The Journey

Rezaur Rahman
(Translated by Munjulika Rahman)

The movement of a shadow on top of the files on my table had made me look up. I was annoyed. I had just started at this job and I hadn't yet figured out the ins and outs of it from the previous official. Since I was new at this, it took time and concentration to understand a case and give proper instructions on how to proceed. Dealing clerks like me have quite a lot of responsibility because the progress of a file depends on how clerks present them. So I think my irritation in this situation was justified since I was not able to concentrate at all. Every minute or two, somebody came to me, sometimes in relation to work, and sometimes with irrelevant issues - you know, just to chat about an imaginary problem that might arise in the future. On top of that, I can't even express my irritation. After all, I was here to deal with the public.

I was a little startled when I looked up. As I was telling the gentleman to sit down, I saw that someone had moved the chair that was supposed to be in front of my table. I called out to our office peon, “Nuru Miah, bring a chair!”

The gentleman told me not to bother with it, and handed me a piece of paper that had a file number written on it. “I can't stay for long. Will you please look into my property transfer files?” he said.

“But that will take some time. The petition was filed three years ago…I have to search for this…”

The gentleman was wearing a crisp, off-white safari suit, a pair of maroon Albert shoes with heels, and roll-gold sunglasses. He was holding a 555-cigarette packet and a golden metallic lighter, and surrounding him was the aroma of an expensive French cologne.

This man was probably the most glamorous person I've ever seen. My instant reaction was to stand up like an automaton. “Where is that Nuru? He didn't even say where he was going…”

I dragged the chair with the single armrest from the table next to mine and gestured for him to sit.

“Kindly do this favor for me,” he said. “Please find my file by tomorrow. I have to leave now since I have a meeting at ten fifteen at Chamber Mansion. I'll come tomorrow, okay?”

Before turning around, the gentleman forced a hundred-taka note into my hand and left without looking back. The whole thing was quite unexpected. I could feel my heartbeat increasing. I quickly hid the hand clutching the money under the table and looked around like a thief to see if anyone was aware of what had passed between me and the gentleman. There were clusters of people around the other tables in the room, searching for and discussing files. The peons Nuru and Abdul were busy keeping up with orders for tea and paan. I was relieved that nobody seemed to be aware of what had happened.

I felt the crisp hundred-taka note with both hands now. I folded it a few times and put it into the side pocket of my pants. Then it occurred to me that the side pocket was not that safe, so I put it into the pocket on the front of my shirt.

The important file that I was working on was left unattended. I began to look for the gentleman's file among the dusty piles that were stacked on the tables in the room, but I couldn't find it. Sensing my situation Nuru came and said, “Sir, you won't find this file. I will come and help you after I get head sir's tea.”

I was a little relieved. I went back to my table and tried to concentrate on the file in front of me, but in vain. I was acutely aware of the presence of the hundred-taka note in my shirt pocket, and I kept imagining it flying out into the air. I began to calculate in my head. With this money I could buy ten kilograms of rice, maybe not of the best quality, but of moderate quality, and that could last at least eight, nine days. The next moment, I consciously made an effort to move away from mundane issues such as buying rice, which seemed like one of the most ancient needs of mankind. When I began to think about things besides the daily worries of rent and groceries, I remembered a rather simple wish of my fourth daughter Dilruba, who was five years old.

The previous Friday Dilruba had wanted to go to the bazaar with me and I couldn't deter her from her decision. At the bazaar it had been quite a job to manage her, what with the crowd and all the groceries I had to carry. On top of that, Dilruba wanted to buy everything she saw, from fruits to different types of mishti. I didn't have much extra money so I avoided getting those for her, but when we came in front of a watermelon stall, she put her foot down. She wanted to have watermelon, no matter what. After the groceries I had had to buy, I couldn't afford an entire watermelon, so I bought her a slice.

The delight and satisfaction with which Dilruba ate the watermelon is something I'll never forget. She kept the black seeds of the watermelon in the pocket of her frock and when she got home, she showed them to her sisters. They were disappointed at not being able to have watermelon too, and I was saddened. That day I felt inadequate as a father. My daughters' wishes were not outrageous. They weren't asking for expensive, remote-controlled toys, but only for their share of seasonal fruits.

I carefully stroked my shirt pocket where I had kept the note. It was just a piece of paper, a little addition to my monthly income, but it seemed to have a lot of power. It could get me a good amount of rice or at least seven or eight watermelons. That day I had bought the slice of watermelon for Dilruba for only eight annas, but even then I had to think many times. But today how easily I could buy a whole watermelon!

Nuru was passing by with a file in one hand and an aluminum tea pot in the other, and he bent slightly towards me to whisper, “SDO saheb wants to see you. Also, I'll get you that file for only ten takas, sir…”

I felt a little uncomfortable at what Nuru had just said. But then I thought, what if ten takas goes from that hundred takas? I'll still have ninety takas left. And if I am to stay in this line of work, I'll need the help of these people. I touched my shirt pocket again and looked at my watch to see how much time was left till two o'clock, when I'd be able to leave for home. I had almost decided that I was going to buy a big watermelon and take a rickshaw home all by myself, instead of sharing the rickshaw.

While thinking all this, as I looked in the direction of head clerk Somiruddin's table, our eyes met. He was leisurely chewing paan and occasionally using into the spittoon. When he saw me, he pushed his glasses up on his nose, got up from his table and started walking towards me. I immediately averted my eyes and started moving files around, so as not to appear idle. By then he had reached my table. “Helal Miah you can leave, since there isn't much for you to do today,” he said.

“Sir, there's still an hour to go before it’s two…” I said.

“It's okay, as long as I know what's happening in this office. My words are the last words here. You can leave today, but when I'll need you to stay after normal office hours, you will have to do that. This is how it works in this office,” he said and turned to leave.

After a few steps he came back. “And one more thing. That note in your pocket - you won't need to divide that with me this time. I don't want shares from the first take , but after this, it's always fifty-fifty.”

As I was leaving the office I tried to control the agitation I felt. I was surprised, too…I couldn't figure out how Somiruddin had gotten to know about the hundred-taka note. I thought back to the first days of my job here at the Dhaka branch of the Housing and Settlement Office. I think it was the fourth day that I caught Somiruddin looking at me intently from the middle of our long room. His nose is spread out, like the noses of professional boxers, so his glasses always rest on his nostrils. When Somiruddin looked at someone his eyes are outside of his glasses, just as now. He was looking at me with such intensity that I lowered my gaze and stared at the furniture in front of me. The table was made of a light-colored wood from jackfruit trees and the chair was of a darker shade, probably of sheel-koruy wood.

“To you this table seems to be made of wood,” Somiruddin said in a saccharine voice, a slight smile on his lips. “To me it's made of gold. One has to know how to care of precious things like these. And one more thing, Helal. I’m already calling you by your first name, because you are the age of my son. However, as you'll notice, I call many people in this office by their first names. I have been in this position for almost twenty-six years now, and no one has been able to transfer me. Some have tried, but instead they themselves have been transferred.”

While I was thinking all this, the rickshaw had reached the lane of our house. Vehicles can't go all the way in, so I put the watermelon on my shoulder and began to walk carefully towards my house. The watermelon was yellow and green, and as big as an ostrich's egg. I felt as if I was at Zia International Airport, returning home from abroad, that after a long separation, I would be reunited with my family, who were waiting on the other side of the glass at customs.

My daughter Yasmin was playing with some neighborhood children in front of the house. When she noticed the watermelon she began to jump about, and entering the gate, she shouted to her sisters, “Afroza, Dilruba, come and see! Amma, look! Baba…a whole watermelon!”

I put the watermelon down on the verandah and it seemed as if my family couldn't believe their eyes. Dilruba's mother, who came out from inside wiping her face with her saril, stopped short when she saw the watermelon. She hesitatingly said, “My…how much was it? It's almost the end of the month…”

I tried to lighten the mood. “It's just a seasonal fruit. We all want to have it from time to time, no?”

Dilruba's mother quickly went and got my lungi and towel, and scolded Yasmin, “Why are you just standing here. Go get the fan. Your father is sweating, can't you see? Such a heavy load…in the sun…”

Dilruba and Afroza couldn't wait. “Baba, when will we have this?”

I turned to their mother. “Why don't you cut it for them? It's so hot today, they'll enjoy it. It's quite sweet…I made the seller cut me a piece. And for that price, why won't it be good? It was fifteen takas…”

Dilruba's mother was startled. “How much? Fifteen takas?”

At that moment I felt as if, for the first time, I had been able to fulfill my duties as a father and husband. Everybody around me was content, and was trying to show their happiness by tending to me. When I was resting in the afternoon, Yasmin, who was supposed to be napping, came and sat down beside me. When Dilruba saw her mother fanning me, she said she wanted to massage my legs.

“Sure you can massage them…they have been hurting lately. But don't you have to go play outside?” I asked.

“I won't play today,” she said. “I want to lie down with you.”

The comfort around me put me into a reverie and I began to daydream. I saw the face of the gentleman in the off-white suit. He held out the hundred-taka note and I thought, I need that money, I am needy and my children are hungry. I grabbed the note from the man's hand and began to run. But I couldn't go far because my leg was tied by an invisible rope to Somiruddin's table. He was indifferent to my concerns and was chewing paan and spitting into the spittoon. I was running about in all directions, trying to get back to my family. But I noticed that the gentleman in the safari suit was holding onto the key to happiness for me and my family. When I tried to take the silver key from him, I caught on the rope and fell flat on my face. Through the dust and grime, I saw Somiruddin's sly smile which seemed like a light in the darkness. He was saying, “I am giving you this table. It's not wooden, but made of gold. You can sit here and collect your fortune, but remember the fifty-fifty rule. Otherwise this table is only wooden.”

Over the next few months I came to understand the underlying meaning of Somiruddin's gestures and suggestions. The exclusive clients, men in suits or expensive kurtas, began to visit me regularly at my table.

“Helal saheb, I just talked to the head clerk. File number…”

I had already learned how to manipulate these situations. “Yes, I know about this case. It's quite complicated.”

“I am here because it's complicated. Keep this packet. I'll give you the rest after the job is done…”

“Only this much for such a complicated case? The file will have to go to higher officials. It is not only limited to me…and to satisfy the big bosses…this amount won't go far with them.”

“Okay, here's some more. But the job needs to be completed quickly.”

“Inshallah! Come back in two weeks.”

I had a good partnership with the head clerk, and jointly we dealt with the controversial cases involving plots in the expensive neighborhoods of Dhaka city. Even though it was a lot of work since there were many laws that needed to be taken into consideration, the income from these cases made up for it. After sharing with everybody, I made more than a thousand per case. Sometimes I even managed five to seven thousand in special cases.

Within a year we shifted from our two-room, tin house to a brick house in Jhigatola with a three-thousand-taka rent. I also bought a piece of land measuring seven kathas in Senpara, for which I couldn't pay the whole amount at once, but borrowed a little from Somiruddin. Hopefully I'd be able to repay him soon.

My two elder daughters are growing up and day by day their demands are increasing. They study at a good school now, and travel by rickshaw often. They need many shalwar-kameezes with matching shoes and sandals. Our house now has a fridge, color television and sofa set. But with each passing day, I have less and less time to enjoy these luxuries. After office hours I work with Somiruddin saheb on the secret cases that involve huge amounts of money, cases that cannot be discussed when there are people around during the daytime.

Most days I return home after evening, some times even at night. In the beginning Dilruba's mother used to prepare a tiffin box for me that would have paratha and omelettes. But these days, she doesn't bother. “You can eat something from outside,” she says. At home I don't get to see either my daughters or my wife. Yasmin, the eldest daughter, is fast friends with the neighbor's wife, who is close to her age, even though the husband, who is a contractor by profession, is much older. My daughters are always over at their house watching movies on their new VCR.

Dilruba's mother also spends most of her time gossiping in different houses in the neighborhood: some person's wife is having an affair with some bachelor, this teenager has gotten an abortion is some secret clinic, etc., etc. When I come home, these are all that she talks to me about, and I feel quite depressed. I wish she would show some concern, ask me how my day was and why I am late, tell me that I don't need to work so hard. One day I told her, “What's the use of all this gossiping? We should think about how to organize ourselves instead of talking about people behind their backs. Our daughters are getting older, and it won't be long before they'll get married. If you are out of the house all day…”

Immediately she retorted, “Your job ends at ten at night. What will we do at home all day?” I didn't say anything else to her.

The only time I see my daughters is at the dining table, where they are constantly talking about Indian film stars and latest movies. I try to participate in their conversations by asking them questions. “Okay, so tell me who this Amitabh is…”

“What! You don't know Amitabh?” Yasmin and Afroza look at each other and start laughing loudly.

“I don't have time to see these movies, do I?” I tell them and try to appear normal, but somewhere inside me I feel a dull pain.

“Well, if you buy a VCR. you won't be so ignorant about these things,” Dilruba's mother says.

“Maybe you're right,” I say as I pretend to concentrate on my food. I think to myself that actually all this hard work is for my family, and since they all want it…

Over the next couple of days, I talked to some of my colleagues and clients, and understood that VCRs were not extremely expensive. I even contacted the owner of an electronics store in the stadium market, who I know through work. He sounded quite enthusiastic and assured me that if needed I could pay later.

I decided that I was going to buy a VCR soon. After all, along with sofa sets and TVs, this was also a status symbol for a family. I was quite excited about announcing it to my family at dinner, but first I inquired about how my daughters were doing at their studies. Dilruba's mother seemed agitated. “It's time we get tutors for them. Hamid saheb's children have tutors for almost all subjects.”

“Really? You need so many tutors?”

“What do you mean, ‘so many’?” Dilruba retorted.

“Okay, so find out about good tutors,” I said. Towards the middle of the meal I decided to tell them about the VCR. “Dilruba's mother, I have decided to buy a VCR. soon. I am a little busy this week, since this is audit time, but by next week…”

The girls seemed a little excited, but Dilruba's mother went on, “The VCR is for the house. That doesn't take care of outside dangers! When the girls get up on rickshaws I am always worried that they will fall off. So many accidents in the streets these days…”

“Yes, that is true. But it's unsafe everywhere. What can be done?”

“Why!” Dilruba's mother almost shouted. “You can at least buy a reconditioned car. We can also hire a driver. Our daughters can then travel in safety…after all they will be married off soon!”

I was dumbfounded. I was preparing to buy a VCR and here they were asking for a car! I had never thought about this before. While I bent my head and concentrated on my food, Somiruddin's words came to my mind, “This table is made of gold…you have to strike while the iron is hot. Opportunities don't come all the time…”

I had already made a lot, and if I can go on like this, I can make a lot more. But with our fortune, my family's demands and dissatisfactions are also increasing. How far will I have to go? Where will this journey end?

Other days, I am usually exhausted by this time, and I fall asleep immediately. But today I was sleepless. I thought about what I had wanted out of life. As I was dozing off, the answer came to my head. ‘Yes, I had wanted to see my daughters happy, as happy as they were when I had bought them that whole watermelon. If only I could see them that happy again…’

I was surrounded by darkness and everybody was sleeping. Dilruba's mother was snoring beside me. I was very thirsty, but in the darkness I couldn't figure out where the jug of water was, which would satisfy my thirst.

artwork by sanjiv das