“Why don’t you kill your brother instead? His life serves no purpose, anyway.” Atanu Banerjee, our Maths teacher, opined suddenly, while we were practising theorems.
His hard words left me shocked and my eyes had tears in them, all in front of my classmates. After leaving Palsunda High School in class 8th, I was admitted to Sargachhi Ramkrishna Mission (HS).
I used to stay in a mess named ‘Joha Chhatravas’, named after its owner, Samsujjoha Shaikh. Khalid Mehebub, my brother and friend, was already studying there from class 7th. We were like ‘David and Jonathan’ (biblical figures who were close friends) from our childhood.
Despite having many friends back home, Mehebub’s absence would leave me with a void. And hence, whenever he came back during vacations, I would share all those incidents and changes that had taken place during his absence and vice versa.
His exciting opinions about the school, his moody teachers, like BRC, SCS, the peaceful ‘Sargachhi Ashrama’; he would tell me all of it. He would also tell me about Palash and Ratheen uncle of the library, and about the strict Head Maharaj Gunamayananda Ji, who is very a pious personality.
Having a cake from Mehebub and landing between my palates, I started colourfully painting my future messy life, satisfying my eager nostrils by the sweet scent of Durga Puja.
The winter of 2011 passed easily in the excitement of admission. And I, with my father, Mehebub’s elder brother, Addul- Al- Mamun, went to ‘ Joha Chhatrabas’. I can vividly remember the first day in the mess, when I had gone to wash my face and I saw Khalid applying soap, and seeing me, he shook his hands with high excitement.
In the next few days, I had become the most popular guy, not only among mess buddies but also for the teachers. As a plump and innocent guy, everybody loved me a lot!
I met personalities like Anupam, Ankit, Bijan, Atikullah, Swapnil, Indrajit, and so on. There were two sections: A and B; Khalid had his classes in Section- A, and I, in section B.
The shorter students used to sit on the first benches, and we were the last benchers. I, with my favourite singer Himel and talented Shoaib, used to sit on the last bench and make memories. Ah! Those days! Those sweet scents of our ‘Ashrama’, the moral teachings of Maharaj Ji, the gossiping sessions when clouds would play hide and seek with us! I miss those days.
Now, I will try to shed some light on my life. I, Samim Mollah, an average student from Palsunda High School, have lived in restrictions since my childhood, and do so even today.
My father is backdated and doesn’t want to see me in the colours of the 21st century. His marriage was not with his dream lady, and he forcefully got married to a woman from a totally unhealthy family. He behaved carelessly even when I was in her womb. I was born unhealthy and the doctors didn’t guarantee my life and shared with them the possibility of my death.
My mother had to do everything alone. From kitchen works to showing the paddies and wheat sunlight, she would do everything on her own.
Two years after my father’s marriage, my mom was expecting again. Once, when, with a sack of rice from the roof, she was coming down and her legs slipped from the stairs. She fell from the second floor of our house to its bottom and no one came to save her. My brother Sohel, when he grew two years old, started uttering ‘Maa’ and ‘ Abbu’. And in some months, he lost his vocal power. In Katwa, my parents took him to a doctor, but after having his medicine, his situation became more critical. His condition kept getting worse. My parents took him to different places, including Vellore, but his condition worsened. And, even today, despite being of 19 years, he is like a baby of five months. This is all I think about. My parents are growing old and I don’t know what the future looks like. Someday, I hope to get a partner like my mom.
All the things I said above have been told to me by Atanu Banerjee when we were in class IX. I told him about all those written incidents and he would say words like that. I’m sure he told me all that because he knew I will face problems in my future; we all do. And, yes, he was right. Imagine living, but without the taste of lollipop of human life, without the touch of this beautiful world and worldly pleasures. But, it is good. At least he is free from all harsh things like sorrows, sufferings, unhappiness, heartbreak and miseries of daily life. Yes, free he is from those complicated situations. I, his elder brother, will be there, even if no one else will. Experience plays a vital role in adjusting a family. I am telling this because even in my present life, I never see my grandma admiring my mother and her sacrifices.
Coming from your own home to another unknown family and living with them is not easy. Why don’t they understand that despite having been through the same experience in their own time? Why don’t they treat their son’s bride as their own daughter? Despite pregnancy, why do they force their brides to do hard work?
I am handing over my daughter, means that in marriage, the family should take responsibility as if she were their own daughter, instead of treating her as a servant; a servant who will do everything and yet gain no praise but only criticism. They think ‘ eating and lodging’ is their life.
They should share their experiences with the bride as it can be beneficial to the new bride and grandchildren. Every mother-in-law should share knowledge instead of harsh criticism and uttering nonsensical rhymes about the bride’s family. And yes! This way the future generations will have a better society. Now, this man colouring the page from quite some time, always tells his mother not to wake up too early in the morning. But his mom, with a sweet smile on her face, says, “ There is pleasure in labour my son, you wouldn’t understand”.