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.]
The daytime version of Abir transforms into a completely different person the second he hits the bar in the evening. He drinks and talks, spinning stories about everything from home to abroad. Music, poetry, religion, politics, philosophy… nothing is off-limits. Every moment feels so effortless and real. Sometimes, they have these intense, blurry nights at Sneha’s Chandrima flat that bleed straight into dawn. To Sneha, it all feels like a dream. But every now and then, a gut feeling creeps up, trying to warn her that it is all going to shatter very soon. Abir’s charm and manners completely blind Sneha; she doesn't feel the need to pay any attention to her intuition. They even get into this weird cycle of blocking and unblocking each other for a bit. Abir hits the block button, then unblocks her two days later. Sneha sends a witty, teasing text mocking the game, and things immediately reset as if nothing happened.
It takes less than a month for her gut to be proven right. After an incredible night together, they fall into a deep, peaceful sleep on a cold December night. In his sleep, Abir occasionally twitches, but the second Sneha places her hand on his back, he calms down. When they wake up that morning, Abir drops her off near her office and heads to his aunt’s place in Adabor. Even at work, the haze from the night before doesn't lift. Sneha is in such a great mood, listening to music while she works and casually texting Abir to see if he made it to his aunt's, or if he is heading to the office- just random check-ins. After such a beautiful evening, night, and morning together, Sneha has no idea that Abir has a “surprise” like this waiting for her by the afternoon. Even though she has that nagging feeling it is coming, it still hits hard. Out of nowhere, he texts to ask what she is doing and if she is busy. Sneha is still totally hungover on the high from the night before, replying with a playful, newly-in-love energy. Then, a few minutes later, Abir drops the bomb: “Sneha, I need to move on. My ex is back. I can't do this simultaneously with two girls. That's just who I am. My work, my ethics, whatever it is, it restricts me from doing it.”
She can’t even process the texts; she is in total shock. She has no idea what to even say back. After staring at the screen for a long time, Sneha finally just replies: Yeah, sure. Move on. Best of luck to both of you. Abir texts back one last time: “Please take care of yourself. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I’m sorry. It is tough, but it is required. Sayonara.” The second that last message hits, he blocks her on WhatsApp. The whole thing happens so fast that Sneha can’t even wrap her head around what went down, or why. Just the day before, they spent the entire evening and night together. It was perfect. When he was dropping her off at work this morning, she didn’t get a single hint that things would blow up by the afternoon. His ex just shows up out of nowhere? Where did she even come from suddenly? Did everything really just sort itself out in a few hours, or did he know all along? Did he intentionally keep quiet because he just wanted one last night with her? She couldn't get any work done that day; after a while, she just headed home.
For hours, Sneha paced between her room and the balcony, desperately looking for answers to a hundred questions, but nothing added up. Evening turned into night, then midnight... and her restlessness started surging. She still couldn’t believe it was real; she kept thinking that just like his block-unblock game from a few days ago, he was probably doing it again. She was sure he would unblock her in two days. One day... two days... three... four... time kept passing, but Abir didn’t unblock her. In the middle of all this, Abba’s health crashed so badly they had to rush him to Tata Medical Center. Sneha couldn’t go because she didn't have a visa at the time, so Amma went alone. Just a day after they got there, Abba’s condition got even worse. When Amma called her crying, Sneha found it almost impossible to hold herself together.
As soon as she heard about Abba, Sneha didn’t waste a second and rushed to submit her passport for an emergency visa. There was no guarantee when it would actually come through. Her head was a total mess over Abba, and on top of that, Abir pulling this weird move- blocking her and just vanishing- put her under immense pressure. She started feeling like absolute crap. One week passed, then two, and by the fifteen-day mark, her mental state was completely unmanageable. At the time, Rakin was the only person she could really talk to. After a series of sleepless nights, he tried to reason with her, urging her to just view the whole thing as a freak accident and move on. Even though he said that out loud, he was secretly terrified by how much she was deteriorating. Then, news came from Kolkata that Abba was on a ventilator in critical condition. And Sneha still didn't have her visa.
On one side, she was scared of losing Abba. On the other, the feeling of being abandoned was completely gutting her. It got to the point where she was constantly questioning her own existence. Everything in the world started feeling unbearably heavy. Just when Sneha was at her absolute breaking point, Rakin pulled up outside her office in his black Allion. He called her down and, without even checking if she was busy, drove her straight to a psychologist. Even after five straight sessions, Sneha just wasn't healing. Talking through everything was actually making it worse; she would come home and just break down every single time. Eventually, her therapist realized she needed more help and referred her to a psychiatrist.
Since Sneha already knew Dr. Faruk Hossain, the head of psychiatry at Enam Medical College Hospital, she didn't mess around and went to see him the next day. Sitting there with Faruk bhai, she found out for the first time that she was dealing with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). Before that, she had zero clue what BPD even was, and it is not like she would ever have noticed any symptoms before. She had been on her own for a long time. In the eight years before meeting Abir, she actually loved being single. People moved in and out of her life, and she didn't lose a second of sleep over it when they left. Even her six-year marriage to Bipul ended in a totally clean break; the moment she knew she was done, she just walked out. She never in her wildest dreams thought that being ghosted by Abir after only a month would hit her this hard.
It took years for Sneha to become the strong woman she was, but Abir completely trashed it in just a month. In 36 years, she had never felt this exposed. Even back when Bipul used to burn her with cigarettes just to get drug money, she never let her guard down. She fought back and tried to help him. But the day she finally cut him out of her life, even him crying and begging at her feet didn't change a thing. When Sneha said "no," she meant it. Going through a nightmare marriage at such a young age basically killed any desire she had to settle down again. Once the divorce paper was signed and Bipul was gone, she made a conscious choice to never marry again. She didn't even want to marry Abir. It didn't come up when they first met in 2023, and it definitely didn't cross her mind in the two years they were involved.
Shaking off the past, Sneha looks out at the balcony. The morning light is just starting to hit the Bashundhara I-Block courtyard, making her realize she has actually survived to see another day. The weather outside is lovely, perfectly balanced—not too hot, not too cold. She figures a cup of black coffee on the balcony wouldn't be a bad way to enjoy the morning! But after forty-eight hours without sleep, she is hitting a wall. She had planned on eating healthy last night, but the journey of sweets had totally killed her appetite, and she is feeling completely drained now. Outside it is cold and the weather is perfect, but Sneha realizes she is dripping in sweat. She knows she needs something sweet; it's probably a sugar crash.
Since she is rarely at this flat, the fridge is basically empty, but then she remembers the dates Rakin's Ammi, Helena Auntie, brought back from Umrah. She had left the packet in the fridge for some reason. But the second she tries to move toward the dining room, her head starts spinning violently. Everything goes blurry. Closing her eyes, she whispers: “La-Ilaha Illallahu Muhammadur Rasulullah.” The moment that sweet morning light comes through the balcony and hits her body, she can feel a divine strength keeping her grounded. She knows very clearly that this life isn't supposed to end this fast. There is still so much decay left in this life, slowly eating away at this empty shell of a body.
Sneha can't help but laugh as Umrao Jaan crosses her mind suddenly. She had always told Abir that was her role in his life. She suggested the movie to him over and over, but he wasn't having it; it was probably too much of a reality check for him. She figures that once he actually "got" the comparison, he stayed far away from it. Cracking up at the memory, she starts singing:
Is anjuman mein aapko ana hai bar bar
Dewar o dar ko gaur se pehchan lijiye
Dil cheez kya hai aap meri jaan lijiye…
Sneha remembers writing a poem called Umrao Jaan around September last year. It was definitely for Abir, no doubt about it. Even though she never kept her own poems memorized, she tries to recall that one. To be honest, she didn't really have anyone's poems memorized. Maybe a few random lines from Sylvia, Poe, Neruda, or Jibanananda. Oh wait, she probably always has Jay Goswami's Snan and a few lines from Malatibala Balika Bidyalay memorized. Oh, of course! How could she forget the lines from Malatibala Balika Bidyalay! Instantly, she recites:
Benimadhab, Benimadhab, etodiner pore
sotti bolo, se shob kotha ekhono mone pore?
se shob kotha bolechho tumi tomer premikake?
ami kebol ekti din tomer pashe take
dekhechhilam alo'r niche; opurbo se alo!
shikar kori, dujonkei maniyechhilo bhalo
juriye dilo chokh amar, puriye dilo chokh
barite eshe bolechhilam- oder bhalo hok…
Ha Ha Ha! Sneha bursts out laughing again, her voice echoing through the empty flat. Right now, she makes remembering that Umrao Jaan poem her absolute survival task for the morning. She feels the need for a solid hour’s break from the "foil paper craftsmanship." She neatly sets aside her half-finished sweet packet, the rolled-up 100-taka note, the 5-taka coin, the syringe-tip lighter, and the backup lighter too. Then, with Dil Cheez Kya Hai playing on Spotify, she heads straight to the bathroom. As Asha Bhosle’s voice loops that seductive line- “Is Anjuman Mein Aapko... Ana Hai Bar Bar...”- over and over, Sneha keeps splashing water on her face. The repetition works; that poem finally surfaces in her mind. She grabs a black coffee from the kitchen, sits down on the balcony floor, and closes her eyes to read the verses:
Compared to 'You never loved me,'
Not getting you
Feels less painful.
Which pain to look at,
Which pain can be ignored-
The world feels illogical in these thoughts.
Compared to your half-truths, half-lies,
'You never loved me at all'
Feels less painful.
That's good; on some painful night,
At least, I won't have to write like Neruda-
'I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.'
Instead, I could write-
'He had all of me,
While I only had him…sometimes.'
Finishing the poem, Sneha gives herself a sarcastic smile. As she sips her black coffee, her mind drifts back to December 2023- specifically those 26 days between December 13th and January 7th. Abir had to come back to her, but not because he wanted to; it was more of an obligation to clear his name and ask for forgiveness. She still remembers the shock of finding his LinkedIn profile at that time and realizing he had been hiding his real identity the whole time. It left her feeling like total trash; she felt like a used tissue. She can't wrap her head around the fact that his "state force" status was his safety net for abandoning her. When she confronts him about the secret identity on LinkedIn, he blocks her immediately. But eleven days later, on the evening of the twelfth parliamentary election, a random number texted her: “Hallo!”