Hajera Bibi's misfortune

 

Hajera Bibi's sense of discomfort continued to increase, along with the intensity of her cough. She was coughing and coughing, like a bird about to leave. Her long-term friendship with asthma, on top of that, left her exhausted. Sometimes, when the coughing stopped, she would start swearing.

"Where did you go to die?" Hajera Bibi called out in search of her wives.

The two daughters-in-law didn't pay any attention to that. No, they were sitting on the north bank of the former pond after lunch, chatting. Hmm, the former pond. Ever since the two daughters from the old house got married a year apart, they had heard that this courtyard in the northwest corner of the kitchen was once a pond. Groups of boys would swim in it day and night, making their eyes red, listening to the elders' abuse. If the abuse didn't work, Jaikkar would threaten her, which would somewhat calm down the naughty groups of boys. And there was a lot of fish in the pond. So many different kinds of fish! In the first year of excavation, hundreds of coral fry caught from the bill were released into the pond by Hajera Bibi's Swami alias Qawum's father alias Khwaz Ali, a prominent paan merchant in the market. More tilapia, rui, and katal fry were released. In the middle of the year, when Qawum's father cast a net in the pond during his busy business hours, it was not surprising that other innocent fish could not survive the giant courage of the coral. Oh my, seeing the tilapia mothers releasing the fry with their mouths in line, Hajera Bibi said to herself, "This time, we can eat fish to our heart's content. No one will have to share." There was a time when a fish from a large pond would be cut into four pieces. Thinking about that, both Qawum's mother and father would shed tears. Oh, God has given us today, two sons have gone abroad and their fate has changed. By showing off their power, the corals became soft and smooth. Each one had a coppery sheen. If you weighed them on a scale, they wouldn't hold a kilogram. That pond has become a fossil of the past, now it is a courtyard, the younger son's allotment is counting the days to build another mud house. It feels good in the shade of the tree in the empty space on this hot afternoon. The two daughters-in-law of a Tekona boy from the south are passing by peacefully.

'Where have you two gone, are you dead or not?' Hazera Bibi let out a loud cry while coughing.

The maidservant pricked up her ears; 'Do you think it's mother calling? It's mother calling me.' The eldest wife had just opened her head and held it in front of the king. They used to talk in the palm trees of their kingdom to catch two or four lice. The eldest wife was a little annoyed when she heard her mother-in-law calling at an untimely time. ‘Aichha, come home.’

Hajra Bibi is sweating and alone. There is a sign of annoyance on her face. She doesn’t say anything, probably out of anger. The middle wife starts fanning the air with a fan. In fact, what can mother-in-law and mother-in-law blame for not getting a break? The elder wife looks at the IPS line set up in the house. IPS for death! She says, ‘Amma, can I make you some sharbat?’ Hajra Bibi closes her eyes and gasps. She must have been coughing for a long time. This is a problem of asthma patients. She coughs and faints; later, her body loses strength. The condition is such that she doesn’t want to say anything useful even if she tries to. The elder wife wisely pulls an inhaler from the medicine box. She holds it close to her mother-in-law’s mouth. The mother-in-law slowly takes the inhaler in her hand, takes two puffs in her mouth.

Now Hajra Bibi becomes a little normal. She gargles with boiled water stored in a bottle, and wets her throat. Oh, the suffering of the poor thing, how many years have they been living in boiling water! Does she still have a voice? Hajera Bibi began to say, 'You understand, wives, we have not seen such a situation in the last thirty years. What more can I say, all this has become a test from God. People are no longer human. Even Satan will fall for each person! Shame has gone, humanity has gone, that's why this is happening.' Qayoum's father called from the next room, 'Wa bawal!'

The elder wife gives the father-in-law a paan bowl. She slowly reads the list of orders and increases the bag from the market. The Jaliakhali market is held twice a week. Sunday and Wednesday. Of course, everything is available every day. If necessary, they bring this and that from the shop at the head of the road to their house. Apart from that, various types of hawkers now come to every house. They have almost everything. Although many are used to it, this is a habit of the father-in-law, who will go to the market with a bag every day. One thing about it is that he buys whatever he wants. The later he goes, the more rotten he becomes.

The two wives are also quite annoyed by this situation. Now, the father of the family, their father-in-law, always brings him almost every day. Every day the market means cooking every day. Whether there is no wood stove, or gas, the work is not less. But even fifteen days ago, it was not so difficult. If you go to the market in one market, you eat for a week. After dinner at night, you save the rest. Even fish and meat that are months old are kept in the fridge. Is it really necessary to have a fridge? People have all kinds of fridges in every house. Some people buy them, some people get them as gifts as dowry with their sons' wives. In some houses, two or three fridges stand like giraffes in their mothers' rooms. This is how, one evening last week, when the eldest wife opened the fridge to take out a piece of meat for cooking, she was overcome by the strange smell. Is everything in the fridge ruined due to the power outage? The strange device that used to keep food fresh, without power, it became useless? Is the human body of a saint also soulless? What is expensive today, is worthless in the ravages of time; what is worthless today, tomorrow, it will not find a way to escape, oh my! The fish and meat stored in the fridge are now rotten things, as a result, they end up in a distant lake; The mother of neighbor Kamal gave it as food for the giant project of Pangash. What a pity for Hajera Bibi, ‘I was saving the fish for my eldest son, but the magic food did not work. I had to throw it all away, alas! I have two wives who eat and sleep only. If I had taken care of it earlier, would so much fish and meat have rotted? You know how hard it is to earn money, God knows how my rich people work abroad.’ Hajera Bibi cried a lot this time due to the suffering of her two expatriate sons. This increased the annoyance of her two daughters-in-law.

What a name, oh, Mokha. What a miracle of God the two wives do not understand. Every time a cyclone comes, each one is called Ajgubi. Who gives these names, eh? The wind blows with the speed of a demon, it rains like an old madman in the market and the intermittent lightning strikes frighten with the appearance of a giant. In the meantime, the weather department announced that this time the special guest is Mokha. People laugh, but the name is not found! Whatever the name, the wind strength increases with the number ten danger signal. Trees are falling on trees. Somewhere, mud houses have collapsed. The roofs of houses have been blown away. On the side of the road, even in the corner of the yard or in the cemetery, some broken branches of trees are resting on the current poles standing on the ground. Somewhere, the distant wires have been torn under the weight. The electricity office is the state's lassara, they are looking for a way out, how can they deal with the impact of load shedding. Trees are breaking, wires are torn; so let them understand now, what is load shedding!

Even after the fortnight has passed, Mokha's coffin has been buried, but Bidyut Babu has no desire to come to the upazila! Inside, there have been several human chains and protest meetings at the Upazila Electricity Office, banners filled with protest messages have been hung, and the office manager could not guarantee when Maga's electricity will be restored. One of their points is that if electricity is provided without completely clearing the trees and houses that have fallen and fallen on the power lines in the entire Upazila, there is a risk of even greater damage. If we are not given the opportunity to work patiently, it will be even more delayed. They use tactics to say, 'This protest meeting of yours is seriously disrupting our routine work.' After that, none of the protesting residents of the Upazila said anything more.

People return home empty-handed in a fit of rage. The wives and daughters-in-law bring down the rusty lamps they had put up many years ago from the loft. When the light of the charger light dimmed after a few days of power outage, the housewives notice that there is no old bottle of kerosene in the house! There is a flickering light of electricity everywhere, and on top of that, a strange thing called charger light has come into the market, which burns for three days after charging it for a day; why would the wives and daughters-in-law pile up old bottles in the corners of the house? Qayoum's father brings a can of kerosene from the neighborhood shop and gives it to the eldest wife, urging her, 'It is necessary to light the lamps in the house at Maghrib time. Come on, light the lamps with kerosene quickly, wives.'

Hajera Bibi's eldest son Abdul Qayoum returns from the city on that early evening when the lamps are burning. He had a keen interest in studies since childhood, and after completing his studies, he entered a government job. People say, even Qaum's father admitted, 'I somehow manage to survive by selling water and eating four pulses and rice a day, but it is the eldest son Qaum who has brought happiness and prosperity to the family. With his income, he sent his two younger brothers abroad, bought land and built a big house, and built his own solid house.' Qaum said that he was very busy in his office, but he had to come home without getting any phone connection. He had seen some stories about the plight on TV and mobile phones, so who knew it would be so bad! Hajera Bibi started lamenting when she saw her eldest son near her. 'Oh son, this is the Karbala Maidan, there is no electricity, no water. I was keeping the fish from a big pond for you. The end, the end of the fridge!’ In the heat, the mosquitoes, the soft light of the lamp, Qayoum does not forget to agree with his mother, getting a glimpse of Karbala. This agreement from his son tempts his mother to cry even more. The mother’s tears increase at this time, and Hajera Bibi’s old cough is added to it.

Qayoum sits down in a chair in the courtyard at night. After many years, he examines his surroundings. The green trees are sleeping in rows in the strange silence. There is not the slightest noise anywhere. The moon and countless stars are awake in the sky. Why is the sky so beautiful? Qayoum, he does not remember anyone in the area seeing it. In fact, no one in the village has ever had the opportunity to see the greenery and the sky at night like now. In the evening, the wives and the girls sit with TV serials, the students are at the study table, the adults are in the tea shop with their mobile screens. As a result, the simple and strong nature of the village was living alone, today Kawum feels it. Every now and then, the light of the boyar touches him. The mischievous wind of death reminds him of the memories of swimming in the pond with all his heart. Oh, if only he could go down to the pond today! Alas, do people still have ponds in the village now? The wide fields filled with crops that were once dead have become ghosts in the presence of new houses and buildings.

‘Qawyum, when are you coming?’ Qawyum’s father entered the house with a bottle of water. Qawyum, a clever and clever man who roams the city, understands that there is no electricity, the motor does not pump water. The water pump has left the village by then! Well, now buy some water...

‘Yes, father, I haven’t been able to get your mobile phone for a long time, so I came straight here.’

‘Elder wife, come this way,’ Hajera Bibi called from the room.

After eating breakfast, her father-in-law and father-in-law had left. The chickens had also eaten their food and gone to their pasture. Qawyum had not woken up yet. The poor thing had come from the city on a journey. He had a big job, how many risks he had to face! The housewife had started making arrangements for lunch in the kitchen. With the arrival of the eldest son, the kitchen was more hectic than usual, understandably. At this time, Amma usually does not look for the wives. There is a reason for this. Hajera Bibi cannot sleep much at night due to the combined attacks of shortness of breath and cough. In the morning, after having a light breakfast and taking medicine and an inhaler, she has a good sleep. This keeps her body in good shape.

Hajera Bibi measured the elder wife once. The wife of the people did not have to face such scrutiny from her mother-in-law again. The elder wife cannot remember whether she has made any big mistakes this week or these days. But why did Amma call!

‘Are you calling, Amma?’

‘Oh, where will the blessings come from in this house? The people of the house need to be clean, the wives need to be pure and chaste. When will Allah come? All the ponds have been destroyed, is it only bathing in the ponds, we are getting through life by drinking pond water. Later, the slap came, and that too ended with strangulation. How will water come to the house if you push the motor on the wheel? The current of the Mylapira has been the wind for days, there is no name for it! There is no water in the line, so how can it be pure and holy? We don't understand, is the hair drying in the wind, huh!' Hajera Bibi started to grumble in anger. Suddenly, the elder wife became dumbfounded by such an attack from her mother-in-law. What does Amma say? How does a mother-in-law talk like that?

As the elder wife walked towards the kitchen, she heard the mother-in-law's loud voice, 'Nothing, no shame, no faith and action. How can angels enter the house if the bride and groom have not taken their obligatory bath and are dressed, huh?'

Ilyas Babar