Finding the Unseen

by Taj63622

  Chapter 28

  Eating and talking coming to an end, everyone soon retired to bed. The Shahiraj of Rasjshahi made a bed for himself on the living room floor using some fresh sheets and a mat, which was made of thick jute. She felt bad for causing the inconvenience of having to displace two people out of their bedroom. She felt worse yet because she did not know how long she and Dhadhi would be causing the Shahiraj of Rasjshahi this inconvenience. Admittedly, she has not given tomorrow much thought. She wished it did not come, but the night was not everlasting. Its darkness may veil the problems, but Dawn’s rising will force her to confront each problem all over again. Her struggle to sleep did not only arise from the uncertainty of tomorrow or from wearing a sari to bed. It rose from everything she has witnessed in her short trip to Bangladesh. Yes, the Shahiraj of Rajshahi rescued the orphan boy from his wrong ways, gave him a home, and an opportunity to earn a living so to keep him from going astray, but the truth is that Live Wire is only a child. No child should give up its childhood to earn an income. Yes, education does not guarantee a magical improvement to one’s circumstance, but it widens the choices that person can choose to better themselves.

  When she consoled her heart that the country has not quite reached the standard of the developed world, she recalls the landlord’s improved situation. He has become a stranger to his motherland. To improve his life, he left the country and settled permanently somewhere else. He has achieved betterment, but the country has not. His children are relishing in an English education, but poverty forced children here to accept labour. If everyone leaves the country, then who will help this country? If men settle abroad, then for whom do they build houses here? Is this the general story of Bangladesh?

  Amidst her thoughts, she hears a distant tune, coming from somewhere as to assume the instrument to be easily traceable. She sits on the bed, listening intently to the quiet, calm, almost solemn, notes. The captivating tune demanded her to investigate the source. She opens the window shutters beside her. The music did not sound as distant anymore. Intrigued, she stretches her gaze about the unlit grounds. There was no one there.

  The tune fades to a stop. For some time, she heard nothing. Her attention turned towards Dhadhi, who shifts about in her bed. Worried that Dhadhi may awake, she closes the shutters again. Despite her hectic day, she was not tired at all. She had no ipad, no computer, no books, and no phone to pass her time either.

  She hears the tune again. Overcome with curiosity, she leaves the bedroom, hoping to sneak through the windows of the living room instead, as it gave the front view of the building. Perhaps she could see the musician from there. Somehow managing to find her way through the dark, she reaches the living room. An oil lantern burned on the table beside the bedstead upon which Live Wire slept. Her gaze fell to the ground, where the Shahiraj of Rajshahi’s laid his bed.

  He was not there.

  A sudden realisation struck her. Quietly, she walks over to the main door. It was shut, but unlocked, confirming her suspicions. Thus, she quietly opens it, and from the balcony peers at the ground below. Lying along the bench, with a dimmed oil lamp resting on the ground, staring idly at the sky, the Shahiraj of Rajshahi was the musician behind the tune. The instrument was a harmonica. He was so absorbed in the black sky that he does not notice her prying at him. She makes her way down. She cannot sleep anyway, and cannot go to sleep now without learning something about the mysterious Shahiraj of Rajshahi.

  Although it was dark, he could feel someone’s shadow fall on him. Abruptly, he stops playing the harmonica, noticing the girl. ‘The tune usually puts people to sleep,’ he says as he gets up to a sitting position.

  ‘And where is your sleep?’ she asks him, taking a seat on the bench.

  ‘Still trying to find it,’ he says looking at the sky again.

  She has always seen the Shahiraj of Rajshahi dressed in a tuxedo suit. Presently, he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and a pair of tracks.

  ‘Did you awake or were you never asleep?’ he asks her through a sigh.

  ‘Always awake,’ she states, noticing a few moths flying around the oil lantern, entranced by the burning light. I’m not used to wearing a sari to bed.’

  ‘I did consider taking something from one those washing lines,’ he nods towards them, ‘but the items were taken by their rightful owners. And they should be removed. If you leave clothes to dry overnight, some scavenger or wanderer is bound to take it. Don’t worry, in the morning, you’ll find something more comfortable.’

  ‘I don’t want the morning to come,’ she confesses. ‘Sometimes it feels like I’m in a nightmare, and anytime I will wake up, and not have to worry about any of this.’

  ‘Then I wish you never wake up from that nightmare. The reality is much worse.’

  He spoke frankly, but a solemn look came across his face. As if to cover it, he plays a tune on the harmonica. She let him play undisturbed, silently considering how to address her questions.

  ‘I came to one of your shows,’ she acknowledges him. ‘You were talking about the virtues of education.’

  He smoothly ends the tune, and says, ‘You must have enjoyed it immensely to have tipped me with English currency.’

  If someone else had made that accurate presumption, then she would have been amazed.

  ‘It was thought-provoking,’ she points out. ‘You do not seem to believe in education. I understood your arguments, but it is wrong to say that education only improves one’s character. It also gives one the opportunity to get a career, to improve their station.’

  He did not want to argue with the girl. She was his guest and responsibility. She’s had a difficult day and the last thing he wants is to lecture her. ‘If any of the neighbours see us talking like this, then rumours will ablaze. We should go inside.’

  He makes a start to get up, but quickly sits down again when the girl says she does not care for the rumours. ‘Why fear what is not true?’

  ‘Because a lie is difficult to disprove. It doesn’t exist.’

  ‘There is one truth that does exist and that you hide.’

  ‘The truth that is discovered by another is not hidden. It is merely unspoken.’

  He gets to his feet and heads towards the building, hoping the girl will follow him.

  ‘Then own it,’ she demands of him, rising to her feet.

  He stops immediately.

  ‘What objection can a first-class engineering graduate have against education?’

  She was certain that she touched a nerve. Yet she did not consider her question beyond her right to ask. She was eager to learn the reasons of his resentments towards education.

  He turns around slowly, and for a long while looks at her almost lividly. She felt slightly scared, yet was in a strange confidence that he will answer her question. She regretted being so abrupt, but was certain that this was the only tactic. At length, he walks up to her, his livid brown eyes fixed on her determinedly.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ he asks her, his voice suddenly thick. “Why this first-class engineer dresses like an Englishman, wanders the streets aimlessly, sharing his sad stories of education, of life, of unemployment?'

  She said nothing.

  'Because I am human,' he states as if she was unaware of it. ‘I am hurt when I get hit.’

  His voice thickens and his eyes turn red, as if with anger or perhaps anguish.

  ‘Yes, I am an educated man,’ he confesses. ‘Even now, I secretly look through my study notes. When I see a big building, I wonder at it in amazement. I study the design, the build, and the dimensions. I wonder how many workers were on site to make it what it is. What machines did they use to put it together? When I enter a newly built shopping mall, I don’t look at the shops or the offers. My mind wanders on the architecture, the size of the beams, the supporting structures, towards everything that puts a building together! But what you learn is not always what you practice. The poor can only tilt their head at those structures. The ric
h sitting up there will always look down on us.’

  From a very young age, he showed an unusual talent in maths and science. Teachers were very impressed, and realised that state education will not do his talent justice. The government manages municipal schools very poorly. Education is below standard. These schools do not teach English because English teachers are expensive to hire. It was upon the recommendation of a teacher at his school that led his parents to continue his schooling, but in a private institution. His Baba was a labourer in a textile mill, earning enough to provide for his family, consisting of his wife and son, and his mother. His Baba was poorly educated, but the dearth of it made him value the benefits of education. He could not overlook the visible aptitude his son showed for maths and science. He could not condemn his only child to the same fate as his. As a result, his Baba worked overtime at the factory to fund his son’s private education, believing that strong education will obtain his son a high earning job, which would redeem them from their poverty. He remembers many evenings, when his mother would look eagerly through the window, waiting for his Baba to come from work.

  Suddenly, it was no longer just his education. It also held his parents’ success. The realisation had him put greater effort towards his studies. He could not disappoint them, or insult the struggles they were meeting every day to keep him at school.

  With age comes a certain understanding, and understanding grows feelings. He must have been nearing sixteen, when his gaze caught the particular attraction of Fowzia, his first love. She was one of the neighbours’ daughters. They grew up together, but a friendship that progresses into youth is no longer just a friendship. “If you don’t hurry up, then Amma will marry me to someone else.”

  She blushed and confirmed everything he believed to have misheard.

  Love was not his priority at that age. Love cannot satiate an empty stomach, and to keep a stomach full he needed to earn a decent living. But he could not compromise with her future. He told her that if a suitor of good character and fortune proposed to her then she should accept it.

  His top scoring grades had gained him admission into BUET through scholarship. Away from family and home, studies were not easy. Yet, he worked hard, made many friends, some who shared his own lack of fortune and others who were the sons and daughters of national figures of importance. For the latter, university was merely a social institution, fully funded by their wealthy parents. What astonished him even greater was that, despite their poor attendance at lectures and absence of taking notes, they somehow managed to pass their modules. However, he was not there to judge or complain. The completion of his graduation will be his first step towards improving his family’s circumstance. There was also Fowzia, who also waited eagerly for his return, doubtless declining one prospective suitor to the other so she could marry him.

  Three years later, he achieved first-class honours, scoring the second highest in his whole year. On the day of his graduation, he felt as if he won half the battle against his poverty. His parents stood beside him, and looked on proudly. When he returned home, he began submitting applications for training posts.

  The truth of reality is only visible through the pains we receive from it. No firm was willing to hire him. Sometimes the excuse was that there were no openings, other times they simply stated that he had insufficient experience. It was difficult not to feel disheartened. Once he was so depressed that he sat at the steps of his local mosque, wondering how long he can keep his parents’ hope alive. How long can he keep Fowzia under the false reassurance that he will soon find a job and be in a position to seek her parents’ permission to marry her?

  That day, finding him looking defeated, a wise old man stopped beside him and asked why he must lose faith at the footsteps of God. He related his situation to the old man, who laughed jovially at his narration. The Almighty is testing your faith. Verily with hardship, there is relief. In despair, cry, but blame none, for what is to come will be better than what has gone by.

  The old man’s words reignited his hope.

  He watched silently as his parents absorb the neighbours’ implicit comments and taunts. He listened attentively to their scathing remarks. One’s jealousy becomes apparent upon the failures of their contender. He saw the true faces of many. Thus, he considered, until he finds employment of his choice, he will take up a small job somewhere. His Baba helped him to get a worker’s position at the factory. It was at the factory that the true plight of the country’s employment became apparent. It was difficult enough to get a job that sought no qualification. How easy was it going to be to get a job that sought experience and qualification?

  His search for a position within the engineering industry was continuous. Two different firms called him for an interview. The interviewer looked very pleased with his grades and noticed his passion for furthering his career in engineering. Scarcely did he believe himself successful, that the interviewer said there was only one condition he must accept to get this training post. The interviewer tapped his shirt pocket meaningfully. He sought the settlement of bribery.

  When he asked for the value of this settlement, the interviewer gave a sum as to assume that he did not come for a job or indeed need a job. Controlling his anger, he left the interview. His Baba did everything to keep him encouraged.

  ‘Then one day, the Shahiraj of Rajshahi says gazing distantly at something, his voice slow and mellow, ‘I lost that encouragement too.’