[Disclaimer: The figures of power and the corridors of influence depicted in this narrative are born entirely of the imagination. While the shadows of the human psyche are real, the characters who inhabit them and the state they command are purely fictional.]
Sneha received Abir’s reply about her Rajshahi trip after two hours. He wrote- I'll try my best. I am under surveillance here. Hope you understand. Sneha felt no anger or hurt. Instead, she was happy that Abir said he would try to meet. She never wanted to pressure him or cause problems with his work or family. Cheerfully, she replied- No worries. Don't take pressure. If we don't meet, I'll just grab some stranger and make him sing for me! Lol! Abir answered, Come on!
The first day she met Abir in Rajshahi was probably one of the most beautiful days of Sneha's life. Or perhaps the most beautiful day she would ever have, until the day she died. Even now, she still wants to think of it that way. There was nothing ugly on that day. It was all joy, all peace, and a complete feeling of heaven. Landing from the afternoon flight on February 13, Sneha sat in the Hi-Ace sent by Hotel Grand River View and began quietly observing the neat little city as they drove. A few minutes after getting in the car, the driver asked her, Is this your first time in Rajshahi, madam?
His accent had a regional pull, though Sneha could not tell if it was Rajshahi or Chapainawabganj. She had heard that many people from Chapai lived in Rajshahi. Watching the sunset through the window, she replied, No, maybe the second or third time. I don't remember exactly. But not the first time. She had gone there twice before with Abba, maybe when she was in class seven or eight. She couldn't recall clearly now, but it had to be around that time. The airport had a strange name- Shah Makhdum Airport. Surely it was named after a saint. But why did she not know about him?
She felt annoyed at herself. If a district airport is named after someone, he is undoubtedly important! How could she not know about a significant figure of her own country? Sneha genuinely could not accept it. She called herself an idiot a few times and made a mental note: first thing at the hotel, look up information about Mr. Makhdum. But the word itself, what did it mean? She needed to know that right then. A quick Google search came back immediately: Makhdum meant religious leader or teacher. And along with it, she learned that Shah Makhdum's real name was not actually that; he had been called Makhdum in that region, but his real name was Abdul Quddus Jalaluddin.
Jalaluddin was a more beautiful name, Sneha felt. He could have been known by that. Though then again, it would have clashed with Hazrat Shah Jalal (R). Two Jalal saints in one country might cause confusion among the followers or devotees; that thought made her laugh! Those were just her assumptions. She was still wandering through those thoughts when the car pulled up somewhere called Kazihata. The hotel's exterior looked decent enough; if the inside held up, she would be fine, Sneha thought, eyeing it from top to bottom. Just then, Abir texted- Reached hotel? It was his 8th text since Hazrat Shahjalal Airport, tracking her from boarding to landing to Shah Makhdum to then.
Sneha’s heart filled with a strange happiness. She tried to think, why! Then she realized that she was in the same city where Abir was also somewhere. Whether they met or not, or whenever they met, she was now in the same city. Humming Level Five’s song, “Tumi shamne nei, tao tumi vasho… moner maajhe lukiye ektukhani haaso...” she typed back: Yes, sir! I'm in the hotel. Abir wrote back immediately: Take rest. I've an official dinner tonight. I can't avoid it. I'll try to come early morning tomorrow. Sneha hummed, "sokal theke raater sheshe thako amar pashe... tatatta ta tararaa… tararaa rara rara rara rara” and replied: “No worries! Do not stress, Sir.” But Abir kept stressing anyway, texting every little while to ask what she was doing, what she had eaten, whether everything was okay, and whether the hotel was fine. Then he saw her story- a photo of a whiskey glass and again texted: Don't overdo. Save some for tomorrow. Sneha laughed at that and typed it out, too: “Ha Ha Ha!”
February 14. Sneha hadn't gone to Rajshahi with Valentine’s Day in mind. In fact, she wouldn't have believed she would meet Abir at all, until she walked out of the hotel and found him sitting in the driver’s seat of a black C-HR in the parking lot below. Ah… how long had it been since she had last seen him? Sixty-one days! Though she didn't say it aloud, fearing Abir might feel embarrassed. Wearing a newly bright red top from Artisan, Sneha stood in front of the car. Abir looked at her the way one looks at someone after a long absence, eyes full of recognition and wonder. As she opened the door, he flashed his heavenly smile and said, “What is up?” Sneha smiled shyly, like a little girl, and simply shook her head once to the right, then to the left. She felt eleven years old. Maybe she had just turned twelve.
From 10:30 a.m. to 10:30 at night- a full day, from morning through afternoon, evening, and into the night, they drove around the city endlessly: T‑Bandh, Bagha Shahi Mosque, Rajshahi University campus, Borokuthi, then Airport Road. Place after place, they kept moving. They did not get out of the car during the day, except at lunchtime, when they stopped at a multi-cuisine restaurant called Calisto in Saheb Bazar. Over coral fish BBQ with Thai fried rice, they talked their way from Shah Makhdum all the way to Nizamuddin Auliya. The conversation had no end.
Before going in, they had sat in the parking lot for a while, drinking whiskey and talking, when a restaurant staff member came up to the car to ask if they would be dining. That interruption irritated Abir immediately. He rolled down the window and said in a slightly aggressive tone, Hey, I'm talking to my lady. Will you please excuse us? The man apologized and went back inside. Sneha looked at Abir for a long moment after that. He looked back. And then, without quite deciding to, they leaned toward each other and, after so many months, their lips met again. The same pull, the same intensity- just like the first time. In that moment, after so long, Sneha felt like she had found life inside herself again.
They talked endlessly through the drive. There were so many things to say between them. Sneha teased him all day about his driving: You drive terribly, she kept saying. Abir was so confused and would slow down, becoming even more careful. But still, she would say- I'm a better driver than you! He simply couldn't accept that. The teasing went back and forth for a long time. Between arguments, they played song after song, mostly Abir’s choices. Even with music, he had that same restlessness, playing one track and then skipping it, saying: It's nice, but I won't listen now. Sneha even watched his impatient activities with quiet fascination!
By evening, just after parking near the Padma River, Abir said out of nowhere: “No woman has ever sat beside me in my driving seat for this long before.” Sneha laughed: Oh, that is quite a line! Abir held his ground- I swear! I'm not lying. She laughed again- As if your wife didn't ride in your car? He replied, just as seriously- Believe me, she doesn'tt. She has her own car. She uses that. Only my daughter does, sometimes. There was a brief pause. Sneha actually believed him at that time, and she felt a strange tenderness for him: Ah, my poor man! He doesn't even get to drive around with someone like this. Though, remembering that memory, Sneha is laughing out loud right now!
From evening until late into the night, they stayed by the Padma. Sitting beside each other in the quiet, they held each other’s hands the entire time, saying nothing and needing nothing more. They turned silence itself into something deeply enjoyable. Someday Abir might be gone, but this memory of sitting here beside each other would bring Sneha joy. Or perhaps, she thought, tremendous pain. Even with him right there beside her, that thought pulled her inward, past the quiet of the riverbank and into a deeper, darker quiet of her own.
It was getting late. Sneha would have to leave for Dhaka the next morning. Abir, too, would have to leave soon for the cantonment. Someone in his position could not just stay out for long hours or late into the night without consequences. There were responsibilities, explanations to give. But in the time he spent with Sneha, he seemed completely detached from all of that. From the noise, the chaos, the weight of the world, they had stepped into a different reality altogether. A world where only the two of them existed. As if no one else had permission to enter.
Soon, they would have to get up and return to their separate destinations. Right then, breaking the silence, suddenly Abir asked Sneha to play a song by James. She searched Spotify but could not find it there, finally locating it on YouTube. To play it, she had to slip her hand briefly from Abir’s grasp. When she reached back, Abir held her hand tighter than before, and they listened together-
Aro kichhukhon ki robe bondhu
Aro kichhu kotha ki hobe
Bolbe ki shudhu bhalobashi tomay
Bolbe ki shudhu tumi je amar
Muchhe fele shob jorota…muchhe fele shob jorotaaa…
As the last line played, Sneha tried to hold Abir’s hand tighter. Instead, Abir pressed her hand firmly against the left side of his chest. Sneha felt his heartbeat- dhuk dhuk… dhuk dhuk… dhuk dhuk… dhuk dhuk… He did not let go, holding her hand there until the song ended. At half past ten, Abir pulled up in the hotel parking lot and sat quietly for a while, still holding her hand. Then he suddenly said, I will try to come tomorrow again, for a bit. Although I can't promise. If I can't make it, do not feel sad, please. His words nearly moved her to tears, not out of sadness, but because she was so deeply touched. With great effort, she held them back.
Seeing him in Rajshahi at all had been a miracle to Sneha. And then a day like this, morning all the way through to night, it was like something from a dream. A day this beautiful had never come to her before. Sneha smiled and said, Don't be stressed! If you can, come. If you cannot, we will meet again. No worries. Before Abir left, both of them went a little quiet. He said more than once, I don't feel like going. I want to stay a little longer with you. But I have to... It was written all over his face and in his voice that leaving her like this made him really sad. Sneha wanted to stay a little longer with him, too. But instead, she said, It's late. You should go now.
Then she kissed his hand and stepped out of the car. Abir then said, “If you can, arrange a little bit of whiskey for tomorrow, please!” Sneha laughed and stepped out. He waved and drove away. She stayed there until the car disappeared from sight. Back in her room, she texted Abir- Happy Valentine’s Day, Amon! Half an hour later, his reply came- Oops! Happy Valentine’s Day, Mademoiselle!