Kazi Shahid Shawkat
Until her first child died into the second week of its birth, Beethi was in a trance with some half hearted struggle to accept the inevitable and a false concentration on trying to become an ideal housewife. Eighteen years is not an immature age for a girl to be married off. So what her parents had thought had logic; at least in terms of the equations they had from their experience since her mother was only fifteen when married. In fact, it was one of the family traditions that her parents were dedicated to maintaining—girls should be married off before they complete their teen age. Beethi’s father is a college teacher; very well-known as Haq sir and their family is very religious. Her upbringing too had the inception in the circle of the norms and rituals too challenging for a child to be able to happily give in, while there existed a different trend practised by the majority. However, there were examples for her to follow- her school going cousins having been accustomed to wearing veils. So before she formed any further capability or the sense of what is why, she had to have the legacy of subservience. But that didn’t mean she just took it for granted. Despite being a student of a traditional college, there was no reason for her to suffer from any inferiority complex because she was a very good student and was not the only one wearing hijab. She was also blessed in another sense that they had a family library with ample collection of books, not just the religious ones, all kinds of books. She became an avid omnivorous reader since the beginning of her intermediate academic level. Every day after school her favourite pastime was reading books. Books were her best playmates, she rambled from world to world, from philosophy to history, from fictions to intellectual articles. Books kept her busy weaving her aspirations. People knew her as a very meek and gentle girl who hardly talked until asked. But she was an astounding orator talking all the time to the multitude of crowd of her inner self—awaiting with congealing passion; serene silence.
It was Friday, 23rd of October, 1998. She was watching TV after Asar prayer. The slanting ray of the pre-winter sun was playing hide and seek through the western window-curtain. Beethi heard her mother calling, ‘Beethi ! Can you come for a sec Ma?
‘Coming Mom’, she said and she could partly anticipate what she was going to be told. In fact, from the frequent coming and going of some never-seen-before type guests to their house, which made her get the whiff of something. And she was right. Her mom showed her the photograph of the guy they had chosen for her and asked if she liked him. She said she had nothing to say over the choice made. Mrs. Haq looked pleased. Beethi was told to get ready mentally as there was going to be a ‘Bride Viewing Ceremony’ in their house. And the next Friday she was in a different house with a different identity.
Both of the families were almost identical in terms of behavioural and social characteristics. Raafi, a successful business entrepreneur, was very sensible and supportive as husband indeed. He didn’t want Beethi’s study get interrupted in any case. She had her admission for honours in a nearby college. Her friends Moli, Jui and many others got chance in Dhaka University though in higher secondary exam they got lower GPA than she did. She was not allowed to take the admission test. She started feeling a slow smoky burning inside her, like the smouldering twigs in a sunny desert. She was fighting against herself and trying her best to mentally settle down.
One day when she was in the kitchen helping her mother-in-law prepare breakfast, Molly phoned,
‘Hi Beethi, long time no see! How are you?’
‘I am fine, thanks. What about you? Have you had your residential allotment yet?’
‘Not yet. But hope to have soon. Currently, I am sharing a seat in Rokeya Hall with a senior student. Whatever, why don’t you come to Dhaka? Don’t be oblivious of us. Believe me, I miss you a lot.’ The conversation continued and before long it finished as well. What didn’t finish was her soul searching, and burning. A pall of unease and depression took over her mind. She found the reincarnation of the Molly’s voice inside her, it was almost like an echo, ‘You could have been with us if only your parents weren’t so conservative.’ No, it was not the problem with conservatism. She had all the bounties of modern life. She was even given a mobile phone when she was only fifteen; much earlier than all her friends were. She used the internet whenever she wanted. There were some restrictions of course but she couldn’t accept the idea of conferring ‘conservative’ on someone only because of being pious or following the religious commandments. ‘But why do I often happen to compare myself with others and feel this self imposed anguish, failing to concentrate on my family life when there’s nothing wrong?’ She asked but there was no answer. She, however, was trying hard to get rid of the thought of ‘what could be happened’ while trying to make up her mind for her further study. She observed Raafi and found him to be awfully great human being and a very sacrificing husband ready to do anything for her happiness. But she felt that she couldn’t love him wholeheartedly. No, she never had a crush on any guy before.
Raafi realised that something was disturbing her. He tried to know that but Beethi seemed not to be interested since she avoided it. But he understood her more than she did him. He didn’t lose heart because he believed that someday things will be all right. At times he felt bad and frustrated but it didn’t last long. He didn’t even share his feeling with anyone because he loved her. He tried to discover her liking and wanted to be modified up to that standard of her temperament—mysterious of course—though he knew it was a very tough job. He often advised her to go to her parents’ house. She went whenever she wanted. Every time her mother would ask, Beethi, do you have any problem there?’ ‘Nope, not at all. Everything is all right.’ She would say. In fact, everything was. But in her soul search she couldn’t find any solution to the sheer discomfort.
Raafi bought a car recently and he would often take her on long drive. It was thrilling every time. She appreciated his endeavour to make her happy. For the time being she could get away from the torment of her mind. But again she was given back the previous state whenever she remembered the days gone by. She felt that she was just not ready for this matrimonial bliss. May be she had wanted to spend some more years in study being only a student, not a married student. At times she felt her total being stiff and benumbed with agony of being deprived of things she never can get now. Being a student of Dhaka University could probably be one of them.
However, she was striving to manage everything quite okay; her current study, her new family. And fortunately, she completed her honours Degree with flying colours. Everyone was happy. It was then, when she heard that Jui—her friend—who had got married one year ago to the boy she loved, had a break up. She called her immediately but failed to get through. Beethi knew the boy. They were thought to be made for each other. There was no reason to make their relation fall apart at the seams because they both knew each other quite well. But why was so?
Amid all the crisis of getting along with things, Beethi was now going to have a baby too. She felt the life in her and the sensation of being a mother. And she felt that even this new sensation was not capable of overriding the one she had had but never liked. Days passed. The baby was born. It drenched both of the family in great joy and happiness. Beethi was happy too. The son took after it mother. But she still found herself being in a trance, inside an ice statue in some arctic region insulated from global warming.
But this time somehow she was feeling better. She wanted to let the happy news shared with all her friends by email. As she opened her inbox, she was surprised to see Jui’s reply to her mail sent months back. As she was reading, she was feeling so sad for Jui…
Dear Beethi,
I apologise for all the indifference already shown to you. Actually I tried to hide myself from the known people, known world. But I now realise there is nowhere to run away. I have lived my liberal life giving priority to my own desires over everything and now I am deserted, all alone.
He was mine. But now he has left me because his mom, didi are all to him. I don’t even know where in England he lives. All I have is his email address. No, I don’t want him any more. I never thought I would have to pay the price of my trust in such a way. I now realise it is a poetic justice. My parents would never forgive me like I would never forget him.
Last night his father suffered a heart attack. When I heard, I wrote to him the following. Don’t know why. I think at least you would able to understand my mental condition by reading it-
‘I hold the gumption to fight against your moral waywardness but I hold a legacy to my name which I so fiercely want to protect. You succeeded because you had the blessings of society where it’s almost impossible for a woman to survive with a stigma of being a marital leftover. You have succeeded, but you have not won. It was a joint effort by you, your mom, didi and daddyji to remove me, each one of you knowing exactly what you were doing, everything so meticulously planned. You’ll all stand indicted in the court of the supreme. All of you who comprised to destroy me, will you ever be able to look your daughter’s and granddaughters’ in the eye? Will you not be haunted by the face which you left crying at the airport on a cold winter night? WILL YOU CONTINUE TO LIVE WITH THE FICTION THAT YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH HER DESTRUCTION? How disgusting it is to see you without any contrition or reprieve!’
I once disliked the conservatism you had, but may I dare to ask you to teach me how to be such conservative like you are?
I won’t say where I am now. If I am alive, I will see you.
Allah Hafiz.
Jui
This was the first time Beethi took pity on someone. She felt sad and good simultaneously. Already the winter had started to settle in the country. Beethi looked outside. The sky was wan and sullen with sparse grey cloud all around. She heard her baby crying. She closed the laptop and ran.
The following day, with no apparent reasons, the baby stopped crying forever. It was sleeping in the morning and since the usual rising time was over, she went to wake it up and found its body lying dead; stiff and cold as ice—just similar to her feeling. The shock was astronomical. But it was what was predestined. That’s when Beethi started to feel a quite different feel. It was incredibly credible. She felt the ice breaking. And before the next sunrise she prepared herself for a new day—a new journey. Closing her eyes, all she could see now was Raafi.