GMB Akash stories – GMB AKASH

Being Human

Be the reason someone smiles, someone feels loved and believes in the goodness of humanity. Life is a beautiful journey between a Human Being and Being Human. Let’s take at least one step each day to cover the distance.

Sharing ten real life stories of humanity

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

I had never seen any love or care for us in anyone’s eyes. When I work people give me a feeling that I came out from Hell. We cannot sit anywhere to have a cup of tea. People look at us like they look at dirt. There were days when I hid my tears after being insulted by strangers for no reason. I was sure there was no love left in this world for the poor.

Ten years ago, I was working beside a children’s school. My job was to clean the drain and repair the site. We blocked the road and it was taking a few days so the children had to walk to their school. I attentively did my work every day without noticing anyone who could again insult my job. One day a little girl arrived, smiling widely at me and said, ‘Why are you so dirty?’ Before I could say anything, her father dragged her away by saying, she should never talk to strangers. I felt horrible; imagined he must be telling her daughter how disgusting workers like me were. And then for a week, she came to me every time with same question, why was I so dirty. I never got a chance to speak as her father was always there to drag her away. I could not sleep those nights by thinking about a beautiful reply, ‘why I am dirty’. The poor cannot be clean all the time; we are born in dirt, raise in dirt and die in dirt and no one cares when a dirty thing left the world. I could not say any of this to her. I wanted to quickly finish the job and never wanted to see the girl ever again.

On the last day when we were finishing the work, it was Ramadan afternoon. I was very tired and down. The school was closed and the baby girl did not arrive. I felt relieved, packed everything and was about to leave when suddenly I saw the little girl coming to me by running. She could not breathe properly when she arrived. I was waiting to hear the same question, but she did not say anything and just smiled. Then I asked her where her father is. She showed me a car parked far from us. I waited to hear the same thing. And then she opened her mouth, ‘Uncle, do you like the color red?’ By bringing a packet from behind her she put it in my hand. Her father honked the horn and she quickly said, ‘I cannot clean drain, but I can help you to be clean. This shirt is for you, Uncle.’ I could not say a word and she rushed when her father repetitively honked. The girl left me in tears. She proved to me, humans still care for humans. I do not know where she is now; what she might be doing. I pray to God every day, wherever that little angle is, may God clean all the dirt from her life.

– Shohrab

I am very thankful to Allah. I have a home to sleep in, food to eat, children to love. There are homeless people who are living near this train station who suffer from the cold at night; beg for food in afternoon; have no one to look after them. When I see them I stop complaining to Allah about the little problems I have. Though I live in this vulnerable house, eat rice and lentils for lunch or dinner and suffer from illness, I am grateful to The Almighty for all the blessings he has given me.

But I have never done anything for anyone. Poverty made me unable to do something for the people who are less fortunate than me. This thought gives me pain all the time. I often think, what I will take with me when I will die.

Also, I do not know, if I can manage to live another winter or not. People of my age badly suffered this time. No one notices us. When you are old and poor, you suffer silently because there will be no one to hear your pain, no one will come to you to give you warmth. In this crucial season, some of us gather together beside a fire every morning; all of us are waiting for our deaths because every winter one of us is dying. Last year, Safura died from pneumonia. We do not know who will leave us this year.

Life is not easy for me. I have never had any new cloth, but that is okay, there are many people of my age who even do not expect what I have. A few days ago for the first time in my life, I received a winter Shawl. I was not able to open and wear it for days. I keep looking at it and when I decided to wear it, I saw Mariyum, my ninety-year-old neighbor, who does not even have a proper saree. I gifted my shawl to her. I badly want her to survive this winter. If my shawl can keep her warm for some time than it will be the best reward of my life. And what about me? I can manage with this old shawl….and when I feel too cold I do prayers; you can believe it or not, when I pray I feel warm. – Morsheda Begum

Every Friday for almost seven years along my grandma, I continue to go places and I ask people, ‘Do you know me?’ Some days I felt tired and asked her to return. But she always held me, kissed my forehead and asked me to ask the same question to more people. Most of the days we only have green chili to eatwith rice. My grandma is a beggar; she has severe knee pain. She made a wooden stroller for herself and sometimes I push her all the way while begging. She continually told me I need to find my parents. I feel horrible when she tells me one day she will find my parents and then she will give me back to them. But she has no idea how much I enjoy her cuddling and I know no one other than her. But she is always reminding me that I have a family somewhere.

I was lost at the age of three. My grandma found me on the roadside, crying alone in the middle of strangers. No one was able to tell her who was I and except her everyone left me alone on the road. She took me to the local mosque and waited there with me for a week. I had no memory of these things. I am familiar with only the mosque where she forces me to go every Friday along with her. My grandma nicely kept my cloths which I was wearing when I was lost. I continue to walk miles with her and asking people if they know me.

She sent me to school but I hated the place where everyone asked me about my lost parents and how I feel being raised by a beggar. There was a question in the book, ‘What does your father do?’ And I answered ‘I do not know’. My teacher punished me for writing that. Then I never went back to school again. I started working for my grandma, because I do not want her to beg with her knee pain. I do not like when people yelled at her by asking us to leave. While one day my grandma was feeding me I asked her if she can live without me. Then she started crying and replied she has no one in this world without me. After that I stopped asking the question, ‘Do you know me?’ I do not want anyone to know me, my grandmother is my everything and I only want her to know me well. – Abdullah

I cannot sleep at night because of the pain in my knees. I have to carry 1000 bricks every day and then I get 100 taka. I cannot rest at night because at this moment I am suffering from cold and fever. But I have to work for myself and Munia. My husband brought his second wife Munia when my son was one year old. You will not understand how it feels to see your husband living in the same room with another woman. I hated her so much! Ten years ago in a bus accident my husband died and Munia lost her legs. Now for all these years I am taking care of Munia; whatever I earn I spend for both of us. Relatives tell me many times to throw Munia from my home but I can’t. Like me she has no one to go to. My only son never comes to see me. I know very well how it feels to be abandoned – Lijiya (50)

When I arrived from my village I was seven years old. To get one piece of bread I turned into a dog. Whenever I looked into the sky I felt my world was moving very fast, everything was buzzing all around me. I looked into the dustbin; saw how people were throwing food with filth. I wanted to run and snatch the leftover food from their hands; I imagined how good it would feel to have all that food. I wanted to say, ‘do not throw it away’, ‘please give it to me’. But people were stranger to me; they looked at me like the way they looked at a stray dog. I was hungry for two days and two nights. I drank very little water. Whenever I sipped water I felt I would vomit. Water tasted bitter and I was day dreaming for some food. Then I went to the contractor and told him I could transport five hundred bricks; he just had to give me some food. He looked at me and said, I was of no use for him, because he could count the bones on my body. Then what he saw in me I do not know. He gave me the first chance. That day when I had food I felt nothing in this world has meaning without food. My contractor asked me what I wanted to do when I grow up. I touched my plate and said, ‘When I will grow old, I will share my food’. It’s been twenty years every day I am feeding two hungry children: one in the afternoon, and another during dinner. I have no idea from where these hungry children came to me. They also know they are only welcome for one time. After having food they will be asked to write down the name of Pagla Hasan. Many times I smiled to myself after realizing they do not often recognize that I am the Hasan. They only know there is a Hasan who feeds hungry children. I thank God every time when I touch my food. There is no greater pain than hunger. When these children eat beside me I see myself in them. I feel so content when they burp and smile after having a peaceful meal. People of this world have no idea how valuable two grains of rice is for a hungry stomach.

– Hasan

Billu was injured when I found him beside the train track. He was walking with pain and looking at me for help. I am from a very poor family. Even sometimes, my housemaid mother has to beg for rice so that she can equally feed her three daughters. Taking a cat as a pet does not suit beggars. I looked away and tried to cross the road by ignoring him. When I looked back I saw him looking at me with despair. Then helplessly I went back and embraced him.

We, three sisters hid him from my mother’s eyes for three days. Then one morning, we woke up when amma was screaming in anger. Billu tried to sleep in her cozy blanket and when she screamed in surprise he peed on it. My mother briskly took him and headed for the rail line; three of us begged her not to throw Billu away but she listened to no one. The whole day none of us ate anything….with great surprise Billu returned to us secretly at night by himself. The next morning, my mother took him to a far away place. And informed us the cat could never be able to find us again. But the genius came back again. And again my mother furiously took him with her and left him in a place that we never heard of before. That night we were wide awake to welcome him at home but he did not come back.

The next day, we did not take any food or water, including my mother. During the evening she rushed to search for Billu, by skipping her work. My mother found Billu injured in the same place she had left him. Local people informed her some boys had beaten up him for fun. My mother spent her one month salary on Billu and because of our care he is now fat and naughty. I asked amma, why she allowed him to be with us. She said, our father left us in an abandoned place and fled because he never wanted daughters. She could never do the same even with an animal. Billu is now our naughty brother, who eats most of our food and sleeps only with my mother. – Rojina

I am a care taker of a mosque. It was my mother’s wish that I should spend my life in the path of Allah. I accepted it after her death. I studied in the village Maktab and took the responsibility of taking care of the mosque I am serving now. I have met different kinds of people the last twenty years. Some are very pious, some are not, some tell lies all the time, some always speak the truth, some help the poor from their heart, some just want to show off. But I met someone whose story I will never forgot. He used to always arrive at the mosque first in the morning. I have never seen him talk to anyone ever. He was not even from our area. Every day after prayers when everyone left the mosque he stayed there and spent hours there by crying alone. Many days I had goosebumps and wondered what made this man so sorrowful. Eventually I learnt that he is a very rich man who lives far away from our place. He established a mosque, a madrassa, a school and an old persons’ home. He has everything that a man can only dream of. After knowing all this I became more interested in knowing the reason of his arrival in this particular mosque and what made him cry so much. One day when he was distributing clothes and food among beggars and the poor, with all my courage I questioned him. He was looking at me for some time and then surprisingly, he said he will answer me the next morning. I could not even sleep that night. That morning when everyone left, he came and sat with me. Then I got to know what I did not even imagine in my worst dreams. The man was left outside this mosque when he was five to seven days old. When his father (who eventually adopted him) came for his Fazaar Prayer he saw a dog trying to open the tie of a folded cloth and started to push towards him. He went there and opened the cloth where he found the baby boy fighting with death and not responding. Without finishing his prayer he took the baby to a doctor while the Imam helped him all the way. The man who had no child adopted him afterward, and tried hard to find the baby boy’s actual parents. But there was no trace of his identity. They raised him perfectly; he is following Islam with all his heart. But since the day he knew about this truth, he was no longer able to rest in peace. He wanted to know from where he had come, who were his parents, why someone wanted to kill him and threw him in the road. He was wrapped by a mustard coloured cloth which implies that he might not even be a Muslim by birth. When he was talking to me about this I lost the words on how to console him but I tried with my heart. I told him, ‘You are the best human being I have ever met. Know that Allah knows everything and whatever happened to you, there must be a reason for that. You should not spend a single day with this thought of sadness which is insulting your current parents’ love and Allah’s love for you. If you believe in their love, you will not hurt your heart anymore. Please do not come to this place ever again; it will not let you forget your past.’ He did not answer me and left. Since that day, he never came here again, I do not know if I did right or wrong, but I felt being human should be our first identity, and all I wanted was to ease his pain as another human.

– Jainal Abedin (36)

The time I needed my family’s support, they left me alone. I was vulnerable and heartbroken. At that time Potu’s mother gave me shelter. Despite our religious differences, differences of my cast and creed, she treated me as a family member. No one ever talked to me nicely but Potu’s mother was the one who showered me love and respect. I celebrated Eid with her and she gifted me new clothes in my puja. I know how difficult it was for her to take me into their house after facing economic and social problems. But she often said Allah is the one to judge, not the people. She passed away while giving birth to Potu. For me he is my blood grandson. I taught him everything his mother should teach him if she would be alive. Every morning I wake him up for his prayers. I will give him the love that I learned from his amazing mother. Now he is my world.

– Al-Amin’s (Potu) grandma

No one has any concern. Even if somebody dies, even if the whole world gets destroyed, no one really cares! What kind of times are we are all living in? Human are no longer human! Now people do not think of anything else but themselves. After one hour of continuous efforts, I alone brought the fire under control. To bring water I had to cross the bridge and fell so many times, but no one came to help to stop the fire. ‘The fire will not harm my house even if the whole area is destroyed.’ That was the attitude of all viewers. By neglecting our requests, factories, tanneries throw wastage here daily; they do not even care for school-going children. Today may be someone’s cigarette created this fire and it might destroy the whole area. Even my neighbor stopped me from coming here, lightly advised, ‘why endanger your own life for others’? What’s wrong with us? I am very tired; I am very depressed, I feel ashamed as a human being to see how hundreds of people find entertainment by watching me from far, without helping a bit’

– Sumon (27)

‘I lost many things in my life and by standing at the end of my life, now I can tell you how I gained everything back that I had lost. My husband died when during flood, a tree had fallen on him. I was standing just ten feet away from him in water. That night, I was seven months pregnant. After losing my husband, my house and everything I had, I felt like committing suicide. But I became a mother after waiting for twelve years for a child. I had to survive for my child, so I came to the city to search for work. After so many struggles I gave birth to my son. The midwife told me, my son had problems and asked me to be prepared for his death. When he died after seven days, I had no one beside me and had no money. Even if you die you need money but no one came forward to help me. Only some orphan-street children gave me money, so I could do his last work. After I buried him when I returned to my hut, I didn’t cry. From that day, I no longer look behind at what I had lost. Since that day, for thirty years, I have feed one orphan each day from my food. I lost my child but I kept giving the portion of his love to every miserable child I met on my way.

For the last five years, I have been suffering from tuberculosis and heart problems. Now all those orphan children grew up and are taking care of me. I lost one child but now I have hundred’ – Maa Asha

The Alchemy of Mother

A mother’s womb is the place where life and love begin. In her heart we never grow up. No one smells like her and she remains the same even after hundred years. And when she dies she leaves a part of her soul for us; wherever we go her existence follows us. A mother’s heart can travel any time and any distance. There is an invisible chord between us which our mothers continue to nourish forever. This blog post is a Tribute to all mothers. This is for honoring the most irreplaceable person of our life. No one knows the alchemy of mother, she remains the one, no one can take her place.

Sharing Ten heart wrenching real life stories of Mothers, featured first on this Facebook page. GMB Akash

Like everyone you are also thinking that I am a beggar. But I never begged for a single day of my life. But strangely every day after I wake up I found money beside my head. I stopped wondering at generosity of strangers. There are many street children who love to stay nearby me. Because they had seen me giving away my money to other beggars. I never gave money to children, but always bought ice cream for them. My grandson loved ice cream a lot. My secret savings was for his ice cream. The day I was coming to the city with my son for my eye treatment, my grandson hugged me and was not letting me to come. He was telling me I won’t be able to come back, I was laughing on him as he always spoke about strange things. Then I told him to always remember, at the end, everything will be okay. I was sitting on the bench of the train station for almost two days. I waited for my son to arrive with a rickshaw, he told me not to move no matter what happened. The street boy who was selling water repeatedly told me, he saw my son leaving by the next train, he had heard him telling someone that he already got rid of a sick old woman. I did not trust him. I could not trust a street kid more than my son. I was not able to see clearly but as much as I could I was looking forward for his arrival, my ears were alert to hear his voice. I terribly wanted to go back to his house and give my grandson a hug. The street kid stayed with me for all the time, told me his father also left him in that station, assured me, he knew how I was feeling. No, no one can fell what I was feeling. I lost terribly in life many, many times. From the day I arrived to this strange city I never asked anyone to help. But I am asking you. Can you replace my heart? It’s been bleeding all the time without any sign of blood. I am having a terrible pain inside my chest, a feeling of pain that someone has crushed me with this world’s weight. I need peace, rest and love. But in this world there are people like me who may never get any of this. And that’s okay. Because at the end, everything ends.

– Jahanara Begum

My life had always been different. There were some cold nights when my step mother punished me by keeping me outside our home. She wanted me to leave my father. But I couldn’t. I stood all nights outside their door and cried. Their door, liked their hearts, always remained closed. I was deprived of my father’s love and later on, of his property. After marrying me off, they directly asked me to never visit them again. To confirm that decision, my father gave all his property to my step brothers before my father died. I accepted and never questioned my father. You can’t fight to get love, it has to come on it’s own.

I lost my mother during my birth. I learned how to survive cruelty, as the world’s most unfortunate is the one who loses his mother during birth. I was also unfortunate to never know how it felt to be loved. When my husband shut his door on my face as well, I not surprised. I had been losing the battle since my life’s day one. And that day when my husband threw me away, I did not know what was about to come. I had no idea that a life was growing inside me. When I knew about my child, it was too late and I did not want to go to that house where I was beaten by everyone for the crimes I never did. Surprisingly, when I started living on street, I was happier. I slept hungry in my father’s house and as well as my husband’s many nights, but I never went to sleep hungry when I lived on my own in the streets. There was always someone who shared their food with me. There were beggars who gave me food, and laborer who gave me clothes. I was not alone among the strangers but I was so lonely among my very own family.

When my son was about to be born, I started having the fear of death. But we both survived. I passed hours looking at his face and often pinched myself it make sure it wasn’t just a dream. I have never felt such joy in my thirsty years of life. Though there was no one beside my child, I could never say his father’s name, no one cared for him without me, but together, we found happiness in our fragility. I continued to fight for our happiness.

A few days ago, when I had to bring him to this hospital, the doctor told me they will try their best to save my son, but I should prepare for the worst and stay strong.That moment I refused to be strong. I refused to be strong anymore. I refused to let go of my life. I spent the whole night on my knees. praying to God with every word I know, with all the belief I had. For how much longer would God keep putting so much of weight on my chest? When would he understand how hard it was for me? I refused to take any more pain. I do not know how I passed that night . After sun rise, a nurse arrived and asked me to visit my child. I rushed to him. And discovered that God had answered my prayer; he had given back me my life. I won’t let him go anywhere.

– Mayeeda

No one ever loved me. When my mother left me, in shock I could not able to talk for a year. It was not her crime. But I wanted to sleep in her lap for at least one night, but I could not. My father never bought a hair lace for me. I could not remember if anyone loved me for a while. No one kept their hand in my head to give me courage. One day I lost myself. My aunt willingly left me in a ferry station, knowing I would never make it home. I was so afraid and cold. Just felt like the day when my mother left me alone. A girl, ten years old in an unknown, strange world, where there is no love, empathy. Since then years had passed, I did everything to survive. People used me in so many purposes. I wanted to die but surprisingly found out dying is harder than living, I could not throw myself in river water, I kept loving and hating me all at once. When I first felt my daughter’s movement, I was hungry, there was nothing to eat. There is no bigger pain than hunger; my tiny girl could not sleep inside my womb because we were hungry, hungry for food and love. The day when she was born there was no one beside me, when she grabbed my fingers; I felt for the first time – someone arrived to love me, whom I will never let go.

– Reshma

‘One day madam bought a girl of nine years old. Her stepmother sold her to a brothel and then spread the news that she had been lost. The stepmother was satisfied to get rid of a stepdaughter for a life time and 3000 taka was just a bonus of selling a human being. My madam gave the little girl to me to prepare for clients. She was a doll, her pink chubby cheeks and big brown eyes melted my heart. When she cried and cuddled me at night I felt like that baby was made of milk. I went through forced abortions two times; for me Putul was my lost fetus. I bought her a doll to play with. After seven days she was able to speak, her first question was, ‘will that madam cut my hands and send me for begging’? I closed my eyes and whispered, ‘they will do much worse than anyone’s imagination’. Madam was impatient and gave me one week to teach her all the tricks of the business. And I planned something else by putting my life at risk. The day before they fixed a client for Putul, I communicated with one of my old admirers to talk to an organization who was working with orphans. I knew they would kill me if they found me while or after transporting the girl to the orphanage. But that time I did not care about my life. I was able to get her free from this hell. She left her toy doll for me as her memory. I know there must be thousands of such hells waiting for the girl but at least I was able to save her from the biggest one. Please pray for my baby; may she get all the happiness and love in her life; may her chubby cheeks always gets rosy from laughter.’

– Purnima, a sex worker

I used to think with every passing year I might forget every scar I have. But that did not happen. Even by passing time I tend to remember all tiny memories deeply. I had a past that shattered my present and future. My parents married me off when I was nine years old. Before I knew what is the rule of a husband I was married. My first daughter was born when I was ten. By the time, my husband and in-laws had sent back me and my daughter to my home as my parents were unable to pay them dowry. To me, my daughter was nothing just a lively doll to play. And again before I could play with my doll enough they snatched her and married me off with my current husband. My mother sent off my daughter to a far flung location that still now I have no idea who have adopted her and where she might be. My bitter life started and my current husband continued to question me about my past for the rest of my life. I gave birth to three sons and by the time they know about my past all were adult and educated. They rejected me and continued to insult me with their father. At the age of eighty five I urge to be with my lost daughter. She is just ten years younger than me but when I recall her I can only remember some tiny fingers holding me tight, I get a smell something like cinnamon, I see those big eyes wondering at me. I keep living in my past; I am still a ten years old mother.

– Tahora Khattun (85)

I never called my mother ‘maa’. Calling her maa was prohibited. My mother gave birth to me secretly. I heard that my father never returned to take her back. No one knew where he went. On the day of my mother’s wedding she held me in her chest she cried a lot. I was five years old and never allowed to call my mother ‘Maa’. Her sandalwood smell enchanted me for long. I told her, ‘Aunty your smell is amazing.’ Like everyone, my new father knew I was the daughter of her late sister. He pointed at me and told my grandmother, I should never visit their village. My grandma laughed and snatched me from my mother saying I would never visit them. When my mother was leaving I was locked inside our kitchen but my heart was running behind her. I was crying and saying, ‘Aunty, come back.’ Calling Maa was forbidden.

My grandfather planted a coconut tree when my grandma conceived my mother. That tree was same age as my mother. She taught me to call that tree ‘Maa’. For twenty years I called that tree ‘Maa’. I never went to see her and she never arrived to see me. Sometimes I secretly embraced the tree and whispered how much I missed my mother. It was very difficult to sleep at night; I wanted to have her smell. Without that sandalwood smell it was impossible to fall asleep. Most night I cried and cried bu did not utter the word ‘Maa’.

My mother sent all my expenses but I was raised alone. On my wedding day, with everything my mother also sent me her wedding saree, the saree that my father gave her on their wedding. She was not allowed to attend my wedding. But I did not miss her, I was wearing her wedding saree which had her sandalwood smell. I had no idea if she missed me or not. No idea if she ever wanted to tell me anything. After my mother’s death they wanted to take me to see her for last time. I did not attend her funeral. Even now to me my mother is an eighteen years old beautiful girl, whose long hair and big eyes are enough to fall in love, who smells like sandalwood. Whenever I close my eyes, I see those big eyes, filled with an ocean of tears. In my dreams I tell her not to worry, I tell her how happy I am without her. Only sometimes I wanted to scream and call her ‘Maa’, ‘Maa come back’.

– Suraiya

I did not want to kill him. I wanted him to be in my life. I knew that if anyone could find it out, they would kill him. But I was able to hide him for many months. Then sometimes in morning when I went to sleep I asked myself why to punish someone by bringing into my life which has no hope, no tomorrow. But he was the only one with whom I talk like a child without being afraid, without being someone else. He also responded in my stomach like a butterfly by assuring that he will never leave me.

The day my madam found out I was pregnant; she wanted to kill my child. She was trying to kick me and I held her legs. I screamed, begged her to give me a chance to live. I did not leave her feet for how long I cannot say; then she stopped pushing me and asked me why I wanted to bring lifetime suffering. She left without hurting me anymore.

Then the time arrived. During delivery I had eclampsia and severe blood loss. Through the entire time I did not stop talking to my child, I whispered to him that we had to make the journey. Till then we survived many miracles. He was then three months old, his only favorite thing was bird. But we were caged; I was not able to show him any bird. We had no room and I had to go back to attend clients. With every passing day, I was afraid that one day my boy will hate me most. But whenever I looked at him he always smiled by assuring that all I had is him.

He was three months twenty days old when I handover him to a childless couple. They were crying after holding my baby. I looked from distant; felt he was in the right hands. My madam requested me to keep Murad, told me that I won’t survive without him. But my mother heart felt Murad will be happy with them than me. When they were leaving, the woman came to me, put a packet of money in my bag and said they will keep his name Murad, they will not change it. I said nothing. Then the man came closer to show me Murad for the last time. Told me that when he will grow older they will bring him back to me and if he wants to be with me, they won’t stop him. I looked at my child, he smiled to me like always. I said, ‘Never tell him, his mother was a prostitute. Never let him to search me. He should never know he was born in a cage. I want him to be a bird, to fly in the sky, if you can, helps him to do that.’ I returned their packet and was able to come back to the brothel without looking back; I do not want my child to smile at a prostitute.

– Momota

I turned eighteen last month. I am a single mother, living alone with my only daughter. The day my husband left us I had to spend that night in train station. Because we had no place to go. My father asked me not to bother him and my step mother by any means. I did not want to disturb anyone. My struggle was not only about money or food; it was mainly saving my respect. When I was sitting in train station, wondering where I would go next morning, many men came near to me and whispered to my ears. I went freeze by holding my daughter close to my chest.

It was always a battle to earn respect for myself as a single mother. Because I felt that being a single mother is a crime. Every woman I know thinks I am after their men. Every man I know somehow tried to exploit me. My neighbor woman asked me to shut my door after evening, as her husband spends his free time at our open yard. I shut my door tightly even in day light. I do not let light to come at my house or any man.

In the beginning when I collected my wages, the contractor always tried to touch my fingers. May be he thought like all other men that I am too available to have. That day, I slapped the man on his face, pulled his collar, pushed him on the ground and kicked on his chest. Everyone was afraid and I was screaming like a wounded animal. I did not know that kind of woman existed on me, but I am glad to find that woman that day.

My crime is I never played victim, even when my husband fled with another woman. I broke, I crushed, I cried but I rose again and smiled. My daughter has no birth certificate as it required a father’s name. I assured my daughter we will find a country in this earth where mother’s name will be sufficient for any birth record.

– Yesmin (18) with her daughter Meem

mother 08

Inside a cotton bag I used to keep everything I had. In that bag there were my mother’s wedding saree, my children’s first clothes and my husband’s spectacle. I kept everything very dearly. In my life I have had only a few moments of happiness and I never wanted to lose those. At the age of thirty I lost my husband. I was a widow with seven children. I was not able to spend one day quietly after my husband’s death. The next day after his death I had to plough the field. At that night I went for fishing alone. After catching some fishes I cried by sitting at river side by calling my husband’s name. My house was broken which had no door. I remained alert, stayed awake all night by putting my children at sleep. I went to jungle to collect foods, I climbed in the tree, and I moved from places to places to feed my children. I spent countless days by starving, satisfyingly watching my children to eat. Whenever I went to jungle my youngest son would always follow me. He held my hand and assured me that one day when they will grow old he will give me everything I want. They grew old and I along my cotton bag kept moving in seven places for twelve months. I become a shadow for the children who were my life. I heard my elder son asking his wife, when she thinks I may die, I heard her replying ‘Not soon’. Last year when I went to live with my youngest son, I asked him to buy me a pair of glass. I showed him my empty medicine box and gave him my prescription. Suddenly he started shouting with me. He brought me out from his house, placed my cotton bag in my hand and dragged me outside far from his place. He placed me in the road; asked me to beg, told me that women of my age can manage their life by begging. He left very quickly while people were gazing at me. I felt shame, I tried not to cry, tried to hold something to get up on my own. Someone picked me up, asked me where I wanted to go. I did not reply. That moment I badly wanted to become thirty again, wanted to go to the field, to run into the jungle, to live my life. When I was slowly leaving the village a part of me was crying for my youngest son, a part of me was telling that he would arrive any moment, will hold my hand as he used to hold in his childhood. I shamelessly waited at the river side. And then I threw away my cotton bag in that river where once I used to catch fishes for my children. After that I never cried, never felt hungry for food or love.

– (Maa) Nureeja

mother 11

‘I am v-e-r-y afraid of airplane. I have claustrophobia. My son and daughter-in-law were not at all ready to leave me but I pushed them to go. My grandchildren were crying for me. But I decided to live in this old home and said if they could call me every day then I will be okay. That’s why everyday my son call me. Telling you the truth boarders envy me when I tell them how my grandchildren do skating and where they go for vacations. Last year all of them came to visit me and forced me to go with them. You know, they all are waiting for me and I will fly as soon as I will be no more afraid of flying’

After three years when I went to visit her, she went far away, in a place where there is no fear or waiting exit. I came to know that she was waiting for her son’s call for past five years. Three days authority waited for a reply from relative to handover them the dead body. The address and phone number were nonexistent. No one ever come to see her except me.

Share this:

Share this: