[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.]
Abir’s reply to Sneha’s text about the Rajshahi trip came almost two hours later: I’ll try my best. I’m under surveillance here. Hope you understand. Sneha wasn’t angry or hurt by the reply at all. In fact, just hearing that Abir would try to meet her was enough to make her happy. She had never wanted to make him feel pressured or do anything that could create trouble for him at work or with his family. So, she replied happily: No worries. Don’t take any pera. If we can’t meet, I’ll just find some random guy, listen to him sing, and come back to Dhaka. LOL! Abir replied immediately: Come on!
The first day Sneha met Abir in Rajshahi was probably one of the most beautiful days of her life, or maybe it would remain the most beautiful day of her life until the day she died. Even now, she wants to think of that day as the best day of her life. There was nothing ugly in it. It was all happiness. All peace. Almost heaven. After getting off her afternoon flight on February 13 and getting into the HiAce sent by Hotel Grand River View, which was waiting in the airport parking lot, Sneha became absorbed in watching the neat little city pass by. The driver, a polite man with a distinct local accent, asked, Is this your first time in Rajshahi, madam? Sneha could hear the regional pull in his voice, but she couldn’t quite tell whether it was Rajshahi or Chapainawabganj.
Apparently, a lot of people from Chapainawabganj live in this city. Watching the sun go down through the window, Sneha answered the driver’s question, Nah! Probably my second or third time. Definitely not my first. She had been to Rajshahi twice before with Abba. She was in Class Seven or Eight then. She couldn’t remember exactly at that moment, but she was sure it had to be around that time- nothing before or after.
Rajshahi’s airport had a pretty strange name: Shah Makhdum Airport. It was probably named after some saint. But why didn’t Sneha know anything about him? She got a little annoyed with herself. The airport of a district city was named after this man; he had to be someone important. And not knowing about an important person from a district of her own country felt like a level of stupidity she just couldn’t accept. After calling herself an idiot several times, she decided that the first thing she’d do after reaching the hotel was look up Makhdum Sahib. But first, she needed to know what makhdum actually meant.
A quick Google search gave her the answer: 'Makhdum' means a religious leader or teacher. She also found out that Shah Makhdum wasn’t even his real name; it was just what people in the region called him. His actual name was Abdul Quddus Jalaluddin. She liked the name Jalaluddin much better. He could have just gone by that. But wait, that might have caused technical issues. It would have clashed with Hazrat Shahjalal. Having two saints named Jalal in one country might have confused the followers. This was all just her speculation. Lost in her random theories, she suddenly noticed the car pulling over at a place called Kazi Hata.
The hotel didn’t look too bad from the outside. As long as everything is fine inside, she thought, scanning the building up and down. Right then, Abir texted: Reached hotel? That was his eighth text—starting from Hazrat Shahjalal Airport all the way to Shah Makhdum, checking if she boarded, if the flight was on time, if it took off, if it landed, and now, if she made it to the hotel! For no logical reason, a wave of pure happiness washed over her. When she thought about why, the answer was simple: she was finally in a city where Abir was around somewhere. Whether they met or not, or whenever that happened, they were now in the same city!
Humming Level Five’s track, “Tu…mi shamne nei, tao tumi bhasho, moner majhe lukiye ektukhani hasho…” (You aren't in front of me, yet you drift by, hiding inside my mind with a tiny smile...), she texted him back: Yes, sir! I’m in hotel. Abir instantly replied: Rest now. I have an official dinner tonight. Can't avoid. I will try to come early morning tomorrow. Still humming, “Shokal theke rater sheshe thako amar pashe… tat ta ta tarara… tarara rara rara rara rara…” (From morning to the end of the night, stay by my side..), she typed: No worries. Don't take stress, sir. But Abir kept stressing out anyway, almost every other second. Every few minutes, a text would pop up asking what she was doing, what she ate, if there was any issue, or if the hotel was fine. Later, seeing her story with a whiskey glass, he texted: Don't overdo. Save some for tomorrow. Sneha laughed out loud at that text and replied: Hahaha!
Over lunch that day, eating coral BBQ with Thai fried rice, their conversation drifted all the way from Shah Makhdum to Nizamuddin Auliya. They had so many stories- it felt like they could keep talking forever. Before going in for lunch, they had been sitting in the car in the restaurant parking lot, drinking whisky and talking. A restaurant staff member eventually came up to the car and asked if they were coming in for lunch. The interruption instantly irritated Abir. He rolled down the window and, with a little more edge than necessary, said, Hey, I’m talking to my lady! Will you please excuse us?
The guy apologized and walked back inside. Sneha just stared at him for a long time, totally captivated. Abir stared right back. A moment later, they leaned closely and pressed their lips together after what felt like ages- with that same old madness, the same electric pull, exactly like their very first day. After so long, Sneha felt like she had finally come back to life.
They talked endlessly while driving around all day. So many words left to say. Sneha spent the whole time teasing him, calling him a terrible driver. Throwing him off completely, Abir tried to drive even slower and more carefully, but Sneha kept poking him: I can drive way better than you! Who even parks a car like this? You haven't even learned how to keep the wheels straight! Abir couldn't handle the roasting. They kept pulling each other's legs like this for ages. One after another, they played their favorite tracks during the drive, mostly Abir's choices. Even picking a song brought out his usual restlessness. He’d play one track, then instantly change his mind: This one's beautiful, but not right now. And move on to another. Sneha watched that restlessness too. Quietly, closely, as if even his smallest habits were worth remembering.
In the evening, just before parking the car by the Padma, Abir suddenly said, No woman has ever sat beside my driving seat for this long before. Sneha immediately teased him, There, you just slipped that one in! Abir, completely serious about proving he wasn’t lying, said, I swear! I’m not lying. Sneha laughed. As if your wife never gets in your car? Abir sighed. Believe me, she doesn’t. She has her own car, you know? She uses her own. She doesn’t ride in this one. My daughter does sometimes. Sneha paused for a moment, then actually believed him. She even felt a little sorry for him inside. Poor guy! He can’t even take someone out for a drive like this!
They stayed by the Padma from evening until late into the night. For most of that time, they simply sat beside each other, holding hands. In that quiet, empty stretch by the river, just sitting there hand in hand somehow made the silence feel deeply enjoyable. One day Abir might not be there anymore. Maybe the memory of these hours together would make Sneha happy then. Or maybe, who knows, it would hurt like hell. Sitting beside him, that thought suddenly pulled her through the silence into another kind of loneliness- deeper, darker, more absolute.
Sneha had to head back to Dhaka the very next day. Abir had to return to the cantonment within minutes. An officer of his rank couldn't just casually stay outside the gates for this many hours or late into the night without answering to people. But during these hours with Sneha, he seemed completely unplugged from reality. They were drifting through a completely different universe, miles away from the chaos and noise of the world. A private world where absolutely nobody else had clearance to enter.
Soon, they would both have to return to their own destinations. The thought was still sitting quietly between them when Abir suddenly broke the silence and asked Sneha to play a James song. She searched Spotify but couldn’t find it, so eventually she pulled it up on YouTube. For those few moments, she had to take her hand away from him. The moment she reached for it again, Abir caught it and held it even tighter than before.
Holding hands in that isolation, they listened to the track together:
Aro kichhukhon ki robe bondhu
(Will you stay a little longer, my friend?)
Aro kichhu kotha ki hobe
(Will we talk a little more?)
Bolbe ki shudhu bhalobashi tomay
(Will you just say that I love you?)
Bolbe ki shudhu tumi je amar
(Will you just say that you are mine?)
Muchhe phele shob jorota
(Wiping away all the hesitations)
Muchhe phele shob jorotaaaa...
(Wiping away all the hesitations)
As the final line played, Sneha wanted to squeeze his hand tighter, but Abir did it first. He pulled her hand toward the left side of his chest and held it firmly there. Sneha could feel his heartbeat under her palm. Dhuk-dhuk… dhuk-dhuk… dhuk-dhuk… dhuk-dhuk… Neither of them moved their hand. It stayed against his chest until the song ended.
Around ten-thirty that night, Abir stopped the car downstairs at Sneha’s hotel and sat there with her for a while, quietly holding her hand again. Then he said, I’ll try to see you again sometime tomorrow. Can’t promise. If I can’t make it, don’t be upset. For Sneha, the fact that they had met at all felt like a miracle. She had never imagined she would get a day like this- a whole day that felt almost like a dream, from morning to night. Nothing this beautiful had ever really happened to her before. For her, that alone was already more than enough. So, she smiled and told him, Don’t take any pera either. Come if you can. If you can’t, we’ll meet again some other time.
They were both a little sad when it was time to say goodbye. Abir said several times, I don’t feel like going. I want to stay with you a little longer, but I have to go. Sneha didn’t want to let him go either. Still, she said, It’s late. You should go now. Before getting out of the car, she kissed his hand. Abir lowered the window and said, If you can, arrange some more whisky for tomorrow. Sneha laughed.
After waving goodbye, Abir drove away. Sneha stood there watching until the car disappeared completely from her sight. Back in her room, she texted him: Today was nothing short of magical. Every moment felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. Having your hand in mine made this the most beautiful day of my life. Thank you soooooooo much for filling my heart with joy and every precious second we shared. I love you more than words can say. I’ll treasure these moments forever. Drive safely and let me know when you reach. Happy Valentine’s Day, Amon.
Half an hour later, his reply came: Wow! I just forgot! Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ve reached safely, mademoiselle.