Mr. Sanaullah once looked up at the sky and blinked his eyes. Cloudy skies. Enough to make you upset at seven in the morning. This is how the sad days begin. He did not sleep well at night. Not for a long time. After snoozing all night long, drowsiness comes on the last night. Probably fell asleep. In an ugly dream that sleep dies. The dream was black.
He was digging a grave. Something like a spade in hand. Not exactly clear. Put the body on the bed next to it. The white shroud is shining brightly. Hesitation brightness in pitch darkness. Mr. Sanaullah once went deep into the grave while digging. The spade continues with a thump.
Then he was in the grave. Darkness in the midst of darkness. Mr. Sanaullah stopped digging the grave and looked up in surprise when a lump of soil suddenly fell on his body. The body in the bed has come up. Standing next to the grave. The body wrapped in a white shroud is trying to cover the grave with the soil piled up next to it. Rain is falling on the head and body of Mr. Sanaullah. He stood with a spade in his hand. As if there is no energy left in the body to move a little. Only part of the half-dead face of the corpse can be seen through the gap of the white shroud. Mr. Sanaullah stared at the familiar face with fascination. His body became shivering. He has seen this look many times throughout his life. Seen for no reason. His own look.
Even after waking up, Mr. Sanaullah started panting. Her chest swelled rapidly with the rhythm of her breathing. Cutting the soil is quite hard work. Whether in a dream or in reality. You can't forget the horrible sight. The cold gaze is on the eyes. As soon as I close my eyes, my body is shivering. Realizing this, he went back to the grave.
He looked out the window at the sky. Clouds floating like cotton. This time it rains. In the heat life goes now, then the situation goes. The scorching heat of the last few days is no longer tolerated. I want a lot of rain this time. Jhum-ghum rain blackened the sky.
Mr. Sanaullah leaned forward and pulled out a black trunk from under the bed. An old and dirty iron figure. It is as if an ancient monster was sleeping in a coil. A thick layer of dust has accumulated on it. Mr. Sanaullah's name is written in white letters on the iron basket. That too has gone behind the dust. There is no way to understand if you do not notice.
Mr. Sanaullah carefully held the iron basket in his hand. It may look like the box is not iron; Made of glass. But the truth is that it is wrapped with iron; Nothing else. Because while holding the basket high, the malnourished iron protested loudly with a catchy sound. Although it does not do much good to the ears of the appropriate authorities.
Rows and rows of things arranged inside the trunk. Different, different colors. An umbrella, some clothes, two ruffled green notebooks, a black diary, a few broken pencils, a half-broken mirror and much more. Everything involves a taste of the past. Sick and old.
Mr. Sanaullah is sitting by the window. In his hand is a notebook and a dark diary. Dusty and dirty. As if testifying to the great age. He slowly turned the pages of the diary. Maybe looking for something. Or maybe not looking. This is how I look at the dying pages.
After a while Mr. Sanaullah laid down the diary on the bed holding an old envelope in his hand. Stick stamps on ancient envelopes. Maybe an old letter. Like other samples, the letter is quite weak. The dark brown envelope was once bright yellow. Suffering from malnutrition has lost health.
Mr. Sanaullah pulled out the letter hidden within the envelope by pressing it on the top with two fingers. Calm, gentle and caring. Despite the considerable age, the paper is sort of young. Although it's clear that it's been read over and over. a number of the paper has turned yellow and decayed.
The letter is special. There aren't any expensive pads or scents. The letter is written on one page of a protracted rolling white notebook. Handwriting isn't like pearls. Rather, it's lots in common with snails or oysters.
From the address it's understood that the letter was written to him.
"Baba Sanaullah,
Pray. I hope you're well. the nice news is that we are all well by the grace of God. You haven't been home for a protracted time. Don't even provides a letter for a protracted time. Your mother is usually restless in your thoughts. you want to not be unaware of his tendency to become restless. "
It is the mother's old habit to become restless with little thought. Dad is also late to return. Mother accustomed walk restlessly. 'Look, Babu. Someone seems to own knocked on the door. ' He accustomed run to the door one after the opposite. nobody was at the door. Mother would return more pale. As if there has been an enormous defeat.
One day after school holidays, Mr. Sanaullah didn't return. Dhundhuma played football in Opara and returned direct the afternoon. He came and saw all around. Mother is lying on the bed with half-closed eyes. and therefore the father is sitting near the top and blowing with the fan. His mother fell ill at the thought. Good luck that Dad was home. Mr. Sanaullah was counting the celebrities within the sky in his mind that day, today i've got to tie a sack on my back. Later, however, his mother saved him from his father's beating. Poor mother.
I was not going home for an extended time. Mr. Sanaullah was then busy fixing a brand new business. If you would like, you'll be able to go further. Not one letter was delivered. For this, of course, negligence is more established than busyness. i assumed i'd communicate with a touch tidy. But day by day time gets shorter. Honestly, he almost forgot about his mother. Mr. Sanaullah was ashamed in his mind. is extremely regrettable. If he had the chance, he would go and sit along with his mother now; don't move. But there's no such opportunity. My mother has been gone for an extended time. Now nobody is restless only for him. Humans are very extraterrestrial beings. Ignoring the extraordinary love. And after ages, the proverb 'The dignity of teeth can't be understood by having teeth' is foaming at the mouth.
Mr. Sanaullah stared blankly at the front. After an extended time he remembered his mother's face. The face was almost wiped away because of blurring. Shyamlabaran slender two hands. Maya Maya holding the veil on her head with one hand could be a genuine and neat smile. a wierd reasonably radiance within the eyes drenched compassion.
Darkness is freezing outside. The smell of water within the air. An aura of happiness suppressed within the mind of nature. It's as if a young lady who has just fallen smitten is trying to subdue her inner happiness. But Anand isn't obeying.
'Namuk rain. Let everything fall '.
Mr. Sanaullah checked out the letter again.
"By the grace of God, I am fine. But lately, my asthma has increased. Jamir's doctor has told me to drink tea directly. Tea is nice for cough or cough. He has also written the names of another medicines. it's not being bought by buying. don't fret. It's all a hoax. "
Dad. tired body. Asthma would cause the body to shrink more. The chest accustomed rise and fall sort of a skull. Dad appeared like a tree then. Only some pulses. It trembles within the wind.
My father was even as indifferent as his mother was. The gentleman has lived a distance all his life. it's tasking to be indifferent to infinite love; Pretty exertions. Mr. Sanaullah never understood the rationale for this empty feeling. There are some people, they also sleep in the desert amorously for the ocean.
Dad said he was lazy to not buy medicine. Although Mr. Sanaullah knows that wasn't the sole reason.
Money wasn't being sent home for an extended time. What to send. Then his own condition was quite bad. No money readily available. Survival with Sumna and her only son. Survival. Sometimes times are very ruthless. Teaches people selfishness hand-in-hand, sometimes with their own shadow. Mischievous people; The constant instability of destiny.
Mr. Sanaullah bowed his head in inner shame. The pain is quite shame. it might be nice if people had the flexibility to combine with the soil from time to time.
"There could be a connection for Tanima. they're going to come to work out Tanima next week. The boy is in government service. vast to determine or hear. one amongst the boy's uncles may be a supreme court lawyer. All is well. it might are great if you had been present.
The boy wasn't well. Was inhuman. And there was the bad habit of Nanapada. After the wedding, he started behaving terribly badly with Tanima. Maybe he would raise his hand. Tanima never said anything to anyone. There are some things, nobody will be told. Burning alone. The girl's luck was good, of course. I failed to should endure this torture for a protracted time. At the tip of two and a half years, the sister may have taken refuge in another world out of sheer pride.