want to leave my in-laws home since I knew that might upset Akram. When I called my brother Sajid he told me that Amma had fallen asleep after taking the medication and it would be alright for me to come in the morning. After Akram got back, I asked the driver to come early the following morning. Just as I was getting ready to go next morning, Naushin called me and gave me the news that Amma had passed away in her sleep. I held the phone in my hand for I don't know how long as I struggled to take in the news. My entire life flashed in front of my eyes as I stood there and tried to make sense of my mother's short and lonely life, my own loss and sorrow, and sort through our intertwined sad lives together.
I spent the next few hours at my parents, in an attempt to ensure that everything was running in order in my mother's absence, and to follow the clues on how she managed her affairs. I found her set of keys and opened the almirahs and the box room where Amma kept her small possessions and mementoes. The pain of losing my mother was soon overtaken by a sense of urgency as I found myself in her shoes, in the midst of her world. I started to organize her room, her clothes, and everything that I found in her room. I helped to wash her body and with every ritual as it was being readied for the janaza and burial. I don't remember I cried much as I was scurrying around asking my brothers to contact the moulvi shaheb, tasking the buas to clean the bathrooms and the living room for the mourners, and everything else that Amma would have done if she were in charge. After all the men came back that evening from the burial yard, I told Akram that I wanted to stay in this house until the dua on the fortieth day of my mother's passing. He looked surprised, but when he saw that I was not seeking his approval nor showing any sign that I wanted to discuss my decision with him, he did not argue. I called Kanika and requested her to take care of my in-laws while I was away.
DR. ABDULLAH SHIBLI LIVES AND WORKS IN BOSTON, USA
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.
Comments