Episode 3
Today was my first day of class in Dhaka. Since I don't know my way around, my uncle sent me to school with a guard. I attended the classes; the teachers explained everything beautifully, and I understood. But the truth is, I absolutely hate studying. After the teacher left the room, I felt lonely sitting there by myself. I walked out and said to the guard:
"I'm not doing any more classes today. I don't know anyone here, and I feel lonely."
The guard replied, "Sorry, Ma'am. Sir told me you must finish your classes before returning, otherwise, I'll be in trouble."
"I'll explain it to him. You are like an uncle to me," I pleaded, trying to skip the rest of the day. Suddenly, I noticed a huge crowd of students nearby. I asked the guard, "Uncle, what's happening there? Why are there so many people?"
"I don't know, Ma'am."
"Don't call me 'Ma'am' anymore, okay? I'm like your daughter. Call me 'Mamoni' or just use my name."
As soon as I said that, I noticed tears welling up in his eyes. I asked, "What happened, Uncle? Why are you crying?"
"It's nothing, Mamoni."
I giggled and said, "Now that's better! That sounds much nicer. Okay, wait here a moment, I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?"
Without answering, I started heading toward the crowd. Halfway there, someone grabbed my hand. It was the girl who had been sitting next to me in the classroom.
"Why are you stopping me?" I asked.
The girl, looking panicked and fearful, said, "Where are you going? You're new here, you don't understand. Don't go there, you might get into trouble."
I asked in surprise, "Why? What's happening there that would put me in danger?"
"I'll tell you later, just come with me now," she urged.
Stubbornly, I replied, "Either tell me now, or I'm going there anyway."
I pulled my hand away and took a step forward. Suddenly, I saw a boy fighting with another student. The boy being hit looked like a senior; he was the one who had tried to talk to me this morning when I arrived. Since I was new, he wanted to introduce himself, but the school bell rang, so I told him we'd talk after class.
But the person he was fighting with was none other than Mr. Mafia—my uncle's eldest son, Afran Bhaiya. But why was he fighting like this? While I was lost in thought, the girl stopped me again.
"Fine, I'll tell you. Just listen..."
Before I could speak, she continued, "I'm Prema, your classmate. Don't go over there. See that boy getting beaten up? He's a senior. And the one hitting him mercilessly—you could call him a mafia or a gangster. He's always fighting, but no one knows why. Not even 5% of the people in Dhaka don't know him. Facing him means inviting your own destruction; no one dares to stop him. He's a bit of a madman. But you know what? Even though he's a mafia, thousands of girls crush on him at first sight. Though once they know the truth, who would want to stay? He's smart and has an innocent-looking face. Who would guess he's a mafia? And not just a normal one—he's... different."
I frowned. "That guy looks innocent to you? I knew the moment I saw him that he's a total mafia. A completely bad person."
Prema gasped, "Allah! Speak softly! If he hears you, he won't leave you in one piece."
I didn't argue further. Prema asked, "By the way, what's your name?"
"Ariya."
"Why did you enroll in the middle of the year?"
"Personal reasons. I moved to my uncle's house in the city; transferred here from my village school."
"Oh! Well, class is starting. Aren't you coming?"
"I don't feel like it. Besides, I'm going home now."
"No one likes studying, but we have to do it," Prema sighed.
I didn't say more and looked back at the field. Wait—where did everyone go?
Seeing my confusion, Prema asked, "What are you looking for?"
"The people who were fighting... where did they go?"
Prema seemed relieved. "Afran Bhaiya probably finished beating Faisal Bhaiya and sent him to the hospital by now."
Hearing that name made my heart skip a beat. "Is he your brother?"
"Oh, no! All the girls just call him 'Bhaiya' (brother), but in their hearts, they see him as a potential husband," Prema teased with a smirk.
I was shocked. "What?! People see that strange man as a husband?"
"What else? No matter how much of a mafia or goon he is, look at his style, his face, his gait, his fit body, his complexion, and that light stubble... does your heart really want to call him a gangster?"
I sighed in irritation. "Forget it, I don't want to hear more. I'm leaving."
As I walked away, Prema shouted, "Hey Ariya! We're friends from today, okay?"
I looked back once but said nothing.
🦋 ~~~~~
It was past 2:00 AM. Since it was a new house and a new place, I wasn't sleeping well. I had just managed to close my eyes when I heard the clicking sound of the gate downstairs. I rubbed my eyes, fully awake now. Hearing the sound again, I sat up, terrified. Who could it be at this hour? A thief, surely. I wondered what to do—who should I call? Everyone was asleep. I tried to figure out where the noise was coming from.
I opened my bedroom door and stepped out. Someone was pushing against the main door from the outside. Could it be the security guard? Did something happen? I thought about calling him, but then decided to check myself first.
I tiptoed to the door, reciting a small prayer, hoping it wasn't a robber. I slowly opened the door, and immediately, someone slumped onto me. Unable to bear the weight, I stumbled back a few steps.
I was bewildered. "Hey! Who are you? This is... wait..."
The person pulled away from me. When I saw his face, my breath caught in my throat. My voice felt lost, but I managed to stammer, "Y-you? Here? At this hour?"
Afran didn't respond. He stood there with his eyes closed, swaying as if he were about to collapse. Just as I thought that, he fell. I was stunned. What was wrong with him today? I knelt beside him and asked:
"Hey, Mr. Mafia, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?"
There was no answer. I decided to lock the door and just go back upstairs. Let him do what he wants. Let him sleep wherever he wants—why should I care? But then, a childhood memory flashed through my mind.
When I was 6 or 7 years old, I had slipped and fallen. I was in pain and couldn't get up. He was about 14 or 15 then. He was the one who picked me up and carried me to my room. He used to adore me. Perhaps something happened that ruined our relationship as siblings, but it wasn't always like this. My heart ached at the thought. I looked at him—his handsome face looked so vulnerable. He was wearing a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black pants; his black coat lay on the floor beside him.
I scolded myself, "What is wrong with me? Why am I looking at him like this?"
Using all my strength, I managed to drag him up to his room. For someone my size to haul a man like him upstairs was quite a feat. I still couldn't figure out what was wrong. He had been fighting at school today... could he have "consumed" something? You know, the "red water" (alcohol) rich people drink?
I've heard that it makes people lose their senses and forget where they are. Yes, that must be it.
I looked at his face and recoiled. "Ugh! What a smell! Yuck..."
"Hey, listen, move over. We're in the room now."
He didn't answer, his arm still draped heavily over my shoulder. I held him tightly so he wouldn't fall. But as I tried to pull my shoulder away to lay him down, he suddenly pulled me down with him, and we both landed on the bed.
"Ouch! That hurts! Let go of me!"
He was lying on top of me. Unable to bear his heavy weight, I cried out, "I'm in pain! You're going to turn me into mashed potatoes!"
But the man was oblivious. I struggled and finally managed to push him aside and get up.
"Oh God!" I sighed in relief. Before leaving, I took off his shoes.
As I was about to walk out, I heard him mumbling something. I couldn't understand him from the door, so I leaned closer to his face. Since he was lying on his back, the words were muffled.
"Please don't let me go... if I leave, I won't come back. Look, I'm serious, I won't return... if I go..."
He said more, but it made no sense to me. I couldn't wrap my head around it. And then...
To be continued...