8th February 2008

By: kutubuddin kamal

Nahian was not feeling good; rather he was feeling a lot of suppressed aggression, agitation and just plain annoyance. It hadn’t been a good day at school, not that any of his days at school were ever good but today was particularly obnoxious. Ria, a girl who constantly picked on him in class had poured a generous amount of water on the seat of his chair during economics class. The work was done with such perfection that Nahian was completely oblivious of the water on his seat, until it eventually seeped up into his pants. Startled, he jumped up and the entire class broke out into an unstoppable phase of laughter. Even Mr. Haque, the teacher, had a slight grin on his face which disgusted Nahian and he stormed out of the classroom and went to the toilet. He hadn’t been to any of the classes for the rest of the day. It was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, yet things like this always happened to him.During his rickshaw ride back home, he continually tried not to contemplate over the day’s event but ended up doing just that.
‘The fair is Tk. 20’ the rickshaw puller sternly informed him as Nahian disembarked in front of his house and handed him twelve taka.
Nahian couldn’t believe what he heard. The ride from Lalmatia to Mohammadpur was always twelve taka, fifteen if there was too much traffic, and this guy here is asking for twenty? Nahian wanted to take back the twelve taka and walk away, but instead ended up giving him another six taka and climbed up to the second floor of the building to the apartment where he lived with his mother.

As he rang the bell, a familiar distorted figure opened the door and stood in front of him. It was his sister. This day is officially the worst one ever, he muttered to himself. His sister stood at the doorway, scrutinizing him from top to bottom, in a weird gesture that made him feel like he was being scanned by a metal detector. After a minute’s silence she frowned and said‘Why did you grow a goatee?’‘I don’t know’, he was too accustomed to this question. Somehow everyone on earth had a problem with his goatee.
What is it to them? I grow it on my face not theirs! Nahian had thought several times before.

Now as he stood in front of his sister he wanted to tell her the same thing but she was one of those shrewd women, with whom he could never win an argument.‘Yes you do’ she replied scornfully. ‘Fine, I like it, that’s why’ ‘So now you are turning into a wannabe?’ She said sardonically. ‘No I’m not!’ he felt his voice rising with anger.‘The next time I visit, I’ll probably see you with your ears and nose pierced and hair dyed and…’Nahian stormed past her and went into his room, he had had enough.His sister, Saima who was seven years older than him had always been skeptical about him in every way. She also seemed to have a penchant towards finding his flaws.
When she got married last year and moved to Mirpur, Nahian had sighed in relief and had been close to being ecstatic. She would occasionally drop by and exasperate him, but at least it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. His mother would always nod in agreement when his sister went on and on about how he was transforming into a junkie and Nahian only wished she had been born mute.
Now that Saima has been pregnant for 3 months, her visits have become more frequent and Nahian felt sorry for his brother-in-law, Osman who had to deal with this tempestuous termagant every single day.
Nahian had always liked Osman. He was the exact opposite of his wife and seemed to understand the trouble his wife caused Nahian. One day he even overheard a conversation between them, Osman saying ‘Saima, he is only seventeen, it wouldn’t kill you to not bug him all the time.’
Although it was a futile effort, Nahian still appreciated the gesture.Regardless of the early unfortunate incidents of the day, today was a going to be an exceptional day for Nahian and he has been looking forward to this day for quite a while now. The rock band Artcell was going to perform at the Youth Club in Gulshan and to call Nahian a diehard fan would be an understatement. He had bought his ticket a month ago, the very first day of ticket sales. He told his mother about the concert a week ago during lunch and she simply listened with an expressionless face, putting him in a dilemma as to whether he would be allowed to go or not. He didn’t dare ask her again lest she said no.Now as he sat on his bed with a red face and still in his school uniform, he could hear Saima’s shrill voice yelling at his mother, telling her how arrogant he had become and how he lacked in decent manners. If it had been a different day, he probably wouldn’t let it get to him, but it had already been a terrible day from the start and his sister just pushed him over the edge. After ten more minutes, he finally got up, turned on his computer and played his favorite Artcell song with the volume up and went to the bathroom for a shower.

Just as he was done taking his shower, his mother entered the room and the music came to an abrupt stop as she unplugged the computer. He absolutely detested it when she did that.Nahian dragged his lean body out of the shower and with water still dripping from his wet hair; he stepped of the washroom‘How many times have I asked you not to turn the volume up so high?’ His mother asked, her pear shaped face with the bulging eyes showed contempt.Nahian shook his head.He knew there was no point in arguing with her. His mother claimed she knew everything, literally everything. Even if she said she had been the queen of England in her previous life, everyone would have to accept that as a fact
‘Why did you upset your sister? You know the doctor said she shouldn’t get stressed’‘I didn’t do anything, she just needed a reason to complain about me’ Nahian said flatly, not looking his mother in the eye‘I have warned you not to speak about her like that before; you shouldn’t forget that she is seven years older than you’And seven times more wicked, he thought‘Come have lunch and we’ll go to your aunt Mila’s house’Nahian was afraid he hadn’t heard her correctly‘Aunt Mila’s house?’‘Yes’‘But she lives in Old Dhaka and I have to be in Gulshan for the concert at 4’ replied a confused Nahian. ‘I had told you before about the concert, I …’His mother cut him short‘I don’t remember giving you the permission to go’Nahian was stupefied; he couldn’t believe he would miss the concert‘You have already started behaving like an outcast, and I won’t have any more of that concert nonsense, you are coming with us to aunt Mila’s and that’s all I know’ and with that she left the room.Nahian sat down on his bed, the water still slowly dripping from his hair.When it finally struck him that his mother was serious about not letting him go to the concert, he made up his mind. He was going to the concert.Lunch was quiet. Nahian’s father passed away when he was in grade six, his mother lived off his savings and owned a small boutique which allowed her to stay home almost all day. The only extra people today were his sister and brother-in-law. Saima didn’t speak to him, but didn’t forget to glare at him every time their eyes met. Osman had asked him about his school and friends and Nahian replied without asking reciprocating.After lunch, Nahian went back to his room. It was 3 in the afternoon and he began getting dressed to go to the concert. He didn’t have many friends in school, his only friend Maruf, went to Sylhet with his family, so that meant he would be going to the concert alone.Nahian checked his wallet. He had Tk. 200 that he had saved from the money his mother gave him every day for his rickshaw fare.Tk.200 would suffice he thought. He put on a plain black t-shirt, wore his favorite pair of worn out denims, shoved the ticket in his pocket and was all set.Now it was time for the most difficult part, to tell his mother, that he was going to the concert.Nahian slowly left his room and entered the living room where his mother, sister and brother-in-law where having a vivacious conversation.As he entered the room, Saima instantly stopped talking, the smiling face replaced by a grimace. His mother looked up at him 'I said we'll leave at 4, why are you dressed now?'
'I'm not going to aunt Mila's''What?..Why?' his mother eyed him suspiciously.'I told you I'm going to the concert''And I think I told you that you couldn't go! Is that too that hard for you to understand?'Nahian remained silent for a minute
'But Amma..please…its Artcell and I have always wanted to go to an Artcell concert and--''Now do you understand Amma what I told you' his sister interrupted. 'Your son has forgotten how to talk to his mother, must have learned all this inexplicable behavior from his friends in school'Nahian wanted to rip her giant head off! How he loathed her he couldn't explain.Osman who had been silently listening to the conversation cut in.
'Nahian its ok you can go to the concert'Saima glared at her husband in disbelief'Who are you to give him the permission to go?'
Osman ignored his wife and again asked Nahian to go to the concert.Nahian was so confused and excited that he even forgot to say thank you to Osman.He smiled at Osman and almost ran out of the house, beaming.
His mother remained silent, probably in confusion or infuriation.
The scorching afternoon sun embraced as Nahian stepped out of the house. The summer was at its prime, with terrible humidity and heat. Nahian walked from his house in Iqbal Road to Asad Asad Avenue, looking for a CNG auto rickshaw the entire way.

He had been standing on the sidewalk opposite to St. Joseph school for fifteen minutes now. The wide road of Asad Avenue was almost deserted with only occasional cars passing by. He had seen just two CNGs for hire, but both refused to take him to Gulshan, an every day, absolutely deplorable occurrence in Dhaka.

Another fifteen minutes went by and Nahian could feel the slow trickling down of sweat from his forehead and back as checked his for the 500th time. Finally he was too aggravated to be standing in the sun anymore and began walking when suddenly he heard a croaky voice say ‘Jaben Bhai?’ Nahian was startled to see that it was an auto rickshaw driver who had been driving behind him.
‘Yes, Gulshan’ replied Nahian spontaneously.
The shabby driver didn’t seem interested
‘There’s too much jam on the way and-‘
‘I’ll give you 10 taka over the meter fare’
‘Nah, it’s not worth it, will you go for a 100?’
Had it been another time, Nahian would probably have laughed his head off at the insinuation, but now it was different. He was less than half an hour away from the concert and was perspiring profusely.
‘Ok’ he said reluctantly and climbed into the three-wheeler.
After ten minutes, it turned out that the driver wasn’t exactly bluffing. They were stuck in terrible traffic at Bijoy Shoroni.
Damnit! murmured Nahian
‘Mama, we won’t be able to make it to Gulshan anytime soon’ the driver sighed.
Nahian wasn’t listening to him, he knew that already and was only wondering how he would manage to get inside the compound with the swarming crowd and long queue, let alone be there in time for the concert.
After another long twenty minutes, the three-wheeler was finally in Mohakhali, the traffic had thinned out a bit and the auto rickshaw took a quick right under the fly over and sped through the long road that connected Mohakhali to Gulshan-1.
Nahian checked his watch again, this time picturing himself in a few minutes time gloriously standing inches from the main gate of the youth club and handing his ticket to the guard, the guitar tunes engulfing him..
‘Crap!’ exclaimed the driver.
Nahian was shot back to reality and to his utter dismay realized what had happened. The three-wheeler had broken down and the driver stopped it in front of the Aristocrat Restaurant in Gulshan-1.
Nahian didn’t want to wait for the driver to try and fix it. The meter blinked Tk. 48. He hurriedly removed a 50 taka note from his wallet and handed it to him.
Nahian found himself almost running to reach the end of the road, where he would take a rickshaw to go to the youth club. A long queue of rickshaws were waiting for passengers and he got on the first one in the queue and said ‘Wonderland!’ the rickshaw puller sensing the urgency in his tone, peddled hard.
As the rickshaw came to a stop opposite to wonderland, Nahian thrust a ten taka note in the rickshaw puller’s hand and hurriedly crossed the busy road. As he walked towards the youth club, beside wonderland, something didn’t seem quite as right.
What was it? He wondered and then it came to him. ‘Why was everything so quiet? And where are all the cars and people?
He glanced at his watch again it was almost 5.
Had the concert ended so soon? No, that couldn’t be it
As the youth club came into view, things seemed even odder; there were teenagers and children playing in the field. There was no stage, no giant amplifiers, no binding lights, no sign of a concert to begin or to have just ended. Nahian was downright flabbergasted.
He approached a guard in uniform, leisurely sipping tea and taking long drags from his cigarette, sitting on a bench in a tea stall next to the gate.
‘Bhai, ajke concert chilo na?’ He asked inquisitively
‘Na’ the answer came flatly
‘Are you sure? I have the ticket with me right here’ said Nahian and brought out the red rectangular piece of cardboard paper out of his pocket and handed it to the guard.
He studied it for a few seconds then looked at Nahian with disdain.
‘Can’t you read?’ he asked
‘What?’ Nahian was taken aback
‘It says Friday, 8th February, today is Thursday’
In complete disbelief Nahian snatched the ticket from him and read the date ‘Friday, 8th February 2008’
Nahian didn’t quite know how to react, and found himself painfully smiling as he made his way back towards the main road.
So much for that!