The language of the unspoken eye

His name is Ramendra Kumar Das alias Rama. Age less than twenty-one. Random long hair. Although the color of the skin is pale, it has turned brown in the last few days. In the experience of a few days in a refugee camp, there was no choice but to leave the old mother there. It is, of course, a pre-determined plan. Family means Rama, newly married wife Kabari and his mother. My father was lined up by the Pakistani military and shot dead. Kabari was captured by the Pak army. He set fire to it. Women, men, wives, children, teenagers have all fled.

After these incidents, they had to leave their ancestral home from Bhangadahar in Sunamganj and stop at the foothills of Meghalaya, India. Spent the whole six days on the road, boating, walking path, fighting with death.

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My mother's address is now Mailam Camp. He has to go for training. But the wife, even after trying desperately to forget her, is repeatedly peeking into her eyes. Those two enchanted eyes. Although the husband is the ruler in the burning soul of the girls, now it seems that the opposite is happening. The place of burial is very high in the life and youth of Rama.
Winter is on. Rama woke up. Silently he leaves the room. If mother wakes up, there will be no journey, there will be obstacles. I left early in the morning to fool my mother. The clock strikes four and a half. Now is the right time: Rama by calculation. It is very difficult for the mother. I couldn't sleep for many nights. The pain and suffering had to be kept in the chest.

He was supposed to leave the hut camp at dawn when the night dawned. Instead of winter clothes, fire is the only hope for winter. Although there are only two or four, most of the refugees do not have winter shelter at home. So the helpless people try to find a way to survive the winter by burning the abandoned part of the wood collected during the day.

Rama thinks. The mind is uplifted for the grave, sometimes two eyes fill with tears. After a few days of marriage, it seemed to become more beautiful. The complexion became brighter. The twinkling eyes seem clearer, more attractive. Rama did not want to take his eyes off the red sari painted with expensive white and blue flowers. Perhaps beauty is something that cannot be grasped. I still don't want to miss the moment of seeing the bride.

The house of the gravediggers was very beautiful. There are green, mango, blackberry and jackfruit trees all around. What a smooth. The view of this village catches the eye.

As soon as he reached home, Rama saw a small narrow road. Occasionally canals filled with water hyacinth. Small Panapukur, narrow rural road.
After that the big arrangement of seeing the bride is at home. Tin canopy, wooden house, flower-leaf painted door. Enthusiastic, anxious and worried faces of women in the living room window. Meeting and entertaining the bride has been arranged here.

Upholstered chairs, water chairs and benches in the leafy room.

"The situation is not good during the day," said Salam Matbar, a 60-year-old neighbor, as he pulled up a chair. There are clouds in the sky. Hurry to do that. ’

Rama's acquaintances have arrived. This is the first episode of the wedding. This chapter of life is very important. Rama's father came to see his son's bride after wearing white pajamas and Punjabi. He also nodded, ‘Yes, the clouds have been in the sky for a few days. ’

"It will be as you say," said one of the bride's guardians politely. Everything is made. ’

Crowds of children and teenagers, young people pushed the empty space to enter the house. Then the bride was brought to the front wearing a red sari and a boubu-type outfit.

‘Name. ’

‘Hair. ’

Seeing the shape of the bride, Salam Murubbi smiled with satisfaction.

‘We have to stand, we have to stand. ’

Kobari stood up.

Salam Murubbi commented, ‘Great figure. ’

Kobari sat down.

‘Uh, look at the shape of the face. Why is the forehead so covered? '

Kabari looked at the guardians. Someone from behind shook his head in a yes manner. Kobari opened her forehead and mouth.

‘Very beautiful. However, the girl is younger. ’
‘Seventeen,’ said an elderly man wearing pants from within the guardianship. Was admitted to college. ’

Salam Matabbar said, ‘Let’s see the walk. ’

Kobari walked around the house in two rounds.

Rama had drowned in the past while waiting on the side of the road. From such a deep thought, he suddenly regained his composure at the call of someone. Rama looked around and saw a man standing in front of him. In the dim light of dawn one can guess: old man, old man. Knee-length long coat with head to prevent cold.

The stranger approached and asked, "Are you Rama?"

Yes, without pronouncing the word in his mouth, he nodded gently, correct.

‘The freedom fighters paid interest. ’

Rama stared at the look. Pale complexion, round face. The man in his seventies said with a bundle of clothes, ‘These are yours. ’

Clothing means a lungi and a half-sleeved shirt. Extreme cold, body trembling; Still, he stood on the side of a long road with mental preparation to go for training.

Rama, who had no clothes on, came back to life after getting a sheet and warm clothes. Glad. Rama did not answer the question. Did you forget to talk? Ask yourself: Who is the man? He looked at the man for a while. The man in the coat is hunched over in silence.

Standing next to the giant stone. I can't remember the name of the place, the only way to identify it is rocks and some mountain trees. It is better to come here. Thinking of something, Rama pronounced it like a soliloquy, right here.

Waiting for the partner to improve.