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It was a mid-Baishakhi
noon and the sun was burning overhead. Rahmat was waiting at the Malibag bus
stand for catching a Motijheel-bound bus. Buses were not scarce, but all were awfully
crowded. Rahmat had made several attempts to push through but failed to get into
any one. In the last attempt he gave space to two girls who were behind him.
The girls seemed to be students. He felt the pressure of their body on his back
and sideways and made them space to go ahead. Rahmat was enamoured having a
glance at the face of one of them, and perhaps that was the reason that he was
distracted for some moments. He thought, why should the girls struggle to get
into this crowded public transport? They must be poor like him. Scarcely had
this thought crossed his mind when the bus moved fast away, and Rahmat was
thrown off the gate. His knee was badly hurt. He had a narrow escape from a
fatal accident. His legs might have gone under the wheels, he thought.
Rahmat took a
deep breath. With the breath a lot of dust entered into his nostrils because he
was standing in the cloud of dust which is very common in Dhaka city. Amidst
all these discomforts, however, the beauty of the two girls still lingered in
his mind, and it gave him a pleasant feeling. One of the girls had a fantastic
similarity with Ruba- the girl whom Rahmat loved, whom he still loves and carries
in his heart everywhere, but he was a defeated soldier to win her. The moment Rahmat
was visualizing Ruba’s hair style, her rosy cheeks, her smiles, the next bus
approached. Ruba’s thought gave Rahmat a lion’s strength, and he succeeded in
the fight to board the bus. But inside the bus his condition was just like a fowl
packed with other fowls in an airless bamboo case.
Rahmat wanted the
bus to run faster so that he could reach Motijheel in time. But after a few
minutes the bus got stuck in a seemingly never ending jam - five minutes, ten
minutes, fifteen minutes.... With a great difficulty Rahmat came out of the bus
and began to walk along the footpath. He could not walk fast because there were
loose slabs, and dirts were scattered here and there. He could have treaded dog
screta had he not given a jump over it. From
the back he was scarcely hit by a motor cycle pushing through. He was shuddered
to see some skeleton-like human figures with sores all over and the flies being
active on them. Stinks from an open dustbin were shooting into his brain
through his nostrils.
While walking with
such a discomfort, all on a sudden Rahmat felt someone’s leg onto his feet.
“Sorry” said
Rahmat with his usual polite tone. A man came overtaking him and said,
“My leg kicks
yours but you said sorry. Nobody says like this.”
“Brother, you’re
very polite and gentle. Where do you stay?”
“In a mess at Malibag
Chowdhurypara, not far from here. ”
“Where are you
going?”
“I’ll go to
Motijheel. Can you tell me the short-cut route to reach there.”
“Stop here,
rascal! Do you know me? Have you heard my name? It’s killer Keru. Last month I completed
my century murder. Now I’ll cut off the leg that touched mine.” No sooner had he
finished his words, three young men appeared there. They seemed to have weapons
with them.
One of them
said, “Hey rascal, we’re looking for you for several months.”
Rahamat was
terribly frightened but gathered strength and said, “You’re wrong. My name is
Rahmat. Recently I had completed my Masters degree from Khulna University from
the Dept of Economics. My village home is at Jhenaidah. My father is a farmer
whose name is Sharafat Ali. I’m not the man you are looking for, sure. I’m not
guilty for anything.”
“Hey, rascal,
why didn’t you marry that girl? What did you do with her?”
“With whom?” Now
Rahmat was confused. His blood ran cold. Now Rahmat thinks, is he really the
man searched for? Has Ruba any role in this act?
Rahmat saw some men
passing by. But they did not notice what was going on here. He also saw some
rickshaws and cars at a short distance.
“Answer
correctly, or you will be cut into pieces, and don’t make any sound, you bloody
bastard!”
“I’ve simply
kissed her. She kissed me first, and it was she who caught my hand first. I simply
kissed her cheek, nothing else happened. It was she who first proposed me. It
was she for whom the break up caused. Our relationship was fine and I’m not to
be blamed for a break up.”
“Right. Ha, ha, ha!
Don’t fear. Have you any money? Don’t lie. Whatever you have, take out. Take out,
what you have. Quick, quick, If you hide, you will be sent to hell.”
By now Rahmat
felt a bit relaxed and he almost became sure that it was a snatching case.
Rahmat handed over his money bag, mobile phone and also a 500 taka note which
he kept in a secret pocket.”
“No more money?
If we find more, you will be shot, rascal!”
“Allahar Kasam (I swear upon God), I’ve
nothing more. You see, I’m an unemployed youth. I’m going to Motijheel for a job
interview?"
They returned the money bag with the ten-taka notes it had, and the
mobile set and took only the 500 taka note.
“Now, walk
straight ahead along this route. Don’t look back, left or right. And don’t
narrate this story to anyone. If you do, your eyes will be gouged out with this
peg.”
“Ok, why should
I tell this to others? Ok, ok”
“Ok, go.”
Rahmat did what
he was instructed. He was full of contempt about life. He muttered in anguish:
“Ah God! what
evil has befallen me. What a peculiar city is Dhaka! Why did I come to Dhaka
for searching a job, and what a hell is it? What sort of torturing the
criminals did upon me? There were people all around, no one came to save me in
this broad daylight. Ah God, how long, how long to carry this unemployed
existence! Nobody gives me a job. Ruba waited for me, she had no fault, but she
couldn’t come out of the clutch of her family, she yielded to her family
decision. She married a moneyed man, perhaps, I’m not sure. I don’t want to
know. I don’t want to know anything about her. She is gone for ever but why do
I feel that she belongs to me and I belong to her. What charisma did she
possess that I can’t throw her off my body and mind?”
Rahmat stood and
wanted to trace the route he was walking through. Before he asked anyone he amazingly
looked at the mega buildings, fashionable market, luxurious jeeps and
fashionable ladies. His existence seemed to be so ignoble and unwanted. But the
next moment Ruba’s memory made him feel heroic. Rahmat felt that he must
succeed in life and make Ruba realize that he could have been a better husband
for her. That day Rahmat perhaps could reach Motijheel and faced the job interview,
but he didn’t do so. He loved to dream
to be a moneyed man. Standing in the footpath he began to read some “how to”
books from the stalls- books like ‘how to be successful in life’, ‘how to
become a billionaire.’ etc. He read bits from a book titled Life of Bill Gates.
By fifty taka he bought a book he liked most.
Within a few
days Rahmat got a job in an IT farm but he soon realized that chakri (job) means slavery. Once his
boss rebuked him severely for not carrying out his order. The next day he
resigned from the job. He felt that he had better pull rickshaw than search a
job. He thought and thought and discovered his passion. It was his passion for
computer and IT though he was a student of Economics. One day he convinced his
two best friends to invest a little money for starting an IT farm. They agreed.
Initially the farm was virtual, later they took an office. Three years later
his two friends sold their share and migrated to Canada. Now Rahmat became the
sole proprietor. He is the Managing Director of Rumat IT. Except Rahmat nobody
knows the secret of his farm’s naming. It is Ruba’s ‘Ru’ and ‘Rahmat’s ‘mat’. Rahmat rode the
ladder of success. Many a time he had felt to get some update about Ruba but he
didn’t do so.
Rahmat spent quite
a big amount of money in his marriage. Within a few more years, more
fulfillment came. He was blessed with a daughter. He made a very happy family.
His wife proved the best life-partner for him.
Oneday some
employees were going to be recruited for his office in the position of computer
operators. Nearly one hundred applicants appeared for the interview. The
selection board consisted of Rahmat in the chair, Mr Kader, the office manger
and the IT expert Mr Kabir. The
interview was going on smoothly.
A lady entered
the room. Rahmat’s eyes stared at her. He could see a pathetic figure, a face
much uncared for, signs of poverty all over. He reflected a moment, “Why should
Ruba come for the job of a computer operator at this stage of her life? She was
married to a wealthy man I heard. What happened.?”
Mr Kader asked: “You’re a lady. Our office
work starts at 12 and continues till 9 pm. Will you be able to maintain this?”
“Yes, sir. If
you give me the job, I’ll be able to maintain it.”
Rahmat had not
heard this sweetest voice for so many years. He wanted to ask something but his
voice was stuck in his throat. The lady now looked at Rahmat’s face. She sprang
up and left the room without uttering any word. The office manager and the IT expert
couldn’t understand what happened to the lady. They could also notice something
unusual in their MD’s face. The lady was gone. The office peon rushed to the
room, “Sir a lady was seriously hurt falling down the stair. Perhaps she was
running down the stair.” Ruba lost her sense there, and her eyes closed for
ever.
Sitting on the
chair in his Motijheel office Rahman often reflected on his terrific day of a
Baishakhi noon when he was supposed to reach Motijheel for a job interview, and
his victory over his lost love, lost forever.
