Getting anything done in Bashundhara is a nightmare. Sneha grabs a fresh syringe from the pharmacy. Back home, as she melts the plastic base over a lighter, she thinks: Why do all endings have to be this ugly? Why cannot people say goodbye without handing each other grievances and bitter feelings? Has she ever, even in her imagination, wanted anything harmful for Abir? Would he believe her even if she screamed it a thousand times now? Sneha breaks down suddenly. Her whole body shakes, drenched in sweat. She sets the needle against the lighter and tries to get it going, but the entire foil catches fire. She puts it out and sits with her head in her hands for a long while, sweat pouring off her. Living itself feels like torment, but death doesn't seem easy, either. The thought exhausts her, not so much physically as in some deeper place where no rest seems possible. She closes her eyes and lets the Bluetooth speaker fill the room. Subir Sen is singing there-
Khoti Nei Aaj Kichhu Aar, Bhulechhi Joto Kichhu Taar
E Jibone Sob-e Je Haray, Jani Bhule Jabe Je Amay…