Brief Synopsis
Tahmima Anam’s A Golden Age tells the story of Rehana Haque, a widowed mother struggling to protect her children during Bangladesh’s 1971 Liberation War. While the novel vividly depicts the violence of Pakistan’s military campaign – which killed millions and displaced countless others – it also celebrates Bengali culture through rich depictions of food, poetry, and resilience. Rehana, an Urdu-speaking woman from West Pakistan who has made East Pakistan (later Bangladesh) her home, embodies the nation’s fractured identity. After losing her children in a custody battle years earlier, she is determined not to fail them again when war erupts. Though initially reluctant, she becomes increasingly involved in the resistance, sheltering rebels and aiding the cause, even as her son and daughter join the fight. The novel explores themes of sacrifice, guilt, and national identity, blending personal and political struggles against the backdrop of a brutal conflict. Anam’s debut, the first in a planned trilogy, is both a gripping historical narrative and a poignant tribute to Bangladesh’s birth.
SUMMARY
The Prologue begins with Rehana Haque’s inner voice addressing her deceased husband, declaring that she has lost their children. The narrative then shifts to a recent day when Rehana visits the courthouse. After leaving the court, where she has lost custody of her children, she purchases two kites – a red one and a blue one – from Khan Brothers Variety Store and Confectioners. The shopkeeper wraps the kites in brown paper and ties them with jute ribbon. Rehana tucks the kites under her arm and boards a rickshaw.
As she gets in, her lawyer runs after her to apologize, advising her to find some money if she wants to regain custody. He explains that bribes might help influence the court. Rehana does not respond and quietly instructs the rickshaw driver to take her to Dhanmondi, Road Number 5.
At home, she finds her children, Maya and Sohail, sitting on the sofa. Maya cheerfully calls out to her, while Sohail looks down at his palms. Rehana, having already cried during the rickshaw ride, struggles to contain her grief in front of them. She gives the children the kites. Maya tears into hers excitedly, but Sohail only strokes his quietly.
Rehana informs them that they are going to live in Lahore with their uncle Faiz Chacha. Maya reacts with surprise. Rehana apologizes to Sohail and tries to comfort them by speaking about flying the kites in Lahore, suggesting they will fly them back to her one day. She encourages them to be brave and promises they will return soon.
Later, Rehana takes the children to the Azimpur graveyard to say goodbye to their father, Iqbal. The graveyard is filled with other mourners. Rehana holds her children’s hands and guides them to Iqbal’s grave. Sohail recites a prayer. Rehana tells Maya to say goodbye, and Maya does so, distracted by a butterfly.
Flashbacks reveal that the judge deemed Rehana unfit to raise her children due to her youth and emotional state after Iqbal’s death. The judge believed she had not taught them properly about religion and the afterlife. Faiz, Iqbal’s elder brother, argued that the political instability in Dhaka made it unsafe for the children and that Lahore, where he lived with his wealthy, childless wife Parveen, was a safer environment.
Faiz, who never liked Rehana due to Iqbal’s devotion to her, told the court anecdotes to portray her as an unfit mother. He mentioned that Rehana once took the children to see Cleopatra, questioning the film’s suitability. He also recounted the story of Iqbal’s marriage decision being based on a coin toss, portraying Rehana as the result of chance rather than choice.
Rehana reflects on her marriage, her widowhood, and the lack of family support nearby. Faiz and Parveen offered to take the children temporarily, claiming it would give her time to recover. When she refused, they filed a legal case. In court, Faiz argued that Rehana needed rest and that the children’s welfare was the priority.
Rehana recalls Iqbal’s sudden death – how he collapsed in front of the house one January day, clutching his pocket watch as if to record his final moment, and whispering “Forgive me.” She reflects on her isolation and poverty following his death. During the hearing, she could not affirm with certainty that she could care for the children, which led the judge to award custody to Faiz.
After the verdict, Rehana watched the children leave on Pakistan International Airlines Flight 010 to Lahore, carrying their kites. She stood at the airport, watching through a window fogged with hair oil and fingerprints. Parveen called later to confirm they had arrived safely, but Rehana could barely hear her through the crackling line.
In the following days, various acquaintances and relatives visited Rehana, offering sympathy. She regarded them as “grief tourists.” Only Mrs. Chowdhury brought her daughter Silvi to visit. Mrs. Chowdhury scolded Silvi for sulking and encouraged Rehana to remain hopeful. Rehana invited Silvi to stay for a meal, although she had little food at home. Silvi asked to see Roman Holiday as promised, but Rehana only replied, “Next time.”
Rehana began writing letters to her children. Her early drafts were emotional, but she discarded them, fearing they might confuse or upset the children. Instead, she wrote cheerful, factual letters, maintaining the illusion of normalcy. She noted things like Maya’s favorite color being blue, and Sohail’s being red. She described Sohail’s scar and recounted a humorous memory involving it.
She tried to recall and preserve memories of her children’s personalities and quirks – who was quiet, who was playful, who liked certain foods, and who loved certain actors. She remembered Iqbal’s deep concern for their safety and health.
The narrative then shifts to a flashback of Maya’s fourth birthday. Iqbal had recently acquired a new Vauxhall car and was excited about it. For Maya’s birthday, the family planned a short train ride from Tejgaon to Phulbaria. Rehana prepared food, Maya wore a blue satin dress with ribbons and lipstick, and Iqbal fussed over the travel arrangements. Sohail wanted to sit in the front seat, but Iqbal insisted he stay in the back for safety. They all squeezed into the back of the car, with Maya’s puffy dress taking up much space. Rehana observed all of this, noting Iqbal’s concern and his care for the family.
The Prologue ends with Rehana still overwhelmed by memories, trying to write to her children, and struggling with the loneliness and loss that have come to define her life.
On the first day of March, Rehana prepared for her annual celebration at Road 5, which she held every year to commemorate the day she had returned to Dhaka with her children. She saved her meat rations and prepared biryani, arranged for hired chairs, and called the jilapiwallah to fry sweets in the garden. She also arranged a red-and-yellow tent for rain and prepared lemonade, cucumber salad, and spicy yoghurt. The guest list remained consistent each year: Mrs Chowdhury and her daughter Silvi, her tenants the Senguptas and their son Mithun, and Mrs Rahman and Mrs Akram, known collectively as the gin-rummy ladies.
Before dawn, Rehana stepped into her garden. The air still held the cold of winter, and a light fog hovered over the lawn. She walked among her plants, plucking a dew-covered rose and moving past jasmine, hibiscus, and fruit trees. As she moved, she looked at her larger, newer house, Shona, built to save her children. Though faded by age and weather, the house still stood tall behind the bungalow, both houses built with their backs to the sun. Rehana reflected on how the house symbolized both her triumph and her loss. She had named it Shona (gold) for everything it had cost and everything it represented.
Rehana returned indoors, touched the furniture fondly, and prayed. This was part of her daily ritual: to awaken before sunrise, move through her home, pray, and then wake her children. Although Maya and Sohail were now nineteen and seventeen, she still thought of them as her children. She woke Maya gently, reminding her it was their anniversary. She gave Sohail the rose she had plucked.
While her children bathed, Rehana ironed their new clothes. She wore an egg-blue sari; Maya had a blue georgette with yellow polka dots, and Sohail wore a brown kurta-pyjama with a collar embroidered by Rehana. Maya expressed reluctance about her outfit, citing her activist commitments, but she wore it regardless. After dressing, both children touched Rehana’s feet for blessings. She hugged them, observing how much they had grown. Sohail resembled her in appearance, while Maya bore her late father’s features and seriousness.
They left for the cemetery in rickshaws, Rehana following behind her children, watching them fondly. Along the way, Rehana thought about her estranged sister Marzia, who had visited from Karachi but disapproved of Rehana’s choices. Despite Marzia’s judgment and comments on Rehana’s language and life in Dhaka, Rehana continued to think of her family in the western part of the country, although she never sent the letters she wrote to them.
Upon reaching the graveyard, Rehana gave a few coins to the caretaker and passed graves of acquaintances. She reflected on an old man who visited his wife’s grave daily and considered herself the second-most devoted mourner. Rehana maintained her husband Iqbal’s grave with care, having planted jasmine flowers around it. She now stood at the foot of his grave with her children.
She began her silent prayer to Iqbal, updating him on the children’s ages and the current political situation, particularly the uncertainty following recent elections and the delay in declaring Mujib as Prime Minister. She ended the prayer with a simple goodbye. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Sohail brushing away tears and Maya touching and kissing the headstone.
They returned to prepare for the day’s celebration. Maya cleaned the drawing room, and Sohail assisted with the garden decorations. Rehana uncovered the biryani she had cooked overnight and mixed the layers of rice, meat, and potatoes evenly. She counted plates for the approximately twenty guests and grew nervous, as she did each year. Since Iqbal’s death, she had stopped attending the Gymkhana Club and rarely saw her friends outside this event.
Rehana recalled how her friends once tried to encourage her to rejoin the club. Mrs Rahman brought cake, Mrs Chowdhury came with Silvi, and Mrs Akram often acted uncomfortable. Though they initially respected her grief, they expected her to return to normal after the children’s return. Rehana once tried to rejoin them at the club but found herself alienated.
She remembered one particular game of gin rummy. The card table had flower-patterned tiles labeled with flower names. The other women were cheerful and lively. Mrs Chowdhury had hinted at a surprise, but Rehana felt uneasy and hot in the unfamiliar atmosphere. Despite her effort to participate, she could not reconnect with the group as she once had.
A waiter entered the room with a tray of teacups and biscuits. Mrs Chowdhury dismissed him and took charge of the tea service herself. She poured whisky from a silver flask into the cups, followed by real tea and milk, announcing the drinks were ready. When Mrs Akram questioned what was in the cup, Mrs Rahman identified it as whisky and urged everyone to drink, claiming they deserved it.
Mrs Rahman attempted to catch Rehana’s eye. Though there was initial hesitation, Mrs Chowdhury lifted a cup and joked that Rehana needed some mischief since she was not getting married. This comment led to nervous giggles from Mrs Akram. Rehana, influenced by the sugary aroma of the whisky, agreed to try it. She recalled a brief, intimate moment when Iqbal had offered her a taste of whisky in the past. She now took a tentative sip, prompting the others to join in. Mrs Chowdhury clapped in delight.
The women began playing cards. Rehana won the first round, Mrs Rahman the second, and during the third round, Mrs Chowdhury incorrectly declared victory but justified it by saying that bringing the whisky should earn her some credit. The mood turned more pointed when Mrs Akram asked why Rehana refused to marry. Surprisingly, Mrs Chowdhury joined in, expressing concern.
As all three women stared at her expectantly, Rehana felt the whisky settle uneasily in her stomach. She was no longer able to mask her true feelings with humor. Internally, she acknowledged that she had no desire to remarry. She had considered it once before building Shona, but after her children returned, the need for romantic love vanished. She feared the potential harm a man might bring to her children.
She did not voice any of these thoughts to the others. Instead, she gradually stopped attending the card games. She initially claimed a headache, then used her children’s illnesses as reasons to stay away. Eventually, the invitations stopped, and Mrs Sengupta replaced her. Rehana suspected the others gossiped about her aloofness and refusal to marry, but she accepted their misunderstanding as inevitable.
One day, Mrs Chowdhury arrived first for a gathering at Rehana’s house. Hearing her at the gate, Rehana asked Maya to watch the biryani and went to greet her. Mrs Chowdhury entered cheerfully, carrying a box of laddoos and proclaiming she had news. She was followed by a tall man in military uniform and her daughter, Silvi, dressed in ornate jewellery. She introduced the man as her son-in-law, feeding Rehana a laddoo and explaining that they were not yet formally engaged.
The uniformed man greeted Rehana formally, and she responded politely. Mrs Chowdhury praised his appearance and quiet nature, believing he was well-suited to her shy daughter Silvi. She proudly added that he was a lieutenant, seeing this as a prestigious match.
As Rehana contemplated how to break the news to Sohail, the Sengupta family arrived, knocking on the drawing-room window. Rehana welcomed them in. Mrs Sengupta appeared stylish and imposing, while her husband seemed small and nervous. Their son, Mithun, requested tea due to a headache, but Rehana and his mother insisted on an orange cola instead.
Meanwhile, Sohail and Maya were preparing food in the kitchen. Rehana, anxious to avoid a confrontation between Sohail and Silvi’s fiancé, sent Sohail on an errand to buy more sweets. Although he was irritated, she gave him money and instructed him to take a rickshaw and exit through the back to avoid being delayed by guests. He complied, and Rehana watched him leave with guilt.
Maya quickly noticed something was wrong. When she questioned Rehana, her mother revealed that Silvi was getting married. Maya was shocked and frustrated by how quickly the match had been made. She jabbed her cucumber slices and asked what they should do. Rehana replied that the most important thing was to prevent Sohail from encountering the couple when he returned.
Back in the drawing room, Mrs Rahman and Mrs Akram arrived. The pair always travelled together and appeared eager to escape domestic life. Rehana felt relieved by the growing number of guests, as it helped shift attention away from Silvi and her fiancé. She brought out the biryani and announced that lunch was ready. The guests gathered around the table as Rehana served the food and distributed plates.
Mrs Akram comments on the festive atmosphere, referencing a wedding. Rehana is actively hosting, serving biryani and offering vegetarian dishes to accommodate the dietary needs of her guests, including Mr Sengupta. She dismisses his concern about hospitality by reminding him that it has been ten years since he and his wife moved in, implying they are more like family than tenants.
In a quieter moment, Rehana finds Silvi in the corridor. Silvi compliments the biryani, calling it the best in Dhaka. Rehana, still preoccupied with unspoken concerns, tries to maintain a friendly tone. She gently addresses Silvi’s upcoming marriage. Silvi admits that her mother’s health—specifically her high blood pressure—was a major reason for her decision. Rehana remarks that Silvi’s mother appears pleased and comforts Silvi with a tender gesture.
Later, Sohail enters the scene with sweets, but Rehana is too burdened with dishes to stop him before Mrs Chowdhury intercepts him. She eagerly informs Sohail of Silvi’s engagement and introduces him to her fiancé, Lieutenant Sabeer Mustafa. Sohail’s reaction is subdued but polite, welcoming Sabeer to the family. Rehana attempts to divert Sohail to help with the dishes, but he deflects by offering cricket match tickets, inviting the guests, including Lieutenant Sabeer and Silvi. Silvi’s mother declines on her behalf, citing wedding preparations. Maya pointedly accepts, hinting at tension between her and Silvi.
As guests relax under the tent, Mr Sengupta changes the topic to politics, asking Sohail about the student movement. Sohail explains the growing unrest: although Sheikh Mujib won the election, the assembly has not yet convened, and the students are becoming frustrated. Mr Sengupta expresses hope for diplomacy, but Sohail counters that the West Pakistani leadership is stalling and bleeding East Pakistan dry. Sohail grows impassioned, criticizing the lack of resources and autonomy in East Pakistan. Sabeer questions the feasibility of independence. Sohail responds angrily, citing economic and cultural exploitation. Mr Sengupta tries to moderate the discussion by attributing hardships to natural disasters like the cyclone, but Sohail insists starvation is caused by governmental negligence. Exhausted, he ends with the belief that independence is now necessary.
Sensing the tension, Rehana quickly distributes bottles of orange cola to lighten the mood. The guests respond politely, sipping their drinks, and the atmosphere gradually calms.
As the event winds down, Rehana and her friends move to the kitchen to clean up. She complains about the leftover biryani and jokes about sending it to the mosque. Mrs Chowdhury requests a portion, already calculating its value for future meals. The women begin discussing Sohail’s political involvement. Rehana tries to downplay it, saying he has tried to stay out of politics, but the others insist he seems quite engaged. They compare Sohail to their own children, who appear more conventional and obedient.
The conversation takes a sudden turn when Mrs Chowdhury jokes that Sohail should spend his energy chasing girls instead of politics. This awkward comment leads to a charged silence. Rehana becomes aware that something deeper is about to surface. Mrs Rahman breaks the tension by revealing that Sohail is in love with Silvi. There is laughter, denial, and awkward attempts to dismiss the notion as childish or outdated. Rehana remains silent, absorbed in washing dishes, unwilling or unable to respond.
Maya interrupts the tense kitchen scene, announcing that Sohail is sitting in the garden with his head in his hands. Rehana quickly tells her to bring him lemonade and hands her a glass. Maya senses the strange atmosphere in the kitchen but leaves without asking questions.
As Maya leaves, the conversation continues. Mrs Chowdhury insists she did not know about the affection between their children and seeks Rehana’s agreement that a relationship between Silvi and Sohail would be a bad idea. Rehana, despite her pain, agrees to avoid further embarrassment for her son.
Mrs Rahman laments the situation, calling it a shame, but Rehana cuts her off, clearly distressed. She urges the women to leave, stating that her children will help with the cleaning. They say goodnight softly, sensing her discomfort. Rehana whispers a farewell, unsure if they heard her. The kitchen becomes a space heavy with tension, regret, and quiet sorrow, filled with the fading scent of biryani and the hum of overhead light.
Later in the evening, after the children had fallen asleep, Rehana lay down beneath her mosquito net. She pulled the katha up to her chin and began to reflect on the evening’s events, particularly the episode with Silvi. She wondered if there was something she could have done to prevent it. Sohail had avoided her all evening and had gone to bed without drinking his tea. When he said goodnight, Rehana thought that the way his mouth was set carried a silent accusation.
Rehana recalled Mrs Chowdhury’s critical comment about Sohail: “He’ll never make a good husband. Too much politics.” The remark had hurt Rehana, perhaps because it carried a degree of truth. Recently, both of her children had been consumed by political involvement. This change had begun when Sohail joined the university.
Rehana then reflected on the broader political history of East Pakistan. Since 1948, the Pakistani authorities had governed the eastern region like a colony. They had attempted to impose Urdu over Bengali, diverted jute revenues from Bengal to develop cities like Karachi and Islamabad, and failed to honor political promises. In response, students from Dhaka University had led protests, and it was no surprise that both Sohail and Maya had become engaged in political activism. Rehana herself could understand their frustrations, especially the illogical geography of a country split in two across India.
A major turning point had occurred in 1970 when a devastating cyclone struck. Rehana remembered the day when Sohail and Maya returned from a rescue operation. Their eyes were bloodshot as they described the rising waters, the floating bodies, and their desperate wait for food trucks that never arrived. The government had never sent the aid. This event clarified the injustice and led Maya to join the student Communist Party the very next day. She gave away all her clothes to the cyclone victims and adopted white saris, a symbol of sacrifice and political commitment. Rehana disliked seeing her daughter in white saris, but Maya remained unaware. She eagerly absorbed all the ideology shared by the party elders and began to speak passionately about uprising and revolution, as though she had uncovered a forgotten language.
Sohail’s political stance was different. He had the potential to become a prominent student leader, but he chose not to join any particular movement. He stated that he could not be influenced by any one faction. The distinctions between Communist factions meant little to him — whether they sided with Peking or Moscow, supported Mao or rejected him, or identified as Marxist–Leninist, Stalinist, or Bolshevist. Despite his neutrality, Sohail remained widely admired. He formed friendships across ideological lines and offended no one. He was popular among mullahs, rebels, artists, scientists, and students from various faculties. Girls, in particular, were drawn to him.
Rehana believed that her son’s popularity was not only due to his appearance but also his voice and demeanor. He spoke in a soft baritone and always stood with his hands behind his back, looking directly at whoever he was addressing. This posture made his presence both respectful and captivating. Women often followed him from Curzon Hall to Madhu’s Canteen, where he met his friends under the banyan tree, a historic gathering place for Dhaka’s student movements.
Despite all this, Sohail had deeply loved Silvi. His affection for her had persisted over many years. He had loved her when they watched Cleopatra the summer after his father died and again when they watched Roman Holiday. He had loved her since their school days, when she wore a blue and slate uniform, and even more when she started to mature physically. He had loved her when they exchanged poetry and romantic letters. At university, they rode home together in rickshaws, their knees knocking over potholes. He loved her when she began reading the Koran and when she agreed to an arranged marriage. He continued to love her even after she shut her bedroom window against him and refused to answer when he gently tapped on the shutters with the rubber end of his pencil.
Rehana acknowledged the likely truth in Mrs Chowdhury’s remark. Sohail was still young and inexperienced. He would eventually recover from his first heartbreak, as men often do. Still, Rehana felt that the party had not been a success. It had been meant to celebrate the children’s return on the anniversary of the day she had brought them back ten years ago.
Lying in the dark, Rehana began to recall that day, as though watching an old film reel. Though rusty and clicking, the images remained clear and emotionally powerful. This remembrance formed the final part of her nightly ritual — an effort to revisit the past and seek understanding.
Rehana makes the painful decision to sell Iqbal’s beloved Vauxhall. Mrs Akram proposed that Rehana sell the car to her husband, stating that he admired it and that she could persuade him to offer one thousand rupees. Initially, Rehana refused. However, after paying her lawyer, she was left with only two hundred and fifty rupees and decided to accept the offer. She instructed Mrs Akram to collect the car the following morning while she would be at the bazaar, as she did not want to witness its departure. Upon returning that afternoon, Rehana found the car gone, replaced by an oily stain and bare patches in the driveway.
The sale of the Vauxhall yielded one thousand rupees, which was still insufficient to meet Rehana’s financial needs. She needed money to bring her children back, raise them, and provide for their necessities. As a result, she pawned the remainder of her jewellery, including a sun-shaped locket with matching earrings, a ruby ring, and several gold chains. This brought her total to two thousand six hundred and fifty-two rupees, which remained inadequate.
Next, Rehana sold a carved teak mirror frame from her dressing table. This mirror had sentimental value, having been a gift from her father during her wedding, accompanied by a note expressing regret that it was all he could save. The mirror reminded her of her father’s decline, his loneliness in their Calcutta mansion, and the loss of family possessions to creditors.
Mrs Chowdhury suggested a new plan, prompting Rehana to hire an architect in May, two months after her court battle. She instructed the architect to build the largest and grandest house possible. Construction began in July, with workers laying cement and girders under the intense midsummer heat. However, by August, Rehana’s funds were exhausted.
Rehana approached various banks for a loan, including Habib Bank, United Bank, and National Bank. Without a guarantor, she was told she could mortgage her land, but she refused. Eventually, a man agreed to help. He brought her to his office, where he touched her arm suggestively. Rehana almost agreed until she noticed his unpleasant breath and yellowed teeth, which made her recoil. She fled the room, still holding her green fountain pen.
Months passed. Moss grew on the unfinished foundations. During the monsoon, the site turned into a flooded, stagnant pond. Rehana observed tadpoles and garden snakes in the waterlogged pit, symbolising the decay of her stalled dreams.
Eventually, Rehana found the money she needed, although how she acquired it remained a secret. She chose to keep the memory private, carrying the emotional burden alone as a testament to the lengths she went to for her children.
After that, the construction progressed rapidly. By the end of the year, the walls were up. Two months later, the plaster was complete. By March, the spring heat dried the blue-grey whitewash. Rehana watched as her carpenter, Abdul, carved the name “Shona” into a piece of polished mahogany. When asked if it was her mother’s name, she replied that it was simply the name of the house — a symbol of what she had lost and wished never to lose again.
Rehana advertised the house in the Pakistan Observer. The ad described a new four-bedroom house in Dhanmondi with a large lawn, requiring six months’ rent in advance. Mr and Mrs Sengupta responded to the ad. Mr Sengupta, a tea plantation owner from Sylhet, was often away and wanted a place where neighbours could keep his wife company. Rehana agreed and stated her requirement for six months’ rent in advance.
Mrs Sengupta, named Supriya, told Rehana she was writing a novel and admired the writer Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain. She asked if Rehana had read Sultana’s Dream, which Rehana had not. Regardless, Rehana agreed to the rental. Mr Sengupta handed over the rent in a toffee-coloured envelope, and Rehana gave him the keys.
The next day, Rehana visited the judge, received the court order, packed her belongings, and took a PIA flight to retrieve her children.
Rehana vividly remembered the reunion. She found her children playing hula hoops on the lawn. Their appearances had changed — they were darker and taller. The sight overwhelmed her with disbelief. Even years later, she still sometimes relived the moment when she reclaimed her role as their mother.
She finished recounting the story to herself and allowed the tears on her cheeks to dry.
The narrative then transitions to a public cricket match. Bangladesh was leading, and when Azmat Rana scored a half-century, the crowd erupted in celebration. People cheered, banged drums, and shouted “Joy Bangla!” repeatedly. As he reached his second half-century, the stadium was in such an uproar that the announcer’s voice was drowned out. Families filled the stadium, enjoying picnics and watching the match in the blazing sun.
Rehana had brought chicken sandwiches and passed them to her son Sohail, who was sitting nearby with his friends Aref and Joy. Sohail thanked her, gave her a slight smile, and shared the sandwiches.
Rehana sat with Maya and Mrs Sengupta. Mrs Sengupta asked if a wedding date had been set. Rehana replied that it had not. Mrs Sengupta commented on Maya’s youth and questioned the rush. Instead of responding directly, Rehana touched her arm and suggested they get drinks.
Sohail called the drinks vendor and asked for lemonade and orange. When he reached for money, Mrs Sengupta insisted on paying. Sohail accepted and sat down.
As Azmat Rana stands at the crease, Rehana tries to get a clear view of him. She climbs onto a bench, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. A sense of euphoria rises within her, and she begins to giggle openly, reflecting that this might be the happiest day of her life. She momentarily dismisses recent worries, particularly concerning her daughter Silvi, and focuses instead on her son Sohail, who is enjoying the game with his friends.
Maya notices her mother descending from the bench and is surprised. Rehana playfully comments on how handsome Azmat Rana is and offers Maya some lemonade. Meanwhile, Nigel Gifford is preparing to bowl, and Sohail is engaged in a political discussion with his friends. They debate systemic issues such as the military-industrial complex and the legitimacy of Mujib’s electoral victory. Sohail insists that real change would only occur through economic reforms, while Aref emphasizes the urgency of forming the national assembly and installing Mujib as Prime Minister.
As Nigel is about to release the ball, a subtle yet palpable shift overtakes the crowd. The atmosphere turns tense. The roaring in the stadium no longer seems directed at the game. Confusion arises among the players and spectators alike. Objects like bricks and sticks are hurled onto the field, and torn newspaper begins floating down from above. Sohail hears from a nearby group that something is being announced on the radio. Realizing the situation is deteriorating, Rehana begins packing up their things, but Sohail urges her to leave them and evacuate.
A chaotic scene unfolds as people surge towards the exits. Rehana tries to maintain contact with Maya and locate Mrs Sengupta. She clutches Maya’s arm tightly while navigating through the disoriented crowd. The players abandon the game and drift toward the edge of the field. Azmat Rana looks toward Ramna Racecourse, a site of previous celebration. The announcer’s voice is drowned out by the rising panic, and his call for calm is ignored.
Outside the stadium, Sohail gathers their group and leads them to the car. He takes the wheel of Mrs Sengupta’s Skoda Octavia. Joy and Aref join him in the front, while Rehana, Maya, and Mrs Sengupta sit in the back. Rehana tells Maya to keep the window up for safety. As they drive through the familiar streets, the usual sight of public gatherings now seems ominous. Rehana senses impending calamity and tries to make eye contact with Sohail, who remains focused on driving.
The car enters the university compound and passes by significant landmarks such as Curzon Hall and Rokeya Hall. In front of the Teacher–Student Centre, they see a growing procession of people wearing black armbands and chanting political slogans like “Joy Bangla” and “Joy Sheikh Mujib.” Maya enthusiastically joins in the chants from inside the car.
Sohail attempts to reverse the car to avoid the oncoming crowd but finds it blocked. The crowd surrounds the vehicle, banging on it and shouting slogans like “Death to Pakistan” and “Death to dictatorship.” The demonstrators press their faces and fists against the car’s windows. Recognizing Sohail, a boy named Jhinu knocks and peers inside. Sohail lowers the window slightly, and the two exchange information.
Jhinu informs them that the assembly has been indefinitely postponed. Bhutto has allegedly convinced President Yahya that a Bengali cannot lead Pakistan. Maya and the others react with disbelief and anger. As the conversation unfolds, Rehana realizes that this brief exchange is shaping a new course of action for the young men, particularly her son. She feels the ground shifting beneath her authority.
Rehana urges Sohail to drive away as the crowd begins to thin. Sohail confers with his friends and eventually agrees. However, just as they are about to leave, Mrs Sengupta offers to take over driving, suggesting the boys should rejoin their peers. Rehana is apprehensive but eventually relents after some persuasion. She fears for their safety but does not resist strongly.
Sohail parks the car near Rokeya Hall and leaves the engine running. He reassures Rehana that he will return soon after finding out more about the situation. Rehana, trying to suppress her rising panic, bids him farewell. She knows she might not be able to stop him from joining the unfolding political movement.
Mrs. Sengupta waits in front of the car, ready to drive as she tries to comfort Rehana by telling her not to worry. However, a thin boy in a lungi rushes past, causing Mrs. Sengupta’s sari to slip from her shoulder. As she bends to fix it, she trips, hitting her head on the wheel before she can break her fall. Rehana immediately rushes to her, asking if she is hurt. Mrs. Sengupta dismisses the incident as nothing serious, though she is slightly shaken. Rehana offers her a handkerchief to clean herself up, and Mrs. Sengupta notices she has lost her teep (a decorative dot on her forehead). She reassures Rehana, laughing nervously as she fixes her appearance.
The scene shifts to Maya, Rehana’s daughter, who is watching a procession from the car. Upon arriving at their bungalow, they are greeted by Sharmeen, Maya’s best friend and a politically active art student known for her political posters. Sharmeen has a large roll of paper and asks for help with it. Maya explains they had been stuck in traffic after the cricket match, and Sharmeen quickly joins them at the bungalow. Rehana, who has a welcoming attitude toward Sharmeen, offers her a place to stay, as she often does. The bond between Maya and Sharmeen is further highlighted, and the narrative reflects on their childhood friendship, marked by shared experiences of loss and a mutual need for each other’s company.
In the drawing room, Maya and Sharmeen examine one of Sharmeen’s posters. They debate whether it needs more color or if the blank space on the canvas signifies the future. Rehana, feeling a bit weary, retreats to her room, reflecting on the earlier incident with Mrs. Sengupta and the actions of Sohail, her son, who is often the voice of reason. Rehana wonders about the political movements her children are involved in, feeling both detached and somewhat uneasy about their intense involvement.
Hours later, Rehana reemerges from her room to find Sohail and his friends gathered in the drawing room. Sohail invites her to a meeting led by Mujib, the leader of the nationalist movement, who is calling for a declaration of independence. Despite her uncertainty and hesitation, Rehana decides not to attend, feeling disconnected from the revolutionary fervor her children embrace. She reflects on her own inability to fully participate in the political language of the movement and her sense of fading out of her children’s lives as they grow into adulthood and their activism.
After the meal, Sohail presents Rehana with a gift: a flag of East Pakistan, sewn in the colors of green and red with a map of East Pakistan at its center. The gesture symbolizes their growing nationalist pride. Maya, excited by the flag, drapes it around herself and runs off to find a pole to display it. The mood shifts to one of fervent nationalism, and the household becomes filled with energy and passion for the cause.
Following the cricket match, the days become filled with political unrest. Sohail and Maya, heavily involved in student protests and strikes, return home late every night, discussing the sense of change in the air. However, life in Dhanmondi, where Rehana lives, remains relatively calm, with the exception of occasional visits from Mrs. Chowdhury, who brings gifts for her daughter’s upcoming wedding. One day, Mrs. Chowdhury arrives with velvet boxes containing jewelry, signifying the continuing preparations for her daughter’s wedding.
Despite her initial reluctance, Rehana attends a political rally on March 7th at the racecourse. The grounds are packed with people, and Rehana can see the small figure of Sheikh Mujib in the distance. As he delivers his speech, calling for every home to become a fortress, Rehana feels the weight of the moment. The crowd’s excitement is palpable, and Rehana, swept up in the fervor, finds herself shouting the slogan “Joy Bangla” along with them. Maya looks at her with a proud, encouraging smile, and Rehana is momentarily caught up in the revolutionary excitement, feeling a sense of youthful possibility.
Rehana reflects on the power of the moment and her place within it. As she participates in the rally, she experiences a brief but intense connection to the revolutionary spirit her children embody, even as she remains unsure of her own role in the movement.
She reflects on her physical transformation at the age of thirty-eight. Her body has become more reflective of her life experiences, particularly those tied to raising her children. Rehana’s appearance, once youthful and unmarked by the passage of time, now carries the visible signs of age and motherhood. She has gained weight, which brings with it a sense of comfort and an awareness of her body’s changed shape. This includes a new fullness in her belly, a slight heaviness in her limbs, and a noticeable thickening in her waist and ankles. These changes are accompanied by more subtle signs of aging, such as a deepened line between her nose and chin and a faint shadow above her lip. Rehana sees these physical changes as markers of a woman who has fought through the challenges of raising her children, a process that has left its marks on her body.
In a quiet moment of emotional solidarity, Rehana’s daughter, Maya, leans over and takes her mother’s hand. This act is not just a gesture of comfort, but a sign of unity. Maya holds her hand in a way that reassures Rehana of her strength and connection to her daughter. For a brief moment, Rehana feels a renewed sense of hope. She believes that the political turmoil surrounding Sheikh Mujib’s leadership and the uncertain future of the country will eventually resolve. Rehana envisions a future where Sheikh Mujib becomes Prime Minister, the country stabilizes, and their lives can return to a semblance of normalcy. She envisions a future where she and her children can continue their lives, free from the chaos and uncertainty of the present.
Rehana feels a sense of peace, believing that the political and personal struggles they are facing will eventually pass, and they will resume their ordinary lives. This moment of certainty offers her a fleeting glimpse of hope for the future, grounding her in the belief that everything will return to a place of normalcy.
The chapter opens with a sense of confusion and disconnection in the city as military planes land at the airport. The people, including the characters, struggle to understand what is happening around them, unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation. They later reflect that they should have sensed the impending violence, but they did not.
On the evening of March 25th, Mrs. Chowdhury invites her neighbors to dinner in honor of Lieutenant Sabeer. Despite rumors of a military attack circulating throughout the city, she insists on the gathering, even suggesting that Silvi and Sabeer have a small ceremony to mark their engagement. Rehana, feeling compelled to attend, agrees, and Sohail joins as well, likely to test himself amid the tensions.
Maya, however, is in a darker mood, frustrated by the quietude of the neighborhood as she feels the revolution is imminent. She expresses her desire to be out on the streets, singing revolutionary songs and distributing leaflets.
The group sits down for dinner, and despite the undercurrent of tension in the city, they continue with the evening. Silvi is dressed in a turquoise salwaar-kameez, and Sabeer wears his military uniform. The party, though subdued, goes on, and everyone raises their glasses in a toast, with Rehana sitting next to Sohail. After the toast, Mrs. Chowdhury carves the lamb, and they eat, oblivious to the events unfolding outside. The sound of the outside world, including the fruit dropping from guava trees, does not reach them.
Suddenly, at 10 p.m., the distant sound of gunfire breaks the calm. Tanks begin to fire, and chaos erupts in the city. Mrs. Chowdhury is alarmed, and as panic sets in, Sabeer instructs everyone to stay calm and remain where they are. Mrs. Sengupta insists on leaving with her child, Mithun, but Sabeer and Sohail rush to the roof to investigate the source of the commotion. Mrs. Chowdhury is distraught, clutching her chest in fear, and the others try to understand what is happening, but the gunfire is overwhelming.
As the shelling continues, Rehana is filled with a deep desire to protect her children, but Maya remains transfixed by the window, and Sohail and Sabeer are still on the roof. Maya tries to use the telephone and radio, but both fail to work, leaving them isolated. Meanwhile, from the roof, Sohail and Sabeer witness the horrors of the city, with the fires and destruction in the distance.
Sohail and Sabeer discuss their next steps. Sohail acknowledges the threat of desertion, but Sabeer expresses his uncertainty, revealing the internal conflict he feels as a soldier in the Pakistan Army. Eventually, the two return to the dinner gathering, where the atmosphere is tense and uncertain. Mrs. Chowdhury is still sitting, dazed, while Mrs. Sengupta tends to her child. Maya continues to try to find a radio signal, while the others wait, unable to act, filled with a sense of helplessness.
Mrs. Chowdhury rises from her chair, as though she has just had a sudden realization. She tells Sabeer, in a tense tone, that trouble is coming, and she insists that he must protect her daughter, Silvi. Mrs. Chowdhury worries about the possibility of harm from people or the army. She emphasizes the importance of making sure that Silvi is safe, asking how Sabeer can be certain she will be protected. Sabeer reassures her, but Mrs. Chowdhury remains concerned, suggesting that the only way to ensure Silvi’s safety is for Sabeer to marry her that very night.
Sabeer, confused and reluctant, asks if she is serious. Mrs. Chowdhury explains that she has experienced situations like this before, and the best thing to do is to ensure that all unmarried girls are protected. She questions whether the gate will keep danger out and urges Sabeer to marry Silvi immediately. She further stresses the urgency, claiming that there may be no other time, especially if the Lieutenant does not return soon. She insists that Rehana help by selecting verses from the Holy Book for the ceremony.
As Mrs. Chowdhury leaves to prepare Silvi, Maya mutters under her breath, criticizing Silvi for going along with the idea. Rehana, meanwhile, reaches for Silvi’s Holy Book and asks Sohail to help her retrieve it from the shelf. Sohail expresses his feelings about not loving Silvi anymore, mentioning that he stopped loving her once he learned about the soldier. Rehana remains silent, while Maya challenges Sohail’s stance on violence, calling Silvi weak for succumbing to the pressure. Sohail, however, defends Silvi’s autonomy, stating that women must have the right to make their own choices.
Rehana opens the Holy Book, and soon after, Silvi and Sabeer are seated together on a double sofa. Silvi, looking down at her lap, trembles, but just before Rehana can ask her if she is sure about the marriage, Silvi flashes a smile at her mother, which silences Rehana’s doubts. Silvi then asks Sohail to take a photograph, offering him the camera he had lent her earlier. Sohail, somewhat reluctantly, agrees and takes the photograph, though Rehana wonders what he sees in Silvi’s expression.
The lights suddenly go out, and Rehana is forced to recite the marriage verses from memory. Silvi and Sabeer exchange rings, and Mrs. Chowdhury, eager for a sense of normalcy, insists on having a poem. Sohail, however, protests, but Mrs. Chowdhury presses him, and Rehana tries to redirect the request to Maya, suggesting she sing a ghazal. Maya, however, ignores them, keeping her back turned.
Silvi, under her veil, begins to tremble violently, prompting Mrs. Sengupta to comfort her, saying that she is no more unhappy than any other bride. Mrs. Chowdhury’s insistence on the poem continues, and Sohail eventually recites a verse, which speaks of devotion, heartache, and adoration. As the poem ends, the group remains in Mrs. Chowdhury’s drawing room, listening to the distant sound of machine-gun fire. The night drags on in a surreal silence, with no further movement or conversation between them, leaving the scene in a tense and dreamlike stillness.
At dawn, the sounds of gunfire gradually fade, and the sun begins to rise, casting a soft pink and orange hue across the sky. Dust settles over the trees and rooftops as the quiet of the early morning takes over. Rehana and her family return home to find Mrs. Chowdhury asleep in her chair, her hand resting under her chin. They open the front door to discover Juliet, the dog, pacing around a motionless Romeo. Juliet circles the dog and grunts quietly, but Romeo remains unmoving. Sohail examines Romeo and concludes that the dog must have died from a heart attack.
Back inside their bungalow, Rehana instructs the children to rest, but they all remain in the drawing room, not moving. Later in the afternoon, a truck stops in front of the house, and the silence of the street amplifies every sound. A megaphone crackles to life, demanding that the residents take down their flags, threatening arrest for anyone who does not comply, followed by an insult: “bastard traitors.” In response, Maya rushes to the roof to remove the flag, wrapping it around her shoulders after she finishes. Rehana watches as Juliet barks from Mrs. Chowdhury’s yard.
As they sit and wait for something to happen, Sohail paces around the house, while Maya falls asleep wrapped in the flag. Rehana surveys their food supplies and calculates how long they will last. She estimates three days of rice and chickens, but later revises her estimate to five days after measuring again. The truck returns, announcing the temporary lifting of the curfew from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. the following day, with the warning that anyone found outside after 6 p.m. will be shot on sight. Juliet continues to bark as the truck departs.
When the curfew is lifted, Sohail and Maya leave for the university, and Rehana watches from the window as Lieutenant Sabeer, accompanied by Silvi, says a brief goodbye. She wonders how long it has been since she last slept and considers whether she should feel tired. Before she can decide, Mrs. Sengupta bursts in, informing her of a group of refugees that have arrived. Rehana peeks over the boundary wall into Shona’s garden, where she sees a movement in the grass. Mrs. Sengupta reveals that the refugees, mostly families and a few stray individuals, had just appeared on the street, seeking shelter.
Rehana agrees to let them stay and heads over to Shona’s house with food. She prepares a meal using their limited supplies: spicy chicken curry, korma for the children, cabbage and potato bhaji, fried okra with onions, and a stew made from spinach and pumpkin. After bringing the food to Shona’s, Rehana observes the refugees sitting in silence, sifting through their meager belongings. She becomes restless, wanting to understand what led these people to her doorstep. She decides to go to the university to learn more.
Rehana takes a rickshaw to the university, despite the rickshaw-wallah’s caution against it. As they travel through the city, Rehana notices that everything seems strangely quiet and almost normal, though the New Market area is shut down and boarded up. When they reach the university, the air changes, thick with smoke, and the rickshaw-wallah ties a cloth around his head and suggests that Rehana do the same. They continue through the street, noticing debris and litter scattered across the ground. Rehana briefly spots a pair of unbroken spectacles and a red ribbon on the road but is unable to stop.
As they approach Curzon Hall, the street becomes increasingly filled with rubble, and the crowd grows larger. Rehana is horrified to see a red ribbon leading into a gutter, where a young girl’s body lies. She tries not to look but cannot help feeling the trauma of the sight. The rickshaw continues, and Rehana later reflects on the gruesome scene she witnessed, including piles of corpses, dead rickshaw-pullers, and the destruction of university dormitories.
When Sohail and Maya return, their faces are etched with ash and exhaustion. They slowly recount the events of the night. They reveal that Mujib, the political leader, had been arrested and flown to West Pakistan. The army had launched an attack on the university, destroying dormitories and The Madhu Canteen. Tanks had bulldozed the slums near the Phulbaria rail track and targeted Hindu neighborhoods, where they used jeeps to fire through doorways and homes, killing indiscriminately.
In the evening, Rehana and the children were listening to the radio when an announcement was made. The speaker, identified as Major Zia, proclaimed the independence of Bangladesh. He declared,
“I, Major Zia, provisional Commander-in-Chief of the Bangladesh Liberation Army, hereby proclaim, on behalf of our great national leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the independence of Bangladesh. I also declare we have already formed a sovereign, legal government under Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. I appeal to all nations to mobilize public opinion in their respective countries against the brutal genocide in Bangladesh.”
Upon hearing this, Rehana realized the gravity of the situation: a war had arrived and had already begun. Whatever was going to happen had already been set in motion, and now she and the children would have to live in the shadow of the conflict. In this moment, Rehana wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight, hoping to summon the strength she once had. This act of self-comfort signified her attempt to prepare for the emotional and physical toll the war would impose on her and her family.
The chapter details the shifting dynamics and tensions in Dhaka as the city adjusts to military occupation during the Bangladesh Liberation War. The city gradually settles into an eerie routine under military rule. Soldiers patrol the streets, their grim faces and stiff uniforms marking the new normal. Tanks occupy the roads, and checkpoints are manned by soldiers who aggressively question drivers. This new order replaces the lively public demonstrations, resulting in a haunting silence, broken only by the curfew siren. The city feels ghostly, with the sounds of nature and the heat of the April sun marking the passage of time.
Rumors spread in this quiet environment. Some claim that the army has buried bodies in a mass grave or that prisoners are tortured in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. The deaths of animals in the Mirpur Zoo, including a Bengal tiger, are attributed to their fright. The news, however, is tightly controlled, with the newspapers proclaiming, “Yahya saves Pakistan,” while the city remains a shell of its former self, its people hiding their knowledge and fears.
As the city empties, many who were never truly residents – such as the butchers, tailors, and rickshaw-pullers – silently flee, leaving with their families and bundles. Rehana, reflecting on the situation, counts her blessings. Her children are safe, as are Mrs. Chowdhury and Silvi, although the latter’s situation becomes more complicated as rumors spread of those who have not survived.
Mrs. Akram, who had spent the night with her hands over her ears, is later revealed to have been in hysterics, fearing the end of the world. She had to be restrained by her husband, though she recalls none of it. She visits Rehana two days later, hiding the marks on her wrists with wide bangles, but she is alive. Romeo, however, is dead, and Mrs. Chowdhury has buried him under the tallest coconut tree in her garden.
Rehana reflects on Mrs. Rahman’s narrow escape from death. Mrs. Rahman had been invited to dinner with an old friend whose husband owned a tailoring shop in the old town. At the last minute, she had decided to decline the invitation due to her dread of the choked roads and the memories of the last visit. This decision saved her life when soldiers passed through the area and opened fire on the house. The husband was killed while his wife escaped with a minor injury.
The children, Sohail and Maya, manage to account for their friends. Joy and Aref, anticipating an attack, had barricaded Nilkhet Road and set fire to bottles, only to flee when the tanks crushed their barricades. They managed to escape to Curzon Hall, where the bullets narrowly missed them. However, Sharmeen is still missing. Maya, at first, feels left out of the action and is eager to hear a dramatic story from Sharmeen, but after several days without news, concern starts to grow.
On the fourth day, the Senguptas decide to leave. Rehana finds them preparing to leave, their belongings scattered in the drawing room. Mrs. Sengupta is visibly nervous, and Mr. Sengupta explains that it is unsafe for Hindus to remain in Dhaka. Despite Rehana’s concerns about reports of violence in the villages, Mr. Sengupta dismisses these as rumors and insists they are simply going to their village in Pabna. He assures her that there is no real danger. He becomes defensive when Rehana presses him about the trustworthiness of their village people, sensing her underlying concerns about the situation.
The Senguptas’ departure highlights the growing tension and the fracturing of the social fabric as people are forced to make choices based on their ethnicity and the escalating violence around them. Rehana’s thoughts are drawn to her own past, recalling a time when she had the luxury of retreating from difficult decisions. Now, however, the urgency of the present moment requires her to confront the reality of the situation.
Mrs. Sengupta, visibly concerned, apologizes for leaving Rehana alone and offers her money to help. Though Rehana protests, she reluctantly accepts the money, realizing that she will be without financial support until the Senguptas return. The couple’s attempt to leave in good spirits, despite the tension of the situation, lightens the mood. Mrs. Sengupta waves around the room, apologizing for the mess. Rehana reassures her, saying she and Maya will handle things. As they say their goodbyes, Rehana feels a sting of emotion, as she embraces Mrs. Sengupta and wishes her well.
By mid-April, the situation in Dhaka worsens. The military’s brutal campaign is spreading across the country, leaving destruction in its wake. Villages are burned, and reports of young boys joining the resistance are circulating. The city becomes increasingly dangerous as the army advances.
One day, Joy and Aref arrive at Rehana’s bungalow with a truck filled with crates. Rehana, surprised, asks them about the crates, and they explain that they need her help to store some items. Sohail, having emerged from his room, is similarly curious. The crates contain medicine and supplies, which Joy and Aref explain were taken from PG Hospital. Rehana, not wanting to press further, decides not to ask about how they obtained these supplies. She agrees to store everything, and the boys seem pleased that she understands.
The following day, the boys return with more supplies: powdered milk, rice, dal, cotton wool, and other essentials. Rehana, now with little space left in her house, finds herself walking around piles of stored goods. Her living situation grows increasingly cramped, with dining chairs stacked on tables and medicines taking up all available space. Despite the chaos, Maya finds comfort in the clutter, softly interacting with the supplies.
Amidst the increasing violence and fear, Rehana’s concern for Sharmeen, a girl who has gone missing, lingers. Maya, however, remains silent on the subject, and Rehana feels unable to reach her. Rehana asks about Sharmeen’s mother, who is in Mymensingh, and learns that Sharmeen has not been there. Rehana reflects on Sharmeen’s complicated life, including the fact that Sharmeen’s mother had remarried, and Sharmeen lived in a dormitory. She wonders if she could have been more compassionate toward Sharmeen and regrets not having a warmer relationship with the girl.
Rehana struggles with her relationship with Maya, who has become increasingly distant. Maya’s grief, shaped by the political atmosphere, has hardened her, and Rehana senses that Maya has changed physically, no longer looking young or pretty. Her daughter now wears widow’s white, a sign of her radical transformation. Rehana wonders whether she could have loved Maya better, as the child seems to be consumed by the political turmoil surrounding them.
Despite this, Maya still retains traces of her gentler self. Rehana notices that Maya cares for her long, thick braid and sings songs that soften her features. Although Maya’s politics have shaped much of her behavior, the tenderness in her singing voice reveals a deeper, more innocent side of her, connecting her to the traditional songs her mother taught her. These moments of tenderness provide a fleeting sense of connection between mother and daughter amidst the political and emotional turmoil surrounding them.
Rehana plays the harmonium, her hands delicate and focused on the task at hand. Though she is a devout non-believer, the act of singing feels like a spiritual submission to something greater. This sets the emotional tone for the chapter, where Rehana is deeply affected by her son’s impending departure and the larger political events unfolding.
The narrative then shifts to a visit from Sohail’s friends, Joy, Aref, and a Hindu boy named Partho. They arrive without the truck they had promised, appearing disheveled and on edge. They bring with them a black bag, which causes Rehana to be wary. Sohail is absent, and Joy calls out to him, but Sohail refuses to come. When Rehana steps out to speak with the group, she notes their rough appearance and the tension in the air. Despite her hesitation, she considers inviting them in, but they refuse, staying outside. Their conversation revolves around Sohail, and Aref asks about his well-being, suggesting the possibility of him coming to the window. Rehana tries to downplay the situation, telling them that Sohail is upset and not willing to meet them. The conversation leaves her confused and frustrated about Sohail’s sudden distance from his friends.
Later, at Shona’s house, Rehana and Maya are packing up the last of Mrs. Sengupta’s belongings when Sohail arrives, looking troubled. The two women engage in a conversation about the political situation, with Sohail expressing his concerns about international news coverage and the potential for foreign intervention. Maya presses him about his involvement with Aref, Joy, and Partho, suspecting they are involved in something dangerous. Sohail avoids directly answering her questions, but his nervousness is evident.
The tension escalates when Sohail finally reveals his plans to Rehana the next day. He informs her that he is going to join the resistance, as Bengali regiments have mutinied and there is a call for volunteers. Sohail’s decision is a shock to Rehana, who struggles to understand why her son, a pacifist, would make such a choice. She pleads with him, expressing her fear for his safety and urging him not to go. Sohail, however, insists that he has no choice, stating that it is not war but genocide, and he cannot stand by while others fight.
Rehana’s emotional turmoil is palpable as she tries to reason with him, reminding him that he always has a choice. She holds onto the hope that somehow, Sohail will change his mind. He reassures her with a promise not to leave without telling her, but she is filled with dread at the thought of him leaving in the middle of the night without her knowing.
The next day, Rehana and Sohail travel to the graveyard, where Rehana silently reflects on her thoughts and emotions. She struggles with the idea that Sohail is making the same decision that many young men in Dhaka are making – joining the fight, leaving their families behind. As they arrive at the grave of her late husband, Iqbal, Rehana silently appeals to him, wishing that he could intervene and prevent Sohail from going. She reflects on her own inability to stop him, even as she begs, “Don’t go.” Her emotional plea is a moment of pure desperation, and she hopes that somehow Sohail might find another way to help.
Sohail and Rehana share a silent, poignant moment, as he struggles with his decision to go, his internal battle evident. Rehana feels a sudden exhaustion as she hopes Sohail will change his mind, but he is determined to leave. The weight of his departure is felt deeply by Rehana, as she reflects on how similar he is to her in his approach to decision-making. She wishes she could forbid him from leaving, but she knows she has no power in this situation.
Rehana watches Sohail pack his belongings, noticing the posters on his wall, including those of Mao Tse-Tung, Che Guevara, and Karl Marx. Sohail keeps the details of his departure from her, saying it is better she does not know how he plans to leave. Rehana insists on being there when he goes and asks him to tell his friends Aref and Joy to pick him up. Sohail finally agrees.
As she continues her preparations, Rehana’s thoughts are interrupted by Maya, who hands her a red-wrapped package, asking her to open it later. Rehana feels a deep longing for a brother to send off, someone to love without worry. She then visits Mrs. Chowdhury, hoping for comfort, but Mrs. Chowdhury seems disconnected from the realities of the war, continuing to argue for trivial things, like wanting samosas despite the war’s devastation. Rehana’s concerns about the severity of the situation are dismissed by Mrs. Chowdhury, who reassures her that things will return to normal soon.
Feeling ill, Rehana is offered ice water by Mrs. Chowdhury. Sohail quietly whispers to her that he will leave the next day. Later, Rehana inspects Sohail’s packed bag, feeling both satisfied and nostalgic. She prepares a large feast for his departure, as if sending him off with a full stomach will protect him. However, Maya appears distant, a stark contrast to Rehana’s intense focus on Sohail’s departure.
At dinner, the family eats in silence, with Sohail being the only one to enjoy the meal. Rehana becomes aware of her neglect of Maya, who seems to have grown quiet and withdrawn. After the meal, Sohail prepares to leave. Maya, despite her stoicism, finally speaks to Sohail, urging him to “get the bastards.” She seems broken as he hugs her and leaves. Rehana says her final goodbye, urging Sohail to go with God’s protection.
Once Sohail leaves, Rehana tries to address her feelings with Maya, but her daughter remains elusive. Maya spends her days at the university, leaving early and returning late, consumed by an energy Rehana cannot reach. The house feels empty, and Rehana occupies herself by focusing on practical matters, like supplies and listening to the radio, while the war’s violence intensifies around them.
Rehana is visited by Mrs. Akram and Mrs. Rahman, who express concern over her well-being. Mrs. Akram suggests leaving the city for safety, but Mrs. Rahman resists, believing it is not necessary to flee. The conversation shifts to the question of whether Rehana should leave for Pakistan, but Rehana dismisses the idea, focusing on her children’s future and the need to remain in Bangladesh. Mrs. Rahman, in her defiance, urges everyone to take a stand against the occupation. Rehana, though unsure of what action to take, silently contemplates her next steps.
A few days after the events surrounding Operation Searchlight, Rehana grows increasingly concerned about her daughter, Maya. She decides to confront her, as Maya’s secrecy about her daily activities at the university has begun to trouble Rehana. She borrows Mrs. Chowdhury’s car and instructs the driver to take her to the university campus, unsure of where exactly to find Maya. Rehana feels anxious, suspecting that her daughter might be involved in something dangerous. She wants to uncover the truth and put an end to it, even though she wonders if her fears are unfounded. Regardless, she feels it is better to be certain.
Rehana reflects on her only previous visit to the university, which had occurred when Sohail invited her to the campus to try the famous phuchkas at the canteen. Rehana had bet Sohail that the best phuchkas could be found at Horolika Snacks in Dhanmondi, a place she and her late husband, Iqbal, had visited countless times. Sohail, however, was eager to prove that things had changed, and he persuaded her to try the university’s phuchkas. Despite her skepticism, Rehana eventually agreed, and they bought phuchkas from both Horolika Snacks and the university canteen for comparison. In the end, she chose the university’s phuchkas, signaling that indeed, things had changed.
Now, the university campus, including the canteen, had been destroyed during the massacre on the night of the crackdown. As Rehana’s car enters the university gates, she immediately spots Maya. Maya is in the front row of a group of girls marching, her knees raised higher than the others, and shouting louder. Rehana observes that Maya holds a wooden stick, pretending it is a gun, but she is not timid. Rehana watches with growing concern as the girls continue their mock drill, wearing starched white saris, looking serious. Maya appears to be at the center of this activity, and Rehana’s worries deepen.
After a few moments, Rehana opens the car door and waves at Maya, but her daughter does not notice. However, a boy standing next to Maya sees Rehana and points her out. Maya, irritated, walks over to the car, frowning. She confronts Rehana, accusing her of spying on her. Rehana explains that she was simply worried and wanted to see where Maya was spending her time. Maya, however, reacts sharply, stating that she is trying to contribute to the cause, and she dismisses Rehana’s concern.
The tension escalates as Maya questions her mother’s actions since they returned from Lahore. Maya accuses Rehana of having no real attachment to Bangladesh, of trying to keep her and her brother confined at home, and of not allowing them to take part in the current events. Rehana responds that everything she has done is for her children’s safety, and she demands that Maya get into the car because curfew is approaching. Maya refuses, insisting that she will stay at the university, leading to a physical confrontation. Rehana pulls Maya towards the car, using unexpected strength, while Maya resists and tries to free herself. Rehana insists, saying, “Don’t make a scene,” as she forces her daughter into the car.
On the ride home, they do not speak to each other. Once back at their house, Maya lashes out at her mother, accusing her of failing to protect her brother, Sohail, and of trying to keep Maya under control. Maya’s words cut deeply, especially when she mentions that Rehana’s efforts to protect them have been futile. Rehana tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, expressing sympathy about Sharmeen, but Maya refuses to talk about her. In a burst of anger, Maya accuses Rehana of having no understanding of the pain she and Sohail are going through.
Maya’s anger grows, and she bitterly remarks that Rehana should have left them in Pakistan. In the heat of the argument, Rehana unintentionally strikes Maya across the face. Maya, stunned by the slap, touches her cheek and then looks almost relieved. She responds coldly, saying that Rehana should have left them in Pakistan. Rehana, feeling a mix of regret and anger, stands silent, her jaw trembling, but she does not apologize. Maya stops speaking, and their relationship grows increasingly strained.
With Sohail and the Senguptas absent, and Mrs. Chowdhury and Silvi confined to their house, Rehana begins to feel a sense of isolation. The atmosphere at home becomes heavy, and Maya continues to retreat into silence. Rehana feels disconnected from her daughter, only able to gauge her presence through the faint sounds from her room: the soft click of the ceiling fan, the rustle of bed covers, and the turning of pages. This silent tension persists for two weeks, as the oppressive heat of April drags on.
One day, Maya suddenly announces the need for blankets for the soldiers and the collection of old saris to sew them. Rehana, suddenly struck by an idea, heads to the old steel almirah she has not opened in years. She finds the key hidden behind the lowest shelf in the kitchen, where she keeps emergency supplies like rice and dal. Rehana reflects on how her life’s variable fortunes had taught her to always keep a small reserve of items like rice and ginger.
As she opens the almirah, the familiar sound of scraping metal and the smell of mothballs and silk hit her. Inside are the saris that her late husband, Iqbal, had given her over the years of their marriage. She had preserved them meticulously, arranging them in the order of their presentation, remembering each occasion they marked. The saris reflect Iqbal’s growing prosperity and affection for her, moving from simple cottons to exquisite silks, the last being a blue Benarsi silk given to her shortly before his death.
Rehana studies the saris, recalling the sensations they evoked, their complexity as garments that both concealed and revealed. Although she had not worn any of them for years, she is not sentimental about losing them but laments that she will never have the chance to wear them again. Rehana gathers the saris in her arms and presents them to Maya, suggesting they use them to make blankets for the freedom fighters.
Maya, surprised, responds that she had requested cotton saris and questions the practicality of using expensive silks, which would itch when sewn into blankets. Rehana insists that the silk will keep the soldiers warm, as it is soon to be winter, and sharp words slip from her, revealing an unspoken tension with her daughter. Maya’s reaction is one of quiet resistance; she pleads with her mother not to give the saris away, but Rehana dismisses her concern with a harsh comment about Maya’s preference for white clothes.
Rehana, upset, decides to act on her own. She calls Mrs. Rahman and Mrs. Akram to the bungalow and leads them up to the roof, where she has laid out a jute pati and cushions, along with the saris and her sewing box. The women are surprised by her new venture, and Mrs. Rahman jokes that Rehana is opening a tailoring shop. Rehana explains that, with the war ongoing, she feels the need to prove her involvement, even if it is just by making blankets for refugees. She feels a tear rise but quickly pushes it back, emphasizing her desire to do something to help.
When Mrs. Akram asks about Sohail, Rehana explains that she sent him to Karachi to protect him from the soldiers, as university boys are disappearing. The conversation turns to Rehana’s decision to use the saris for the blankets. Mrs. Rahman gently suggests using old cottons instead, but Rehana stubbornly insists on sacrificing the silk. She justifies her decision by stating that everyone must make sacrifices for the country.
Mrs. Akram expresses concern for Rehana’s relationship with Maya, sensing tension, and Rehana admits that she slapped her daughter during their argument. The two women encourage Rehana to have more patience with Maya, but she responds bitterly, feeling overwhelmed by her responsibilities. She acknowledges that her relationship with Maya has been strained but cannot bring herself to fully admit her faults. Instead, she turns to the women for help in sewing.
On the last day of April, Rehana watches the rain fall, imagining it washing over the suffering refugees fleeing the war. She visualizes the rain falling on her son, Sohail, and his friends, who are far away, trying to survive with youthful defiance and poetry, unaware of the violence surrounding them. The rain, she thinks, symbolizes the sadness of their situation, falling over the land and the people, trying in vain to wash away their grief.
In the month of May, Mrs. Rahman and Mrs. Akram have taken up sewing with great enthusiasm, much like their previous interest in playing cards. They meet every week at the bungalow, bringing along their sewing kits. Mrs. Rahman, determined to support the war effort, secures a constant supply of old saris from her acquaintances and relatives, though she notes that no one is willing to part with their best clothes. Mrs. Akram, who had previously been considered a little spoiled, surprises everyone by stitching the fastest and even suggests adding sackcloth between the saris to make them more durable. She names their group “Project Rooftop,” to which Mrs. Rahman teasingly responds that she had once said they were not good for anything beyond cards. Mrs. Akram denies this remark, claiming it was not something she would say.
Rehana, the narrator, reflects that it has been two months since the war began in March, and the landscape of war is now a familiar one. They are accustomed to seeing soldiers in green uniforms, returning home when the curfew siren sounds, walking past closed shops, and observing empty streets. The hospitals are locked, and the fruit vendors’ baskets remain half full. This new reality, while strange at first, has now become ordinary, and everyone has adjusted to it in their own way.
However, Rehana’s relationship with her daughter, Maya, is strained. Maya remains angry at Rehana, and although Rehana feels the urge to apologize for hitting her, she cannot bring herself to say the words. Every time Maya returns from the university, their silence intensifies, and their interactions are filled with tension. The only time they share something together is when they listen to the radio. They regularly tune in to BBC Bangla in the morning and Voice of America in the afternoon. However, their most anticipated broadcast is the Free Bangla Radio transmission at 4:30 PM, which they know is being broadcast from a secret location in the liberated zone. The broadcast often reports on the refugee crisis, with one million refugees flooding into West Bengal, and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi pledging her support to the freedom fighters in Bangladesh.
In the middle of the night, Sohail returns to Dhaka. Rehana, who had been asleep, senses his presence when he stands at the foot of her bed and calls out, “Ma.” She presses her cheek to his, feeling a mix of relief and loneliness. He smells of petrol and cigarettes, and his clothes are dirty and too big. As she examines him, she realizes that he has changed in ways that are foreign to her, as though others have shaped him during his time away. She recalls his past life with Parveen, and the old wound of their broken relationship resurfaces.
Sohail wakes Maya, and the two siblings share an enthusiastic reunion. Maya is eager to hear about his experiences, particularly about the battlefront. They sit down to a meal of egg curry, fried eggplant, and leftover dal. As Sohail eats, he begins to share his experiences in the freedom-fighter army. He recounts how they took a ferry full of refugees and heard terrible stories about the violence against Hindus. He mentions that the Sengupta family has not returned, and Rehana reassures him that they are fine, though they hardly see them anymore. Sohail then continues, describing how they eventually found a camp of Bengali regiments after a three-day search. The camp was initially temporary but has since grown into a small town with hospitals, barracks, and various military sectors.
Maya and Rehana have been listening to the radio reports about the situation, and Maya asks where Sohail sleeps. Sohail explains that they sleep in tents, which are uncomfortable, and jokes that he will need blankets and a proper plate when he returns. Rehana tries not to show her disappointment that Sohail is planning to return to the front lines, but she cannot help feeling it. She recalls his old love for Elvis Presley and wonders about the strange life he is now living.
Sohail eagerly talks about the unity among the young men fighting together, regardless of their backgrounds. Rehana, still focused on her son’s safety, asks what he plans to do next. Sohail reveals that he is being trained as a guerrilla fighter. Maya, filled with excitement, expresses her belief in the importance of the war effort, but Rehana, concerned for her son, expresses her worry. She leaves the table, muttering about making sweets, as she struggles with the realization that Sohail has fully committed to the cause.
Rehana’s internal conflict deepens as she understands that Sohail’s doubts about becoming a soldier have disappeared, replaced by a brutal devotion to the cause. She begins to mentally prepare herself for the possibility of losing him to the war, but she knows that no amount of preparation can truly ready her for his absence. Her love for him is inescapable, and she wonders if she can bear the shock if he decides to leave her for the nation.
In the early hours of the morning, just after a meal. Sohail, Rehana’s son, addresses her and Maya with a serious request. He motions for them to sit closer and, with a somber tone, reveals the nature of his mission. Sohail explains that some guerrilla operations will take place in Dhaka, and he needs a safe place in the city to store arms and serve as a hideout. His goal is to disrupt the normal functioning of the city and bring international attention to the atrocities occurring in Bangladesh. He states his intention to recruit more men for the guerrilla cause and asks Rehana for a place to shelter the weapons and fighters. Rehana, while feeling conflicted, understands and reluctantly agrees to help, recognizing her son’s readiness to take on such a responsibility, despite the dangerous circumstances.
Sohail immediately sets up Shona, the family house, as the headquarters for the guerrilla operations. Rehana watches as Sohail and his comrades work during the night, digging ditches in the garden to store weapons. They operate covertly, using small torches to illuminate the dark. Rehana’s curiosity leads her to briefly peer into one of the ditches, where she sees rough wooden boxes and something metallic glinting in the sunlight. The boys are focused on preparing Shona for the guerrilla operations, setting up the back rooms to house new recruits. They occasionally come to the bungalow for basic supplies, such as hammers or soap, but they never stay long.
Maya, deeply involved in the operations, spends long hours helping the guerrillas by writing press releases on an old typewriter. Sohail jokes that her typing sounds like a machine gun. Rehana, though worried, continues to maintain the house, following a strict schedule for domestic chores, including cooking, shopping, and organizing medical supplies. Despite her busy routine, Rehana finds little time to reflect on her daughter Sharmeen’s disappearance or Maya’s growing anger, nor does she dwell on the silence of the neighbors, Mrs. Chowdhury and Silvi. Her preoccupation with maintaining the household and hiding the guerrilla activities keeps her occupied.
Rehana faces a challenge when it comes to hiding the operations from her friends, particularly Mrs. Akram and Mrs. Rahman, who are supposed to bring new saris for her to sew. To keep them away from Shona and maintain the secrecy of the guerrilla activities, Rehana decides to make pickles. She enlists the help of the boys to pick sour green mangoes from the tree, a task Maya used to perform when she was younger. Rehana prepares the mangoes with spices and stores them in jars on the roof, hoping the strong smell will deter her friends from entering the house. Rehana reflects on the absurdity of the situation and considers how her sisters would react to her current circumstances.
As Mrs. Akram and Mrs. Rahman are due to arrive the next day, Rehana checks the pickle jars to ensure they are properly settled. While doing so, she hears a commotion at the gate. Expecting to see her friends, she is shocked to see a woman she does not recognize. As the woman opens the gate, Rehana’s heart races. When the woman speaks, Rehana immediately recognizes her voice – Parveen, her long-lost sister-in-law. Parveen, who had been absent for many years, expresses relief at finding Rehana and explains that her husband Faiz has been given an important responsibility in the war effort. She did not want to visit, but felt obligated to see her sister-in-law after all these years. Rehana, still emotionally guarded, is cautious in her response. She wonders what has brought Parveen to Dhaka and what her presence will mean for the family.
As the conversation continues, Rehana reflects on the past. She feels a flood of bitterness as she recalls the ten years that have passed since she last saw Parveen, a time in which Rehana had relinquished her children. Parveen’s presence stirs painful memories for Rehana, who tries to suppress her emotions. Although she does not want to discuss her children, part of her wonders what Parveen’s life with them was like.
Rehana and Parveen finish a meal as dawn approaches. Parveen asks about Rehana’s children, to which Rehana responds that they are well. Parveen then inquires if Rehana still lives in her rented house and whether she has tenants. Rehana confirms that the Senguptas, who are Hindu, are her tenants, which causes Parveen to grimace in disapproval. Rehana, however, brushes off the comment and wonders about the true purpose of Parveen’s visit, sensing that Parveen’s casual demeanor masks an underlying intention. Parveen proceeds to criticize the condition of Rehana’s furniture and suggests they are getting rid of undesirable elements in the nation, referring to Hindus, Communists, and separatists. Rehana’s mind drifts to the guerrilla hideout next door, where her family is preparing for something, though she is still unsure of the full details.
A knock interrupts their conversation, and Mrs. Akram and Mrs. Rahman enter, commenting on the smell of pickles from the rooftop. Rehana quickly introduces them to Parveen, who explains they are in Dhaka to “fix things up” and to work for the army. Rehana nervously hopes that Mrs. Rahman will not press further about the visit. The two women comment on the pickles and suggest they might be sold, but the conversation remains awkward, with Parveen appearing uninterested. After the women leave, Parveen invites Rehana to visit her new house, leaving Rehana feeling as though the entire interaction was surreal.
The following week proceeds with Rehana tending to her daily routine. Sohail, her son, informs her that the operation they had been preparing for is now ready. He reveals that he has recruited a team and that they have received their orders. Rehana, though unaware of the exact plan, listens intently. Sohail explains that the operation involves planting an explosive at the InterContinental Hotel to make a political statement, though he assures her that no one is expected to be hurt. Rehana, though anxious, expresses concern for his safety. Sohail thanks her and invites her to meet his team before they set off on the mission, as they would appreciate her blessings. Rehana feels a mix of pride and worry for her son.
The next morning, before dawn, Rehana crosses the garden and enters Shona, the guerrilla hideout. She brings puris, halwa, and dal as an offering. Upon entering, she is struck by the darkness inside the house, with curtains drawn and minimal light. As her eyes adjust, she sees figures sitting in the shadows, their faces illuminated by cigarette lights. A match is struck, and a hurricane lamp is lit, revealing the faces of the young guerrillas, who greet Rehana casually and without fear. She notices how carefree they seem, despite the dangerous situation they are in. Among them is Joy, who jokingly acknowledges the mess they have made of the house. Rehana inquires about Aref, Joy’s brother, who has been assigned to another mission. Rehana also reflects on how much she misses the old gatherings at Shona with her daughter, Maya. Sohail explains that more donations are coming, and Joy mentions how the muktis will appreciate Rehana’s sewing group contributions, particularly the soft bedding they have made. Sohail introduces Rehana to the guerrilla group’s commanding officer, a former Pakistani Army major, signaling the serious nature of their mission.
Rehana encounters the Major standing in front of a lamp, his broad shoulders and firm grip making him imposing. She offers her hand to greet him, and he thanks her for giving up her house, assuming it was done out of duty. Rehana contemplates whether her actions were motivated by love for her son or by a desire to help the country. The muezzin’s call to prayer interrupts her thoughts, and she excuses herself to pray, mentioning they haven’t had the halwa.
Sohail suggests waiting for her prayers before they eat, and Rehana asks if anyone would like to join her. Sohail informs her that Partho, one of the boys, is Hindu, but someone dismisses this, and Rehana is encouraged to lead the prayer. She hesitates, aware that women usually do not lead, but decides to proceed. She moves to a curtained window, and the boys line up behind her. Maya joins them. Rehana covers her head with her sari and leads the prayer, reciting the Azaan and other sacred verses.
Later, Rehana struggles to sleep. She worries about the boys, who are preparing for a mission, and repeatedly prays for their safety. She hears on the radio about an explosion at the InterContinental Hotel, signaling that resistance forces are gaining ground. Maya expresses joy at the news, waving a flag, but Rehana remains uneasy and prays for comfort.
She is soon alerted by strange noises from the driveway. Sohail and Joy arrive, covered in blood, with the Major, who appears motionless. Rehana realizes the Major is gravely injured. They carry him into the house and lay him on a rose-petal carpet. Sohail and Joy are frantic, and a young doctor is summoned to treat the Major’s injuries. The Major has a splinter of wood lodged in his cheek, and the doctor protests that he lacks the necessary medical supplies. Despite this, Rehana insists he must do his best. The doctor begins treating the Major’s leg, and Rehana assists by cleaning his smaller wounds. Joy keeps a gun pointed at the doctor to ensure he complies.
As the doctor works, Sohail and Joy speak in hushed tones. The doctor proceeds with stitching the Major’s leg, and Rehana continues to help, unaffected by the gruesome injury. Once the treatment is done, Sohail expresses guilt, revealing that he froze during the mission and was unable to fix the timer on the explosive. The Major stepped in, but was caught in the blast. Sohail blames himself for the Major’s injury, but Rehana reassures him, telling him it was not his fault. Sohail expresses deep gratitude for the Major’s sacrifice, and Rehana comforts him as he cries.
The doctor completed his examination of the injured man, informing the group that while he had sutured the wounds, there was a risk of infection, and the leg might still be lost. He recommended medication but cautioned that the situation could worsen. Joy inquired whether they could move the injured man, to which the doctor responded that they could travel a short distance but not much further. Sohail insisted that the man stay there, arguing with Maya, who expressed her objections strongly, stating that the injured man could not remain in their home. Sohail pleaded for Rehana to take him in, but Maya continued to resist, suggesting that Sohail stay and care for the man instead. Sohail explained they could not stay, as they were wanted individuals, but Maya blamed him for the situation. Despite her hesitation, Rehana asked if there was no other place the man could go, but Maya again expressed her fear, questioning whether Rehana wanted another man to die in their house. This comment caused Rehana to wonder if she was referring to her father.
The doctor, Rajesh, confirmed that the man could not be moved and volunteered to stay and ensure the man’s survival. Rehana, feeling relief, turned to Maya, urging her to accept the situation. Rehana reassured her daughter that no one would die, and they would take care of the man who had saved Sohail’s life. Maya reluctantly agreed.
Later, Rehana found herself disoriented in her home, still feeling the aftermath of the night’s events. The room was filled with the remnants of the chaos—a stained carpet, muddy footprints, and broken plaster. The Major, now installed in Mithun’s bedroom, was lying immobile. Rehana observed him in the morning light, noting how his body appeared enormous in sleep. The doctor had left after confirming that the Major’s condition was stable, promising to return the following day with more supplies.
Despite his injuries, the Major’s physical presence seemed imposing to Rehana, who felt a surge of pride for him, as though he were a fallen angel, flawed but still somewhat blessed. Her thoughts turned to hunger, and she craved lychees, leading her to venture out to New Market. She found herself irritated by the presence of soldiers in the market, carrying rifles and laughing loudly. The once familiar and comforting space of New Market now felt alien and dangerous to her, particularly with the increasing division of the city based on loyalties, as Sohail had warned her about the Urdu-speaking Biharis who were suspected collaborators with the army.
As Rehana navigated the market, she found herself in front of her regular butcher, but the atmosphere felt charged with unease. The butcher, though polite, spoke to her in Urdu, and Rehana found herself distanced from him, her own language suddenly feeling like a marker of the enemy. She made a quick transaction, paid for the meat, and left the market with a sense of discomfort, though part of her found some satisfaction in the fear she saw in the butcher’s eyes.
Upon returning home, Rehana found the Major awake but uncomfortable. She tried to attend to him, noticing he needed water and appeared uneasy. She went outside to find Maya, who was absorbed in reading a book and writing in the margins. Rehana reminded her to look after the Major, but Maya responded dismissively, suggesting he was asleep. Rehana, realizing the task of caring for the Major was left to her, asked again, prompting Maya to state that the Major was fighting for their cause. Rehana, observing Maya’s reaction, wondered about her daughter’s internal state, noticing that she no longer seemed to show the panic from the previous night.
Rehana began her day by walking across the garden to deliver a glass of water to the Major, shielding herself from the rain with a plastic sheet. As she observed the Major drinking, she noticed that although he appeared desperate, his lips did not reflect the same urgency. He thanked her with a relieved breath, and Rehana, avoiding direct eye contact, gave him a frank, silent stare.
Later that evening, Joy arrived and immediately asked for a private conversation. He informed Rehana that the Pakistan Army believed the Major was dead, as they had seen the building collapse around him. However, Joy suggested that they could use this to their advantage. He proposed that the Major stay hidden at her house until he recovered, though Rehana had initially expected it would only be for a few days. Joy indicated that it might be safer for the Major to remain there for up to a month. In exchange, he would communicate the Major’s orders through himself, traveling back and forth. Rehana then inquired about Sohail’s safety, as it had become too dangerous for him to visit frequently. Joy suggested that Sohail would mostly be in Agartala and would find another place to stay. Rehana, overwhelmed, agreed to the arrangement with a resigned “Do as you will, beta.”
A few days later, Rehana received a telegram after lunch, signaling Sohail’s imminent return. As she waited anxiously, she could hear Maya typing rapidly on her typewriter. By evening, Sohail arrived, wearing a white kurta and a green hat with a red metal star. He squeezed Rehana’s hand but stared emptily at her. When Maya entered the room and asked him why he was there, Sohail revealed that Sharmeen was at the cantonment hospital in Dhaka. Maya, eager to go there, was then informed that Sharmeen had died. Sohail revealed that Sharmeen had been in the hospital all along, but they had not been able to help her. Maya was furious, questioning why she was not told. She then began to process the news, and Rehana, observing her daughter’s reaction, knew that Maya would always remember learning about Sharmeen’s death at that moment. Sohail further explained that Sharmeen had been pregnant when she died, and Maya was shocked to learn that Sharmeen had never had sex, as she had hated men. Rehana struggled to suppress her emotions, letting a tear fall as Maya demanded to know the names of the soldiers who had raped Sharmeen, particularly Tikka Khan, whom she referred to as “the Butcher of Bengal.” Maya’s reaction was one of intense anguish as she kicked at a tree and stood with her arms raised, seemingly on the brink of swinging from it, before standing still in shock.
That night, Rehana dreamed of Iqbal, her late husband, who had never knocked on the door when he arrived home. In the dream, Rehana waited for him at the door, just as she had every evening when he was alive. She could hear his footsteps approaching, and just as he was about to knock, she would open the door in a smooth, fluid motion. The routine had been a source of anticipation for her. When she woke, she was filled with anger, feeling that Iqbal owed her for the sacrifices she had made, for enduring the struggles alone.
Rehana moved through the house, her face flushed with memory. She noticed that Maya’s bed was empty and, after checking the rest of the house, ventured into the garden. There, she saw a faint light coming from Shona, the Major’s house. She approached the window and saw Maya inside the Major’s room. Maya was quietly circling him and, after sitting at the edge of his bed, revealed the black soles of his feet. Maya proceeded to wash the Major’s feet with a wet cloth, her actions tender yet filled with silent sorrow. Rehana watched silently, her heart heavy, unable to interrupt. As Maya wept, her tears fell on the Major’s military trousers. When Maya looked up and saw Rehana watching from the window, she fled the room, leaving the bucket of water behind, the dark water rippling eerily.
Rehana’s first instinct is to consider sending Maya away, as she feels guilty for thinking it. She wishes to believe that her daughter should remain close to her, or that she should go wherever Maya is going, but Rehana cannot leave her current life. She cannot leave Sohail, Shona, the Major, or Joy. It is not a matter of choice; she feels trapped in her situation, though she sometimes wonders if it is all an accident. Regardless, Rehana knows that Maya must go.
Rehana briefly considers sending Maya to Karachi to stay with her aunts but rejects the idea. She realizes that Maya would be upset by it, and Rehana is uncertain of how her sisters would respond to the news of the war. They have not written to her since the war began, and although Rehana wants to blame the lack of letters on the post, she knows deep down that her sisters are secretly calling her a “gaddar,” a traitor.
The next afternoon, Maya arrives with red, scratched eyes, making it clear that she has already made up her mind. She tells her mother, “I’m going to Calcutta. I’ve arranged it with bhaiya.” Rehana, unsure of how to respond, is overwhelmed with all the things she had been holding back for Maya—words of softness, apologies, and regret that she had not been able to love her daughter as she should have.
Maya misinterprets Rehana’s silence and says, “Please don’t be angry, I don’t want you to be angry.” Rehana quickly reassures her, saying, “Oh, no, I’m not angry, I’m so sorry.”
Maya, trying to hold back tears, says, “I don’t want to leave you alone.” Rehana replies, “It’s all right. You don’t worry about me.”
Maya, with difficulty, says, “I loved her so much!” Her chin trembles, and she struggles to suppress her emotions, pressing her lips together and swallowing. “I have to do something. It’s so unfair.”
Rehana nods, understanding her daughter’s anguish.
Maya falls silent for a while, staring into the distance, before speaking again. “They need people to write the press statements,” she says, her voice more composed. “Sohail knows someone at the headquarters. Maybe I can even go into the liberated areas.”
Rehana expresses concern, telling Maya to be careful and that she will always worry about her. Maya responds, “I’m always worried about you!” Rehana is taken aback by these words, realizing that Maya’s feelings for her are not distant but are burdened by grief and responsibility – the beloved, the disappeared, and her widowed mother.
Rehana embraces Maya, who feels fragile and thin. Instead of repeating her advice to be careful, Rehana finds herself saying, “Write some good stories.”
Throughout June, Tikka Khan’s soldiers moved across the summer plains of Bangladesh. They looted homes, set roofs on fire, and engaged in rampant violence, including murder, rape, and torture. The soldiers believed they were serving Pakistan, Islam, and possibly even the Almighty, as they were convinced their actions were necessary to save these forces from the depravity of the Bengalis. This belief fueled their growing cruelty each day.
The Bengali resistance, led by General Zia, was weak and scattered, with only small victories to celebrate, such as a destroyed bridge, an ambush of an army convoy, and a captured railway station. These victories were cheered on the radio, bringing brief moments of hope to the city’s residents.
After the Major arrived and Maya left for Calcutta, Rehana’s world shrank. She was told to stay at home more often, with everything she needed being brought to her. She could go to the market but only for her own needs, and she was encouraged to visit neighbors and discuss the war, but only vaguely. If asked, she was to say Maya and Sohail were with her sisters in Karachi. Life at Shona grew quiet, with occasional visits from Joy to take care of the Major and the doctor’s intermittent arrivals. Rehana, now alone, felt exposed, and the nights were filled with anxiety, as she imagined footsteps and knocks at the door.
Rehana tried to recall simpler times before the war, when the passing of seasons and small moments like Eid moon-sightings and the smell of ripening mangoes were the most significant events. Yet, her life had never been free from turmoil, with political upheavals and global events like the death of Che Guevara impacting her family. Her children, Sohail and Maya, were deeply affected by the times, with politics and revolution shaping their lives. Rehana oscillated between indulging her children’s passions and keeping them away from the conflict, but she felt an overwhelming sense of unfulfilled promises and need, though she could not determine whether the need was hers or theirs.
With her children gone, Rehana found no desire to reassemble the sewing group or engage in the social routines of the past. She preferred the solitude of her house, finding a quiet sort of pleasure in the rituals she had adopted after her children had left years ago. She cleaned the house meticulously, tended to her garden, and performed the daily chores dictated by the water schedule.
Rehana also visited the graveyard to speak to Iqbal, her late husband, telling him about the Major’s presence and apologizing for harboring a man who could bring trouble. She spoke to Iqbal’s gravestone, unsure of what to say but acknowledging the situation.
Two weeks after the Major’s accident, Joy arrived at Rehana’s door, soaked in sweat and looking distressed. He hesitated before entering, his usual politeness surprising Rehana. He refused food and revealed that he had to go to Agartala for a few days. When Rehana asked about Sohail, Joy reassured her that Sohail was fine and in Agartala. After a moment, Joy told her that his brother, Aref, had died in an ambush during an operation. Joy spoke in a flat, emotionless voice, and Rehana’s initial disbelief was followed by a guilty relief. She pressed Joy for more information, and he explained that Aref had been killed instantly by a gunshot to the chest. Joy then revealed that, in the chaos, they had exchanged shirts—Sohail’s shirt was now on his back, and Aref had worn his.
Rehana felt a surge of frustration, almost attacking the garden she had tended to with such care. She observed the chaos of the garden, its wild colors reflecting the turmoil around her. She found weeds with purple flowers in the corner of the wall dividing her property from Shona’s and struggled to pull them out of the earth. The weeds, with their spiky flowers, seemed to represent the fleeting nature of time, and Rehana tore them from the ground with effort, reflecting the straining tension in her life.
Rehana prayed again, as she did every day, asking God to spare Sohail and wondering why some lives were spared while others were taken. She prayed for Sohail in Agartala and for Maya in Calcutta, recalling that Maya had called a few days after leaving, saying she was fine and happy but not revealing where she was staying.
Rehana had established a strict routine for caring for the Major. The doctor visited every other afternoon to check his stitches and adjust his medication. Rehana brought him food on a tray, leaving him alone to eat. Afterward, she would clean his hand with soap and water before he took a nap. Upon waking, she brought him tea and gave him his evening medication. The Major could barely speak but would always nod his thanks, though he never smiled or waved when she said goodnight. He enjoyed her cooking, finishing his plate except when she served fish, which he tried to hide under rice or mix with pickle. Rehana considered substituting the fish with egg curry or perhaps chicken if she could find any at the market.
She expected the Major’s first words to her might be expressions of gratitude, but instead, he said, “It won’t be long now.” Rehana thought he meant he would soon be well enough to leave Shona, though she found it optimistic given his severely twisted leg. She leaned forward to listen to him and held her hair back to prevent it from falling on his face. His breath smelled of watermelons, and she wondered how that could be, thinking it was because he didn’t smoke.
The next day, the Major asked why Rehana always wore white. She replied, “So that you’ll be convinced I’m a nurse and not just a poor widow.” He smiled, which annoyed her as she felt she had inadvertently begun some light banter with him, but he did not speak again for a week. He would smile briefly when she brought him meals, but otherwise, he remained silent.
Then one day, the Major expressed sympathy for Rehana’s late husband, and she replied that it had been a long time ago. She asked if the Major was married, and he answered, “Yes, I was.” Rehana found this answer strange and noticed a flash of anger in the Major’s expression. She wondered what it would be like to make him angry.
The next day, he asked, “What happened to your husband?” Though it felt like none of his business, Rehana found herself answering, “He had a heart attack,” and when he asked if it was sudden, she confirmed it was. He then asked why she had never remarried. Rehana initially felt it was none of his business but responded that she had children, and she didn’t want to remarry. The Major probed further, asking if she had wanted someone to look after her children. She explained the difficulty of keeping them, mentioning the court case and the money she had needed for bribes and a plane ticket to Lahore. She spoke of the challenges of supporting her sisters in Karachi, and how she had been the one to send them money.
The Major looked around the room, silently asking how she had managed all this. Rehana considered telling him about stealing the money but decided against it, reflecting that telling him might help her release the secret she had kept. She practiced telling him in front of the mirror, imagining the relief of having it no longer weigh on her, though she continued to postpone sharing it.
Their conversations continued, with Rehana often speaking more than intended. One day, she said, “After my husband died, I lost my tongue,” and when the Major asked why, she explained it was because she had no one to share her sorrows with. He nodded in understanding. Later, when she mentioned her late husband’s role as a savior, the Major commented that women always say that. Rehana responded with an explanation of her father’s religious devotion and her husband’s sudden death. She briefly considered discussing her trips to the graveyard, trying to negotiate with her husband’s death, but she felt it was not the right moment to discuss such deep sentiments.
The Major then revealed that his wife had died, but added that they had not been officially married because she was Hindu. Rehana, thinking of her own wedding, assured him that their love counted. The Major inquired about her father, and Rehana recalled her childhood, describing the wealth they once had, with servants, a piano, and numerous cars, though she had never fully experienced this luxury, as her family had become poor by the time she was old enough to understand. Rehana revealed that her mother had died when the family’s money ran out, when she was only three years old.
Rehana had found a chicken at New Market, and from the Major’s reaction, it was as if she had given him a trunk full of gold. He licked his fingers and the plate, then belched quietly into his hand. He asked her about Iqbal again, prompting Rehana to tell him about a trip he had made to London in 1957. She recounted the gifts her husband had brought her: a black wool coat from Harrods, a gold Rolex watch, and a box of Quality Street chocolates. She described how Maya had eaten her chocolates in one sitting and spent the next day suffering. Sohail had given up his share to her, keeping only one caramel chocolate that eventually became infested with ants. She also mentioned that the Rolex was eventually pawned but was a beautiful gift. After finishing, she began clearing the dinner plates.
The Major then asked if there had been any suitors after her husband’s death, unknowingly pushing closer to the truth about Shona. Rehana fixed her gaze on his torn lip, but instead of reaching for it, she smoothed the bed sheet, noting that it needed changing.
The following day, there were sharp raps at the door, and Rehana’s heart raced. It could have been anything: news about Sohail or Maya, or perhaps an unwanted visitor. A woman entered, carrying a silver tray with a blue porcelain bowl covered by a white napkin embroidered with golden tulips. The napkin had a familiar fragrance of raisins. The woman introduced herself as Joy’s mother, Mrs. Bashir. She had a plump face with dimples and asked Rehana to give the bowl to Joy. Rehana, unsure of the woman’s intentions and the truth of her words, politely offered her tea, which was declined.
Mrs. Bashir, seeming nervous, repeated her request for Rehana to give the bowl to Joy, implying that it was his favorite dish. Rehana felt conflicted, as she was unsure if the woman knew that her son, Aref, was dead. Despite her suspicions, Rehana lied and said she did not know where Joy was. Mrs. Bashir insisted that someone, perhaps Sohail, could deliver it. Rehana again clarified that Sohail was in Karachi, with his aunts, before sending Mrs. Bashir away. The woman, still persistent, urged Rehana to take the tray, and even accused her of lying. With tears falling from her eyes, Mrs. Bashir finally left, leaving Rehana standing in the doorway, reciting the morag polao recipe to herself.
The visit left Rehana unsettled. Later, after finishing her Maghrib prayer, she went to see the Major, feeling exposed without the usual distractions. She told him about Mrs. Bashir’s visit, explaining that she had sent the woman away. The Major, now examining his scar in a small mirror, nodded and affirmed that Rehana had done the right thing. When Rehana mentioned that Joy’s mother did not know her son was dead, the Major explained that such difficult things must sometimes be done.
Rehana, thinking of the war and her identity as a mother, admitted she was unsure if she was a nationalist. The Major responded that her presence in Dhaka proved her nationalism. He shared his own reasons for joining the army, explaining it was to escape memories of his village. Rehana, in turn, reflected that it was precisely because of her memories that she had stayed.
By the end of June, three things occurred: Joy returned from Agartala, Dr. Rajesh brought bad news, and Rehana gave the Major a gramophone. Rehana had noticed the Major’s despondency and decided to offer the gramophone as a gesture of kindness. She cleaned it, found some records, and polished the wood with olive oil. The Major’s smile widened as he thanked her, moved by the gesture. Over the next week, he played the records repeatedly.
One day, Rehana heard new music coming from his room. At first, it was familiar: Bengali folk songs with nationalist lyrics. Then, she heard a woman’s voice that was unlike anything she had heard before. She stood at the door, listening to the hauntingly sorrowful song, trying to understand the words, “I loves you, Porgee.” The voice seemed to fill the room with melancholy, like the changing weather, and Rehana felt as if it traveled across the house, affecting her deeply.
Rehana gathers the courage to enter the Major’s room, feeling slightly out of breath, which she attributes to her fast walking and carrying a heavy tray. She places the tray down in front of him more forcefully than intended. The Major mentions that the music playing is by Nina Simone, and Rehana reflects on the name, thinking it sounds like a Bengali name. The Major then asks if she likes the music, to which Rehana replies that it reminds her of her father. She describes a memory of a party where her father danced, drank champagne, and enjoyed loud, cheerful music, contrasting it with the current music by Nina Simone. The Major observes that Nina Simone’s music is unique, and Rehana, while noticing the scattered record sleeves near his bed, asks where he obtained the music. She lies, saying she does not like it. He asks her again what she likes, and after some hesitation, Rehana, surprised by the question, admits she likes her garden’s yellow roses, making dimer halwa, and the cinema, though she confesses she actually loves the cinema.
Later, Joy arrives with a projector, a gift he acquired from the looted Naz Cinema, where the owner, a Hindu, was killed. Rehana initially mistakes the projector for a weapon, but Joy reveals it is a projector and hints that it works. Despite her disapproval of the theft, Rehana becomes excited as she recalls her favorite films. She is especially thrilled when she sees that Joy has brought a film she loves, Mughal-e-Azam. Joy leaves the room, and Rehana starts the film with the Major. As the film plays, she begins to explain the plot, but the Major interrupts her by placing a finger on her arm, signaling he understands the story. Rehana continues describing the film’s central love story, and as the character Anarkali appears on screen, Rehana’s emotional reaction intensifies. She whispers to the Major about the complexities of the love story, and the Major asks her to be quiet so he can focus on the film.
The scene continues with Rehana discussing the consequences for the lovers in the story, and the Major quietly agrees with her assessment of the film. Rehana then expresses that Joy shouldn’t have stolen the projector, but the Major suggests that she would have done the same if given the chance. As the film progresses, the room is filled with the buzz of the projector, and Rehana feels the atmosphere shifting. She senses this might be the right moment to reveal something to the Major, and she prepares herself to speak. The Major remains silent, seemingly aware of her intention to share something important.
After the children were taken away, Rehana reflects on her sense of loss and guilt. She admits to feeling as though they were better off with the woman who took them, as she lacked the means to care for them, even failing to pay off the judge. She confesses to feeling like a coward for allowing Faiz to take them. Rehana believes she will never forgive herself for her decision.
She tells the Major that, after the children’s departure, she shut herself off from the world. She dismissed her servants, unable to afford them, and isolated herself, though sometimes Mrs. Chowdhury’s daughter would visit. Rehana explains that while she appreciated the visits, they reminded her too much of the children, so she would send the girl away. Rehana acknowledges that she acted cruelly, though she claims the girl has since forgotten about it.
Rehana hesitates before mentioning Sohail and Silvi but eventually continues her story. One day, Mrs. Chowdhury, who had visited Rehana while she was sleeping in Iqbal’s coat, suggested that Rehana should borrow money from the bank and build a house on the property. Rehana remembers how she and Iqbal had once dreamed of constructing a larger home, but after Iqbal’s death, she had abandoned the idea. Mrs. Chowdhury recommended mortgaging the land to make it happen.
Rehana shares her frustration that the banks rejected her loan applications due to her lack of a male guarantor. Mrs. Chowdhury then introduced her to Mr. Qureishi, an old friend of her brother, who had agreed to meet with Rehana. Rehana went to the bank in Motijheel to meet him, but Mr. Qureishi turned out to be a fraud. He tried to take advantage of her, making her feel uncomfortable and unsafe. Rehana, embarrassed and ashamed, blames herself for going alone.
After the failed loan attempt, Mrs. Chowdhury suggested that Rehana should find a husband. Rehana admits to feeling lost and sleepwalking through her life, seeking someone to guide her. She recalls that the only significant decision she had ever made was to marry Iqbal. Mrs. Chowdhury recommended T. Ali, a wealthy, blind man who had recently moved into the neighborhood. Rehana notes that T. Ali was much older than her and had recently lost his wife. Though she was hesitant, Rehana listened to Mrs. Chowdhury’s suggestion.
Rehana describes the first dinner meeting with T. Ali, where he remained silent. Mrs. Chowdhury believed he was interested, but Rehana was unsure. T. Ali later indicated that he would consider remarrying, but only if he could keep a portrait of his deceased wife in the drawing room. Rehana, curious, agreed to visit his house to see the portrait. She also thought about asking him for the money to bribe the judge for the children’s return.
Upon visiting T. Ali’s house, Rehana found it built in a traditional style with a large central courtyard. She recalls her initial concern when she saw him sitting in the drawing room, seemingly in distress, but then he revealed that he was simply holding the portrait of his late wife, Rose. The portrait showed a young, pale woman dressed in an old-fashioned dress, and T. Ali lovingly spoke of her, calling her “My Rose.” He described how Rose had been devoted to him during his illness and had prayed for him not to die before they could have children.
As T. Ali continued, Rehana noticed his growing emotional distress. He explained that despite recovering from tuberculosis, Rose died soon after, leaving him heartbroken. He spoke of her with reverence, calling her a remarkable woman. T. Ali then invited Rehana to see more of the house and led her down a dimly lit corridor to another room, where he showed her the space just as it had been left by his late wife. Rehana, moved by the scene, followed him, sensing a new level of intimacy and understanding between them.
T. Ali moved confidently through the room, appearing to navigate it with familiarity despite his blindness. He pointed out objects with ease, as if his blindness did not apply in this space. In a far corner stood an upright piano with its lid raised. A pink dress was draped over a chair beside it. T. Ali touched the dress and identified it as the last garment his wife had worn. The room also contained a dressing table with a faded velvet seat and rusted metal bolts. On the table were a silver-handled brush, a jewellery box, and a powder plate with a puff resting face down, poised for use.
Rehana asked if he played the piano. T. Ali responded that he did not. She noticed that the sheet music on the piano bore the title The Well-tempered Clavier, written in a flowing script. Rehana commented that it was pretty, unsure of what else to say. The atmosphere of the room was stifling and oppressive. It made her feel compelled to whisper and to apply makeup. She looked into the mirror, observing the heat in her cheeks and the plainness of her face, along with the stiff white dress she wore. She visualized Mrs. T. Ali- elegant, dressed in satin, with pale lips and floating crimplene – flashing into her mind. Rehana briefly imagined herself living in this frozen, dusty space. She forced herself not to think of her home, her lemon tree, or the buzzing jasmine. She resigned herself to what had to be done. It was not love, but it was also not unbearable.
She picked up the hairbrush, revealing a clean, polished surface beneath it. As she placed it back, the brush struck the plate of powder. T. Ali, startled, turned to face her and told her not to touch it. He reached for the brush, colliding with her elbow and running his hand along her arm to locate it. Rehana recoiled from the intimacy of the moment but kept her grip on the handle. They struggled briefly. The brush slipped from her hand while T. Ali was pulling in the opposite direction. It flew across the room and struck the mirror.
Initially, the mirror did not break. Then a swirl of cracks appeared and spread across its surface. The pieces fell first slowly, then in a sudden, violent cascade. T. Ali hurled himself at the mirror. He screamed at Rehana, calling her a stupid girl and began to search frantically through the shards of glass. A bead of spit formed on his lip as he shouted. Rehana apologized, insisting she had not meant to upset him. T. Ali accused her of ruining everything and told her to leave. He cried and repeated his command. Rehana attempted to pull his hands away from the broken glass. At that moment, she noticed the jewellery box lying open in the debris. She picked it up without thinking and closed it quietly. She held it under her arm, her heart racing, convinced that he could sense what she had done.
T. Ali remained still, murmuring to himself. He asked why she had not left yet and pleaded for peace. Rehana exited the room, moved swiftly through the house, and escaped into the street’s darkness. She returned home, climbed into bed, and alternated between sobbing and cheering.
Later, in a dark setting where faces were not visible, the Major accused her of stealing. She admitted that she had stolen – from a blind man and from his deceased wife. The Major, initially serious, seemed to choke on emotion, but then unexpectedly began to laugh. He slapped his knee, swallowed, and tried to speak but failed. He continued laughing, telling her he thought she had murdered someone. Rehana scolded him for finding amusement in what she had just confessed. He insisted that it was not funny, though he continued to snort and laugh. Rehana turned away, upset but also uncertain whether her own feelings were sorrowful or humorous. She left him in the cinema’s afterglow, laughing with his head tilted back as if he had just received a reward.
The weather was in transition. It was still July, a month marked by unease and confusion, in contrast to the intense contradictions of August. In August, mornings were hot and airless, people were irritable, and the atmosphere was heavy and stifling. City dwellers struggled with the heat, debating whether to move or stay still, while women and men fanned themselves. Then, suddenly, rain would arrive, accompanied by thunder and lightning, providing momentary relief. A boy, an old man, or even a dog would often anticipate the first drop of rain with hope. However, none of this had happened yet, as it was only July, a preparatory month.
On such an in-between day, a wail came from Number 12. A woman was screaming for ice water for her head. Rehana arrived to find Mrs Chowdhury lying on her bed with a wet compress. Silvi was fanning her mother’s face. The ceiling fan was spinning violently. Mrs Chowdhury, overwhelmed by heat, demanded a thermometer. Silvi gave the fan to Rehana and went to get the thermometer.
As Rehana fanned Mrs Chowdhury, she took in the details of the room, filled with antique furniture and family heirlooms. A gold chabir gocha holding keys was tucked into Mrs Chowdhury’s sari. These keys belonged to various parts of the house, including the jewellery safe and the ice-box room. The rest of the house was like a museum, cluttered with relics and symbols of a once-prosperous life, waiting for the return of Mrs Chowdhury’s long-lost husband.
Silvi returned and placed the thermometer in her mother’s mouth. Then she turned to Rehana and calmly said that Sabeer had been captured. Mrs Chowdhury tried to speak but was told to wait by Silvi. The thermometer read no fever. Mrs Chowdhury lamented her daughter’s fate and criticized her for marrying a military officer. Silvi began to explain that Sabeer’s regiment had been fighting the Pakistani Army in Mymensingh, but her mother interrupted with more complaints. She demanded the thermometer be washed and checked again.
As Silvi turned to leave, Rehana noticed that her head was covered with a dupatta. At first, Rehana assumed she was preparing for prayer, but it was still too early. Silvi returned and stated that everything was God’s will. Mrs Chowdhury disagreed and criticized Silvi for her recent religious devotion, calling it foolishness. She blamed Sabeer for joining the army and called him a fool. Rehana tried to offer hope, but Mrs Chowdhury ignored her.
Rehana began tending to her again with the compress. Mrs Chowdhury said they would not have even known about Sabeer’s capture if not for a letter from one of his soldier friends. Silvi did not retrieve the letter when asked. She continued massaging her mother’s foot. Mrs Chowdhury sighed, saying there was nothing to be done and expressing confusion as to why she had even called Rehana. She turned on her side and fell asleep. Silvi thanked Rehana quietly. Rehana promised to bring food later. She felt queasy, unsettled by the news and by Silvi’s calm demeanor.
Later, after lunch, Silvi arrived at Rehana’s door carrying a cloth shopping bag. She appeared flustered and overheated, wearing a conservative salwaar-kameez and a tightly wrapped dupatta. She said her mother was asleep and unwrapped her head. Rehana offered her a glass of water, which Silvi drank in one gulp. She exclaimed, “Sobhan Allah,” and began speaking intensely about her religious transformation.
Silvi spoke as if in mid-conversation. She explained her belief that God is omnipresent and that human suffering is an illusion. Her words were filled with conviction. She reminded Rehana that it was she, not her mother, who had taught her to pray. Rehana nodded, remembering Silvi’s youthful hands lifted in prayer. Silvi said she begged for forgiveness every day.
Rehana asked what she could possibly need to atone for. Silvi appeared emotionally stripped down, her cheeks flushed, and her expression vulnerable but intense. Rehana reflected on Silvi’s difficult past: the absence of her father, the pressure of being a girl, and the indifferent love from her mother. She had always sensed guilt in Silvi that mirrored her own. But now Silvi seemed fierce and committed.
Silvi clutched her bag, trying to speak. She finally explained that she wanted Rehana to witness her giving up the contents of the bag. She would have burned them but felt compelled to have someone see her act of renunciation. She chose Rehana to witness it, even though she acknowledged that God’s witnessing should have been enough.
Rehana expressed sorrow for Sabeer and asked if the news was certain. Silvi confirmed it. Rehana asked how she knew. Silvi replied, “Sohail,” implying his involvement. Rehana reacted with surprise, asking if Silvi had seen him. Silvi said no, because she was now in pordah and could not appear before strangers.
Rehana was struck by how drastically Silvi had changed. This was not the religion she recognized. Rehana herself prayed daily and had relied on prayer for comfort after her husband Iqbal died. Her concept of God was one of solace, not punishment. She did not pray for miracles or absolution but for strength. She felt deserving of the peace her faith gave her, even as she asked little in return.
Silvi took out a square packet from her bag. It was tied with a deep red silk ribbon. As she untied the knot, several flattened flower petals fell out, their edges brown and brittle. Inside the package was a stack of folded papers in various shapes and sizes. Some were lined like notebook pages, others were plain, all written in a small but confident hand. Rehana recognized English, Bengali, and a few words in Urdu, and immediately understood that they were from Sohail.
Silvi confirmed it. Rehana remained silent. Silvi explained that she had considered burning the letters but thought perhaps Rehana would want them in case something happened to Sohail. Rehana asked, “In case of what?” Silvi replied, “In case something happens to him,” and added that she could not keep the letters any longer. Rehana questioned her certainty. Although Silvi’s face showed no visible struggle, she held tightly to the stack. She finally insisted she was sure. She said the letters only contained poetry and thought Rehana might want them.
Rehana agreed to keep them. Silvi still clutched the letters, repeating her intention to burn them. After a pause, Silvi picked up the petals and carefully rewrapped the bundle, smoothing the silk tightly over the letters. When she handed over the package, Rehana felt a foreboding sense, as if the letters were a token of loss, as though her son had already died. She promised herself she would not open them.
Trying to shift the conversation, Rehana expressed sorrow about Sabeer. She silently gave thanks that her own son was alive. She asked if Sohail had told Silvi about Sabeer and confirmed to herself again that Sohail was alive. Silvi explained that Sohail had visited her house. She had told him she was in purdah, but he insisted on speaking to her. She opened the window and stayed behind the curtain. Sohail told her that Sabeer had been captured and was being held somewhere. He promised to find Sabeer and bring him back. Rehana thought to herself that her son was foolish and wondered how much Silvi knew.
Rehana went directly to the Major and demanded to see Sohail. She looked at his broken leg and asked if he knew Sohail was in Dhaka. Without waiting for an answer, she accused him of withholding this information. He said it was too risky. Rehana insisted, reminding him of her care for him and saying it was time he did something for her. The Major hesitated, and Rehana ignored her guilt at pressing him.
Three days later, she received instructions. She was to leave in the morning with Mrs. Chowdhury’s driver and tell him to take her to New Market. On the way, she would complain about her errands, such as the tailor mismatching her petticoat and the difficulty of finding mutton bones to cook haleem. At New Market, she would get out and ask the driver to return in two hours. She would then go to the fabric section and enter a petticoat shop named Miss Pretty. She was to ask for a green petticoat the color of a tia-pakhi feather. The shopkeeper would hand her a package containing the petticoat and a kilo of mutton bones, then lead her to Sohail’s hideout.
The petticoat man brought her to a deteriorating apartment block in Nilkhet. He pointed to a four-storey building and told her to climb to the top floor. He left her with the words, “Khoda Hafez, Joy Bangla.” The building, once painted yellow, was now decaying. Moss streaked the walls, the paint was peeling, and the remaining color varied between orange and coffee shades. The verandas were cluttered with wet clothes, including men’s underwear, a bra, and a child’s nightdress. Rehana felt a pang of longing for the traditional family unit: man, woman, and child. She considered this the formula for happiness and felt that other arrangements were inadequate in comparison.
As she neared the building, the smell of shutki (dried fish) overwhelmed her. Though many considered it a delicacy, she had never been able to tolerate it. She passed another clothesline with small fish drying in the sun. The odor followed her up the stairs to the flat where she had been told her son would be. She knocked on the door, impatient.
Sohail greeted her with “Ammi,” using the Urdu word for mother, a term from their past. Rehana responded, calling him her poor Sohail. She felt immense relief upon seeing him. All her worries – the war, the Major, Silvi – seemed distant. She pushed him back and studied his face, seeing the familiar earnest expression. He repeated “Ammi.” She recognized in his voice the boy he had once been, not meant for war. She was always checking to make sure he was still the same.
Sohail informs Rehana about Sabeer. She hesitates before responding, taking in the cramped and dimly lit room where Sohail is staying. The bed dominates the space, and the only light is a weak bulb hanging from the ceiling. Rehana recalls the risk Sohail is taking and confronts him about telling Silvi. She is upset that he confided in Silvi, knowing she might discover more about his involvement with the guerrillas and their operations, including Shona.
Sohail reveals that Silvi has always known and that he had continued to see her even after her marriage. Rehana struggles to control her emotions as she questions him repeatedly, confirming that he went to visit Mrs Chowdhury several times. Sohail insists he had to see her, to make sure she was all right. Rehana is deeply hurt and cannot believe he would do such a thing.
Sohail then explains that Silvi has changed. When he visited her after some time apart, she told him they had sinned and would be punished by God. Rehana presses for details, including how many times he visited her, but Sohail evades the question. Frustrated, Rehana begins pacing the room and starts folding his clothes: two shirts, three vests, one kurta, one pyjama, two pairs of trousers, one lungi, and one pair of socks.
Sohail says he told Silvi the truth because he hoped she would trust him again. Rehana demands a promise that he will never contact her again, but Sohail refuses, saying he needs more time. Rehana tells him Silvi wants it to end. Sohail disagrees, believing Silvi does not mean what she says. Rehana tells him that Silvi returned his letters. He is shocked and accuses her of lying. Rehana insists she has them at home and admits to reading only a little of the letters. In truth, she did not read them, but she recognizes the poetic references he used – Rumi and Amir Khusro – and imagines what kind of love letters she herself might have written.
Seeing a chance to end the matter, Rehana tells Sohail that the Major says there is nothing to be done and urges Sohail to keep quiet. Sohail is surprised that she told the Major. Rehana explains that she needed someone to confide in and is eager to return to the Major to discuss everything – the love for her son, the filthy apartment, the girl who has become a burden.
Rehana tries to end the conversation by saying there is no solution and that they must move on. She even feels a momentary relief that Sabeer was captured, recalling how everything began when he first appeared in her drawing room with Mrs Chowdhury.
Sohail interrupts with urgency, insisting there is something Rehana can do. She is confused until he explains that Sabeer is in jail somewhere in the city, and she might be able to help. As dusk falls, Sohail kneels before her, pleading. Rehana is horrified, realizing that he wants her to offer herself in Sabeer’s place, to suffer the torture instead of him. Sohail explains that his uncle Faiz has influence in the army and could help secure Sabeer’s release.
Rehana is shocked and asks if Sohail expects her to beg Faiz for help. Sohail confirms this is the only way Silvi might trust him again. Rehana is appalled that he would send her to beg. Sohail has thought out a strategy: she can say that Mrs Chowdhury begged her and that she is fond of Silvi. He begs her to do it for him, claiming it is the only thing he cares about.
Rehana questions his priorities, asking about the war, the country, and the refugees. She asks whether he truly believes Silvi will love him again if he brings Sabeer back. Sohail answers yes, believing Silvi will understand his commitment.
Rehana accuses him of abandoning the cause and wasting time obsessing over Silvi. Sohail, overwhelmed, recounts the moment when Aref died in his presence and reflects on the chaos of their world. He admits he is filled with violent and painful thoughts and that he cannot make sense of anything anymore, except for his longing for Silvi. He pleads again for Rehana’s help.
Rehana finally tells him to stop begging. Sohail breaks down, weeping, and admits that he has loved Silvi all his life. Rehana agrees to help. Sohail is surprised and asks if she really means it. She responds that she is as much a slave to him as he is to Silvi.
They sit in silence for a moment. Rehana hands him a rag, and he wipes his face. Then he jokingly refers to the room as his palace. Rehana responds sarcastically, criticizing the condition of the place. Sohail tells her he has been teasing Joy about their living arrangements. Rehana offers to bring him food or clothes, but he refuses, saying it is too dangerous.
Rehana, exasperated, reminds him of the danger she already faces at home, referencing the explosives hidden beneath her rosebushes. She is incredulous that Sohail is concerned about her safety now.
Sohail embraces his mother with his long arms and whispers repeatedly, thanking her and telling her that she is saving his life. In response, Rehana thinks to herself that his life is her life. She then asks him whether he will stay for long. Sohail replies that he will not. He says he will return across the border as soon as Sabeer is released. Rehana expresses doubt, stating that there is no guarantee that Faiz will release Sabeer, or even that he is capable of doing so. Sohail insists that Faiz can. He says he knows Faiz can do it and tells Rehana that she only has to convince him.
Rehana returned home and immediately took a bath to remove the smell of fish from her skin. Afterward, she changed her sari and began preparing rice for dinner. As dusk settled, casting a purple light over Shona and the bungalow, she proceeded to the Major’s room.
The record player in the room was off, and the Major sat silently with his hands folded in his lap. He had shaved and looked clean. He sat upright, staring at a wall that displayed only a garlanded photograph of Mrs Sengupta’s parents. He initiated a conversation, asking if Rehana had traveled far and if she had just returned. When she answered that she had bathed, he questioned her further. Rehana responded with irritation, noting his inquisitiveness. Although he clearly wanted to know what had happened during her trip, she found it difficult to articulate her experience and was frustrated.
Rehana had seen Sohail and realized he was not part of any special task force. He was being used for his physical strength like any other soldier. This disillusioned her. She then told the Major that Sohail believed she could get Sabeer out of jail. When the Major asked how, she explained that her husband’s brother had a connection in the army.
The Major’s expression turned cold. Rehana accidentally revealed that Sohail was in love with Sabeer’s wife. The Major remained silent, which made Rehana feel oddly grateful. She tried to regain control by instructing him to move so she could change the bedsheet. He asked if she had agreed to help. She confirmed. When he offered to accompany her, she responded harshly, pointing out that he was too ill to walk to the gate. He warned her that she might get caught. Rehana tried to rationalize her safety, claiming her brother-in-law would not turn her in and that she could pretend to be visiting out of concern. The Major pressed further, asking what she would say if questioned about her political loyalties. She responded that she would say whatever was necessary.
The Major insisted that she should not take the risk. Rehana, feeling defensive and emotional, replied that he did not have children. She was overwhelmed by the mixture of soap, hair oil, and talcum powder on her body. The ceiling fan in the room was off. Rehana wiped the sweat from her face and suggested he play a record. The Major restated that her plan was terrible. She informed him that she had already sent a message to Parveen and that they were expecting her for lunch on Friday.
That night, as she watched a mosquito outside her net, Rehana resolved not to tell Iqbal about her plan. She feared that if she discussed it with him, she might change her mind. She knew the plan was risky and likely to fail. She considered that Sabeer would not have done the same for her son. She blamed Silvi for the entire situation and decided against visiting Iqbal.
The next day, a black Mercedes-Benz arrived to pick her up. The driver, dressed in a white shirt and black tie, got out of the car as Rehana locked her gate. He stood formally by the car, extinguished his cigarette, and saluted her. He introduced himself as Quasem, a driver sent to take her to the Haque residence. Rehana could only manage a quiet affirmation.
Inside the large, kerosene-scented car, Rehana sat uncomfortably on the slippery leather seat as they sped off. She had dressed plainly in a starched grey organza sari that made her appear thick-waisted. She had styled her hair into a severe bun and wore no makeup. She wanted Parveen to look more beautiful by comparison.
The car traveled through Mirpur Road, Kolabagan, and past the Second Capital fields and the airport. As the streets became unfamiliar, Rehana grew anxious, thinking about the torture centers Sohail had described. When she asked where they were going, the driver assured her they would arrive soon. After crossing railroad tracks, the car stopped at a checkpoint where a soldier demanded to know the passenger’s identity. Quasem responded rudely, citing the license plate as proof of their credentials. The soldier eventually allowed them to pass.
They reached Gulshan, where Faiz and Parveen lived. The area was more remote and spacious than Dhanmondi. Their house was hidden behind a tall gate and brick walls. A darwaan opened the gate, and they entered the driveway leading to a large front door.
Rehana rang the doorbell, which played a mechanical bird sound. After a moment, Parveen opened the door with a wide smile. She wore a bright yellow chiffon sari with a pearl necklace and had draped part of her sari over her head, resembling a Western-style headdress. Rehana wondered if this was now a new standard in Dhaka. Parveen greeted her warmly and led her inside.
As they walked through a gleaming white corridor, Parveen began a rapid monologue. She expressed her happiness at seeing Rehana, mentioned that she had been meaning to call, and questioned Rehana’s decision to send her children to Karachi. She claimed they would have been safe due to Faiz’s influence and added that the political situation would pass quickly. She called out for tea, specifying English tea and a particular kind of biscuit.
Abdul, the old servant, appeared in an ill-fitting suit and rolled-up trousers. Parveen told him to bring the tea and the correct biscuits. She led Rehana into a sunlit sitting room with a view of a lush garden outside, where Rehana sat in a large, deep armchair.
Parveen expresses satisfaction with Rehana’s reaction to the house, remarking that the garden is beautiful and peaceful despite being far from town. She mentions the recent construction of the house and notes that they are still settling in. Rehana observes the sparse furnishings, the smell of fresh paint, and the bluish tinge of the walls. She comments on the spaciousness, and the conversation shifts to Sohail.
Parveen inquires about Sohail’s whereabouts. Rehana, prepared with a rehearsed explanation, claims he is staying with a schoolfriend from Shaheen School. Parveen reminisces about Sohail’s popularity and transformation from a quiet boy to someone known for speeches and poetry. Rehana cautiously acknowledges Sohail’s intellectual development and his public speaking, mentioning some provocative titles of his speeches. Parveen attempts to recall a Ghalib poem that Sohail had recited and recites it clumsily. Rehana compliments her voice, prompting Parveen to boast about her acting training.
Parveen then asks about Maya. Rehana, sticking to her prepared story, says that Maya is in Calcutta visiting relatives on her father’s side. When Parveen assumes Maya was sent to Karachi, Rehana awkwardly attributes the choice to distance and financial concerns, which Parveen immediately latches onto. Rehana tries to change the subject, but Parveen interrupts to summon Abdul for tea.
Abdul enters quietly and sets the tea tray down on the brass table. Parveen instructs him to pour the tea while offering Rehana a tin of biscuits. Rehana eats a biscuit and notices Parveen’s comment about small luxuries now being possible due to Faiz’s position. Rehana senses that in this household, the war will only be referred to in euphemistic terms like “troubled times.”
Faiz enters dramatically, greeting Rehana with enthusiasm and calling her “Sister.” He is dressed in a white kurta and cap, exuding the scent of rosewater and the mosque. Parveen remains seated and comments on the rarity of Faiz being home for lunch. Faiz compliments Rehana’s appearance, and Parveen affirms it in a perfunctory manner. Faiz praises Rehana’s cheerfulness in spite of her status as a widow and raising two children alone. Parveen interjects, noting her own suffering in not being able to have children. This triggers Rehana’s memory of the day she reclaimed her children from Parveen, who had begged to keep one, especially Sohail. Rehana recalls walking away with both children, aided by Abdul.
Faiz asks about Rehana’s children, and she repeats her fabricated story about Sohail’s friend in Karachi. Faiz expresses relief that Sohail is not involved in political unrest. Rehana inwardly accuses Faiz of being responsible for the violence. Faiz continues speaking about “bad influences” and “impressionable youth,” describing the unrest as “gondogol.”
Parveen takes a cigarette from a silver case in Faiz’s pocket and lights it. Rehana is visibly surprised. Faiz resumes speaking about the integrity of Pakistan and frames the military efforts as a fight for national and religious unity. He refers to the military as “freedom fighters.” Abdul interrupts to announce lunch.
As they walk to the dining room, Faiz grips Parveen’s arm tightly, leaving pink marks. Rehana pretends not to notice. Parveen replies sarcastically when told to put out her cigarette. The dining table is set for three and features a lavish spread of fish, chicken, dal, bhortas, polao, salad, and pickles. Rehana comments on the extravagance, but Parveen credits the cook. Faiz encourages Rehana to eat the eelish, which has been scarce in the market. Rehana finds it hard to swallow.
Faiz criticizes the youth uprisings, accusing Mujib of self-interest and asserting that Pakistan must remain united. He demands Rehana’s agreement. She reluctantly nods and agrees. Parveen declares “Pakistan Zindabad.”
As Faiz continues eating, Rehana decides it is time to speak. She pushes food aside on her plate to give the impression she is finished. She tells Faiz that she came to ask for a favor. Faiz responds enthusiastically, suggesting they wash up and have sweets. He acts as though he anticipated the request and implies that he will grant it readily. Abdul appears with a brass bowl of water and a cake of soap.
Rehana began speaking again in the drawing room. She explained that her neighbor had encountered trouble. Faiz assumed she was referring to the Hindu tenants, but Rehana clarified that the Senguptas had already left. Faiz remarked cynically about Hindu tenants fleeing the country, blaming them for not treating Pakistan as their own. He suggested she must now be in need of money due to their departure. Rehana corrected him and said it was not about the rent, but about her neighbor, Mrs Chowdhury.
Parveen interrupted, recognizing the name and making a sarcastic remark. Faiz asked what the problem was. Rehana explained it was Mrs Chowdhury’s son-in-law who had been captured. Parveen was surprised to hear that the daughter, Silvi, was married. Rehana elaborated that Silvi had married an officer in the Pakistan Army who later joined the Bengali rebellion. He had been captured and was believed to be held in Dhaka. Rehana had come to ask Faiz to help with his release.
Parveen immediately dismissed the request, saying it was not something Faiz could help with. Faiz agreed, clearly irritated that Rehana had made such a request. Parveen criticized Rehana’s long-standing loyalty to Mrs Chowdhury and accused her of taking bad advice for years. Rehana defended Silvi, explaining that she had not known her husband would join the resistance. Mrs Chowdhury had arranged the marriage with an army officer, not a rebel.
Sensing an opportunity, Rehana continued her plea. She argued that the boy had merely followed his regiment into rebellion and was not a leader. She described him as weak and swept up by events beyond his control. She said that helping him would not be an act of betrayal but one of salvation. She insisted that Faiz would be doing a service to his country by releasing the boy, who would then be grateful and reformed. As she spoke, Faiz’s interest grew. He asked what assurance he had that the boy would not return to the resistance. Parveen supported her husband’s doubts.
Faiz asked his wife to be quiet so he could think. Rehana continued to persuade him, claiming that saving the boy would change him. She promised that he would never return to the rebellion after such a generous act. Faiz remained contemplative.
Later, in Shona’s drawing room, Rehana met a man who asked what had happened. She informed him that Faiz had agreed. The man cautioned her that Faiz could still change his mind or that it might be a trap. Rehana insisted that she had deceived Faiz and Parveen successfully. He expressed concern for her safety, but Rehana argued that she was finally doing something significant. She reminded him that he had once said joining the rebellion was the greatest thing he had done; she now felt this was the greatest thing she had done. She insisted that she was capable of loving causes beyond her own children. He acknowledged that she could, but noted that nothing could be loved as much as one’s children. Rehana agreed.
Faiz had sent a message that he would arrive at ten. At six in the morning, after the Fajr prayer, Mrs Chowdhury and Silvi arrived at Rehana’s door. Rehana, already dressed, did not question their early arrival. They did not question her either. Mrs Chowdhury held Rehana’s hands and smiled gratefully. Rehana suggested they have breakfast, and asked Silvi to help her in the kitchen. She mentioned making egg paratha.
As they sat at the table, there was a knock on the door. Rehana opened it to find Mrs Rahman, wearing a pink cotton sari and carrying a few stems of rojonigondha. The flowers had a gentle scent. Rehana noticed the grey at Mrs Rahman’s temples and realized she had been dyeing her hair. Mrs Rahman looked hurt and asked why Rehana had not told her about her involvement. Rehana was unable to respond. Mrs Chowdhury stepped in and said she had called them. Rehana invited Mrs Rahman inside, and she offered the flowers as a gift, explaining that they were from her garden.
As Rehana closed the door, she saw Mrs Akram approaching in a rickshaw with another woman. Mrs Chowdhury had told them as well. Mrs Akram greeted her and introduced the other woman as Mrs Imam, whose husband had also been taken.
Rehana taught Silvi how to fry paratha by plunging it into hot oil, waiting until it was almost crisp, and then adding an egg into its center. Mrs Imam brought batches of egg paratha from the kitchen while the guests sat silently in a circle in the drawing room. After serving tea, Rehana noticed that the guests were waiting for her to speak. She realized they were expecting something courageous and defiant, something to help them cope with the trauma of the war – the deaths, the sounds of tanks, and the violence that had invaded their lives. Rehana said she could only hope that if her son were ever in danger, someone, perhaps one of them, would come to his rescue.
After the food was finished, Rehana passed around a plate of wrapped betel leaves. The gathering settled into a quiet, drowsy atmosphere. Rehana took this as an opportunity to excuse herself. She said it was time to go. Mrs Chowdhury, with red lips and made drowsy by the betel, lay sprawled across the sofa. The room was cluttered with empty glasses and dirty plates.
As Rehana prepared to say goodbye, a car horn sounded in the distance. Mrs Chowdhury immediately sprang up, announcing that “he” had arrived and telling Rehana to hurry. The women roused themselves and moved toward the door, but instead of leaving, they stood and looked at Rehana. Rehana politely asked them not to wait for her, but they insisted on seeing her off. Mrs Chowdhury spoke firmly, saying they would wait and telling her not to argue.
Rehana agreed and said she just needed to change her shoes. She went to the bedroom and stared at her shoes before settling on a brown pair with a short, square heel. She wore a navy-blue cotton sari and, at the last moment, put on a pair of gold jhumka earrings. She returned and said she was ready. Mrs Chowdhury urged her on with a hand on her wrist.
Rehana walked to the gate, accompanied by the women. Silvi took Rehana’s arm and softly recited a verse from the Ayatul Kursi in Arabic. At the gate, Rehana suddenly said she had forgotten something. She moved quickly past the confused women. Behind her, she heard their remarks – concerned guesses that she might be nervous or reconsidering her decision. Rehana ran past the driveway and through the drawing room. She unlatched the veranda gate and hurried through the hanging wet sheets. At the door of Shona’s house, she fumbled with her keychain, cursed her slow fingers, and finally unlocked the door.
Inside, the Major stood waiting, dressed in the same uniform he had worn when he first arrived. She had mended the trousers with bottle-green thread. He watched her closely, as though he had expected her. Rehana was struck by how unfamiliar he appeared while standing. She was used to seeing him from above, seated or lying down, but now she saw the full presence of him – his grey eyes, his chest, his face.
He instructed her not to look anyone in the face and not to speak. She nodded. Then he informed her that the doctor had sent a message – his leg was healed, and it was time for him to leave. Rehana suppressed her emotions and said goodbye. He refused the farewell, stating that he would stay until she returned. She pretended to be brave and said she was already late. He warned her that if she did not return within three hours, he would come for her. They exchanged parting words – “Khoda Hafez” and “Fiamanullah.”
Quasem and Faiz remain seated in the car while Rehana enters alone. Faiz greets her solemnly, dressed in a dark suit with a handkerchief in his pocket and a faint lemony scent. His hair is slicked back, revealing signs of thinning. Rehana avoids eye contact and looks instead at the back of Quasem’s head. Faiz, wearing dark glasses, sits silently by the window with a newspaper. Rehana, grateful for the silence, tries to distract herself by thinking about what might await her at the police station. She remembers Mrs Imam’s account of her husband’s body never being returned and struggles to control her thoughts. She attempts to recall old film tunes but fails, and the British anthem “God Save the King” loops in her mind. Faiz remains unmoving and does not turn the page of his newspaper, adding to the tension.
At a traffic light in Tongi, Faiz suddenly addresses Rehana. In a trembling voice, he accuses her of lying. Rehana is unsure what he is referring to, and she remains silent as he repeats the accusation and calls her a traitor. She begins to evaluate what he might know, considering the worst possibility would be if he knew about Sohail. Faiz accuses Rehana and her children of betraying their country. Rehana does not deny the accusations, but attempts to explain there may be a misunderstanding.
Faiz becomes more animated, shaking his newspaper at her and angrily referencing an article. He claims to be reading lies praising the freedom fighters and criticizing the Pakistan Army. He names Maya as the author, recognizing her by her full name, Sheherezade Haque Maya, and mocks the name her father gave her. He accuses her of spreading lies in the press. His anger intensifies as he shouts “LIAR” and throws the newspaper at Rehana’s feet. When she does not pick it up, he commands her to read it. She does, reading the title: “Chronicles of a Young Woman in Wartime” by Sheherezade Haque Maya. Though she considers denying it is Maya, she cannot help but smile. She covers her mouth and admits she should not have lied.
Faiz continues to berate her, insisting she should have controlled her daughter and blaming her for allowing Maya to join the resistance. He praises Sohail for having more sense, indicating he is unaware of Sohail’s involvement. He accuses Rehana of ruining the children of his brother, Iqbal, and regrets ever allowing her to take them. He leans toward her, and she sees her distorted reflection in his sunglasses.
At the mention of Iqbal, Rehana feels a pang of guilt. She realizes she has not thought of him in a long time and reflects on how busy and strange her life has become. She questions whether she would be in this situation if Iqbal were still alive. She wonders whether she would have been able to desire something dangerous, or if she would have been conditioned to want only what her husband wanted. She feels relieved that she does not need to answer these questions. She considers whether Iqbal would have had the courage to stay in Dhaka or if the children would have inherited his cautious nature. Her thoughts spiral as she recalls his anxiety and fear, his effort to avoid danger. She contemplates whether she had ever wished for a life without him, and whether, despite her deep grief, there had also been a sense of freedom in his absence. She wants to deny the thought, but she cannot.
Faiz says, “Now see what you’ve done,” expressing frustration. Rehana wonders how Faiz could believe the opposite of her beliefs and how he could be on the other side of her moral stance. She feels it is time to tell the truth. She admits, “I sent her there. To Calcutta, to join the muktis,” referring to a decision she made. Faiz reacts angrily, asking her to explain everything. Quasem, seated nearby, appears tense and tries to ignore the conversation. Faiz’s anger intensifies, and he demands the truth. Rehana apologizes for lying, but insists that she is not ashamed.
She explains that the decision was tied to Sharmeen, a girl who was captured by the army and tortured to death in a nearby cantonment. Rehana describes the atrocities Sharmeen suffered and challenges Faiz on how he could justify such violence, especially when the girl was the same age as Maya, Rehana’s daughter. Faiz dismisses her concerns, stating that such casualties are a part of war. He implies that sacrifices are necessary when one believes in something. Rehana pushes back, questioning whether children should be casualties in such a war.
Rehana suggests that Faiz may not have known the extent of the army’s actions, but now that she has told him, he can no longer avoid responsibility. Faiz seems momentarily uncertain, loosening his tie, and Rehana wonders if she has caused him to doubt his beliefs. The car slows as they reach Mirpur Thana, the police station. Quasem informs them of their arrival, and Faiz briefly considers the situation. He tells Rehana to go inside alone and handles the matter at a distance, making clear that he does not want to be involved any further. He gives her an envelope to show at the police station.
Rehana is reluctant to go alone, but Faiz insists he will not make it his business. He hands her the envelope, signaling the end of their conversation. Before she leaves, Rehana asks if he will tell anyone about Maya. Faiz responds with harsh words, not directly answering her question. He implies that if she had thought of the consequences before, things would have been different. Rehana tries to appeal to his sense of family, reminding him that Maya is his niece, but Faiz turns away, dismissing her concerns.
Rehana exits the car, feeling the weight of the situation. Quasem gives her a brief, apologetic smile before the car speeds off, leaving her behind in the dust. Clutching the envelope, Rehana briefly considers returning home to Mrs. Chowdhury but is unable to shake Sohail’s face from her mind. She decides to continue on to the police station, making her way across the field, adjusting her sari as she goes.
Rehana approaches the entrance of the thana, realizing she has forgotten to rehearse what she will say. She pauses outside the door, her shoes soaked by the field, and checks her handbag for the bundle Mrs. Chowdhury gave her. The sight of the bundle reassures her, and she takes a deep breath before reaching for the handle. At that moment, the door swings open, and a tall, bearded man in a military uniform brushes past her, offering a brief “Excuse me” in Urdu as he steps aside to let her pass.
Inside, Rehana crosses a dark corridor and enters a large, windowless room. At one end of the room, a bald man sits behind an enormous glass-topped table, while anxious, silent people occupy rows of metal chairs. As she approaches the desk, the whirring of the ceiling fan is interrupted occasionally by the creak of the man’s chair. He looks up at her from under heavy eyebrows.
Rehana asks to speak with someone, and her voice comes out louder than intended. The man tells her to take a form and wait, pointing with his chin. Rehana is confused and asks for clarification, and the man hands her a soggy sheet of paper labeled “Prisoner Visit Form.” Rehana insists she is not there to visit, but to release a prisoner. The man laughs, mocking her. He tells her that she is not the one to release prisoners, but they do so at the thana.
Rehana holds out the envelope Faiz gave her and explains that she has a release order. The man grabs the envelope and examines it, saying the name “Sabbeer Mustafa.” He flips through a large notebook, and Rehana leans in closer. The book smells sweaty as the man checks the pages, but when he looks back at her, he says Mustafa is not there. Rehana insists he check again, but the man dismisses her request, closing the book with a sharp clap.
Rehana, determined, takes out the bundle of Mrs. Chowdhury’s sugar money, unwrapping it slowly so the man can see the rupee notes. She offers fifty rupees, asking him to check again. The man grabs the money and shoves it into his pocket, reopening the notebook. After a pause, he confirms that Mustafa was transferred to Muslim Bazaar. Rehana is confused and asks if Muslim Bazaar is another thana, but the man explains it is not. When Rehana asks how to find it, the man waves her away, unwilling to help further.
Rehana watches the man as he prepares paan, slowly assembling the betel leaf with various ingredients. She waits for him to chew the paan before suggesting he call someone at Muslim Bazaar to ask about Mustafa’s whereabouts. At that moment, the door opens behind her. The man quickly swallows the paan, clears his throat, and restates that Mustafa is not there.
Rehana hears a voice calling, and she turns to see Kuddus, the man she passed earlier, in rough Bengali. Kuddus returns to his chair after a brief absence and awkwardly mentions that the boss likes Chinese tea. Rehana, now ready with another fifty rupees, asks him to bring Mustafa here. Kuddus, now more cooperative, picks up the phone and makes a call. After a short conversation, he turns to Rehana and informs her that she will need to go to Muslim Bazaar herself. He assures her that they will be expecting her and suggests she take a rickshaw, providing directions to the location.
Rehana thanks him, and Kuddus wishes her luck. As he turns to assist an elderly couple approaching the desk, Rehana hears the gate clang shut behind him as he leads them away. Rehana exits into the heavy rain, her feet squelching as she makes her way back across the field. The wind and rain are intense, knocking her achol from her head and causing her sari to fly as she struggles to gather it. Tea stalls and rickshaws line the roadside, but Rehana’s focus is on reaching Muslim Bazaar.
Rehana ducked under the awning of a nearby stall, where she saw a group of men sitting cross-legged, their faces lit by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp. She asked about the Muslim Bazaar, but could not hear their reply due to the drumming rain. One of the men, a young and small boy, stood up after a man at the back pointed to him, saying that Bokul would take her. The boy packed his lungi and prepared to leave. Rehana did not care about her appearance; her sari clung to her body, soaked from the rain. She waited as Bokul left to prepare the rickshaw.
Bokul struggled to secure the hood of the rickshaw before pulling out a plastic sheet to cover it. He instructed Rehana to wait as he prepared for their journey. She clung to the rickshaw’s hood as Bokul drove through the rain, stopping once to remove the front wheel from a flooded ditch. Rehana could not see anything due to the rain and the wind, and she stopped looking for familiar landmarks. The trees glistened in the wet.
After a while, Bokul stopped in front of a square concrete building with a tin roof, a faded sign reading “India Gymnasium.” Rehana paid him twenty rupees, telling him she would give him another twenty when she returned. She instructed him to wait, no matter how long it took, and he nodded, replying “Ji, apa.”
As Rehana sat inside the building, waiting, she began to feel the effects of hunger. It must be after lunch, but she had no food. The rain continued to pour outside, and she could not determine the time. She tried to comfort herself with the thought of her sari drying, though her joints ached. After hours of waiting, a guard appeared with Sabeer. Rehana felt disoriented, unsure of how long she had been asleep. The rain had stopped, and the atmosphere smelled of evening.
Sabeer was brought out with a hood covering his face. He wore no shoes, and his soles left sliding tracks in the dirt. Rehana turned to the man who brought Sabeer and noticed his black beard and height. The man smiled and handed her a form, saying she could take Sabeer. Rehana asked the man to remove the hood and untie Sabeer, which the man did. Sabeer’s face was revealed, and Rehana recognized his features: the bulge of his Adam’s apple, his thick neck, and blistered lips with a white crust around them.
The guard confirmed that Rehana had a release order, and Sabeer could go with her. However, Sabeer appeared blank and unresponsive. Rehana tried to engage him, but he did not acknowledge her. She called out for Bokul but could not find him. The road was empty and slick, with no sign of the rickshaw boy. In frustration, she asked Sabeer if he could walk. He was hunched over, his head between his knees, not responding. Rehana felt a panic rise inside her as she saw his state, wondering if he could even recognize her. She crouched next to him, unsure of what to do, feeling a sudden urge to abandon him. The wailing sound from his bent head grew louder, and Rehana realized that Sabeer was not conscious.
Rehana tried to leave him and find help, but as she walked away from the gymnasium, she realized she had no idea where she was going. She clutched Mrs. Chowdhury’s money, considering begging someone to take her away. As she walked, she collided with something, realizing it was a rickshaw. Bokul emerged from the darkness, revealing himself as the rickshaw boy. Rehana scolded him for not waiting as instructed, but he explained that a man had come out of the building with a stick and forced him to leave.
Rehana climbed into the rickshaw, and they headed back to look for Sabeer, but he was no longer where she had left him. Bokul reminded her that curfew was in half an hour. Rehana called out for Sabeer, hearing a noise coming from the gymnasium. She ran back toward the building, where she found Sabeer making clanging noises and slapping against the door. She reached out for him, urging him to come with her, but when she grabbed his hand, he screamed in panic. Rehana tried to comfort him, but Sabeer twisted away, his shirt sleeve peeling off, revealing his red-tipped fingers, which were no longer nails but raw, misshapen stubs. He pleaded, “No, please,” as he sank to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Rehana, distressed, realized the horror of what had happened to him.
Rehana whispered, “Oh, God,” feeling a deep fear as she looked at Sabeer, afraid to touch him and uncertain of what else might be hidden beneath his clothes. Bokul approached from behind, offering to help carry Sabeer to the rickshaw. He squatted, cradled Sabeer’s head, and lifted his body with a grunt. Despite his appearance, Bokul proved to be stronger than expected. Sabeer’s head flopped back as Bokul struggled to carry him to the rickshaw. Rehana climbed in from the other side, attempting to support Sabeer’s upright position by pulling on his collar. She urged him to sit up, tears falling as she managed to keep him steady, holding him with both arms. She then instructed Bokul to hurry.
Bokul asked for her address, and Rehana replied, “Dhanmondi. Road 5.” In her mind, Rehana’s thoughts were consumed with a desperate need to see Sabeer again, to have just one more fleeting moment with him. She hoped that the black hood would disappear, and that Sabeer would survive, imagining him as a red-tipped bird. She convinced herself that he would know before she even spoke, though she swore she would not utter a word. Her thoughts spiraled, and she prayed that God would take away the pain, the suffering, and the body of Sabeer. She longed for the release, to be rid of the feeling of loss, even as she continued to plead for his relief.
Rehana then recalled a time when her mother had prayed to take on the suffering of her sick daughter, wishing for the pain to transfer from her to herself. Now, Rehana longed for the same – she wanted to be rid of the distress, the sight of Sabeer’s injuries, and the lingering feelings of grief. She lay down on the pillow, enveloped in his scent, and once again, she prayed, tears flowing freely, asking God to take her yearning, her relief, and her want.
The room around her seemed to spin. She noticed the portraits of Mrs. Sengupta’s parents on the wall as she closed her eyes, falling into a dream where a man massaged her shoulder with a rough hand. The hand moved from her neck to her arm, as though trying to keep her grounded. Rehana was suddenly startled by the sound of her name. The voice felt foreign to her. She tried to respond, but then she realized, “It was all there – Sabeer…”
“I know,” a voice replied, and she felt that the Major understood her thoughts completely. His presence was close – she could feel his breath on her hair, his body pressing against hers. His hand, with its tense veins, slid across her waist, holding her down as though preventing her from floating away. The scent of burned rubber filled the air.
Rehana lay her wet face against the pillow, swallowing a sob. She felt the Major’s understanding deeply – he spoke little but seemed to know everything. His hand tightened, and she tilted back, feeling the hard weight of his chest against her back. His breath burned in her ear, and she gripped the pillowcase, finding comfort in the pressure.
“Sleep,” the Major whispered. “You can sleep.”
Rehana’s eyes miraculously closed, and her body relaxed. Despite her quickened breath, she drifted into a hard, dreamless sleep.
The sky over Bengal is empty, flat, and devoid of landmarks, giving a sense of an uninterrupted horizon. There are occasional clouds and rain, which are merely colors: white cumulus and black monsoon clouds. Beyond the city, there are no buildings to distract from the land, which promises beauty in its vast, unfolding plains. Every year, the land turns to sea during the rains but prevails again, symbolizing a repetitive historical cycle.
Rehana travels westward on the 2:55 train from Agartala to Calcutta, alone in an empty compartment. The wind blows through the open window, whipping her hair around her face. The train passes through a landscape of mustard, rice, and chili fields, moving northward through Bengal. Then, the land curves, and the train enters Assam, where the morning light paints a new landscape of rolling hills, crisp air, and the scent of apples.
This route, called the Chicken Neck, was originally laid by the British as a holiday route for memsahibs traveling to hill stations like Silchar and Shillong. The air in this region is dry, and the light is sharp, falling directly from the sky, illuminating the green hills below. Rehana reflects on her decision to leave Dhaka. She recalls how Faiz, Joy, and the Major warned her of potential danger, suggesting that she leave the city quickly. She locked up the two houses and draped sheets over the furniture, remembering how her father had done the same when they lost Wellington Square. She questions whether this makes her a refugee, as she journeys away from her home.
Rehana’s route takes her first east into India before she catches the train to Calcutta. She recalls her recent departure: taking Sabeer to Mrs. Chowdhury’s house and seeing Silvi’s reaction — her husband’s presence at the gate, Silvi’s eyes dominating her face as tiny lines formed at the corners of her mouth. Rehana left without saying goodbye, feeling that she had done her duty without awaiting acknowledgment.
As she sits on the train, Rehana takes out a stack of letters that smell of mothballs. She wonders where Silvi had kept them – perhaps among clothes or jewellery. When she had packed, Rehana couldn’t bear to leave the letters behind. She had also packed only the essentials: three saris, three blouses, three petticoats, a nightgown, a towel, a plastic comb, a blanket, and, as instructed by Joy, a plate.
The Major had told her he would not accompany her. He would return to Agartala, as it was safer for her to travel alone. He reassured her that Maya would meet her in Calcutta and that everything was arranged. Rehana noticed the slight tremor in his eyelids, the battle between his feelings and his decision.
Rehana takes a sip from her flask, reflecting on the closeness of illness, the feverish sensations of restlessness and love. She remembers a line from Ghalib, thinking about how life would have gone on predictably without the turmoil she now faces.
As the train turns south toward Calcutta, the monsoon fields return. Rehana gazes out at the flooded landscape, where the rice fields are divided into rectangular plots surrounded by raised mud banks. The land is divided by stages of rice growth: pale, tiny shoots, more established shoots, and mature paddy ready for harvest. The fields resemble miniature islands, each in a flooded pool, forming a chequered pattern of green and gold.
Suddenly, the sky changes to a washed slate color, and slanted sheets of rain begin to pour through the open window. Rehana struggles to close the window, and once it slams shut, the sounds of the train and the rain dominate: the looping wheels on the tracks and the tapping of rain on the window, turning everything outside to a blue-black haze.
The train approached Shialdah Station and came to a halt. As the doors opened, Rehana tumbled out with her bag, finding herself immediately immersed in a crowd. The station was a dense mass of people, and she pushed through, trying to make her way to the end of the platform, where she stood on tiptoe to see above the throng of faces. She wondered how Maya would find her. After a few moments, Rehana found a small space in front of a bench and sat down on her bags.
As she waited, she began to observe the different categories of travelers around her. There were those who had just arrived, with anxious expressions similar to her own; the recently arrived, still hanging around the station, unsure of their next step or waiting for someone to pick them up; and those who had been there for weeks or months, realizing that there was no place beyond the station and no hope of leaving. These people lay on the platform in rows, covered by blankets, their faces hidden, as though resigned to the fact that they would never leave.
A young man approached and called out, “Mrs. Haque?” Rehana was unsure whether to respond, but eventually said, “Yes?” The young man, with a friendly gap between his teeth, grinned. “Remarkable resemblance! Even in this crowd I recognized you.” He introduced himself as Mukul, saying he was there to collect her because Maya was unable to come. He cheerfully grabbed her bag and began pushing through the crowd, leading her out of the station, where the heat hit her immediately.
Mukul’s car was a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, with the bumper painted to match. He started speaking as soon as they got in, explaining that the front seat was full of pamphlets that he was supposed to deliver but had not yet been able to due to traffic. Rehana thanked him for coming, and Mukul, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror, expressed his admiration, calling her an example and a hero. The car drove past flooded pavements, splashing a group of schoolboys.
Mukul asked if it was Rehana’s first time in Calcutta, to which she responded that she had lived there before. Surprised, Mukul asked where, and Rehana, too stunned to make up an address, revealed that she had lived in Wellington Square. Mukul, intrigued, remarked that her family must have been wealthy. As they drove through the narrow city roads, Rehana kept the window rolled up, but she could still smell the mud and rotting vegetables of Calcutta. The clatter of tongas and the scent of roasting peanuts filled the air, but Rehana kept her eyes focused on her lap, resisting the urge to look at her old home.
She reminded herself that she had not returned to Calcutta. She recalled how desperate she had been to leave before her marriage to Iqbal had been arranged. One by one, her sisters had been married and moved to Karachi. The house in Wellington Square was long gone, and they had rented a flat above a dusty bookshop on College Street. Every morning, her father would go down into the bookstore and announce the titles he used to own, calling out, “Great Expectations!” and “Akbar-nama. Tales of the Alhambra.”
Mukul’s car stops in front of a two-storey house with a rectangular garden patch, and the sign above the gate reads “number 8, theatre road.” He tells Rehana to go ahead while he parks the car and retrieves her jeeneesh-potro. Rehana refuses and decides to bring in her small bag herself.
Entering the office, Rehana hears the clatter of typewriters and the screech of a tuning radio. She steps into a high-ceilinged room, smelling of cobwebs and newsprint, with fluorescent lighting. Her daughter, Maya, suddenly rushes to her, knocking the breath out of her. After pulling Rehana away to scan her face, Maya greets her with enthusiasm, calling her “Ammoo” and hugs her again. She apologizes for not coming to the station and expresses excitement about the Soviets signing a treaty.
As Maya waves her arms around, some people look up from their desks and greet Rehana respectfully. Maya asks if Rehana’s train journey was fine, to which Rehana responds that it was only tiring. Maya reassures her that she has arranged everything for Rehana’s stay and offers to show her around afterward. Maya also suggests that Rehana rest, but Rehana asks for some tea and a bath first.
Rehana takes a moment to observe the office, noting the mess of stacked papers, young men frowning over typewriters, and a few posters on the walls. She spots a framed photograph of Mujib in his black coat, which already looks out of date. As she settles into a worn leather chair, the clack of typewriters and the radio’s buzzing provide a hypnotic background.
Maya returns with a cup of tea and biscuits, just as the BBC broadcasts a report about the historic Indo-Soviet treaty. The office erupts in cheers and joy, and everyone chants “Joy Bangla! Joy Bangobandhu!” Several telephones ring, and there is backslapping and excitement. Rehana eats the biscuits, but soon feels exhausted and asks Maya to take her to the flat.
Maya hesitates and corrects her, saying it is not a flat, but Rehana insists that she simply wants to rest. Rehana gathers her things and heads toward the front door, but Maya redirects her to the back of the building. They pass more workers at their desks and a young woman dressed in grey trousers, who introduces herself as Sultana, offering to help Rehana with anything.
Maya leads Rehana up a narrow stairwell, where they step around discarded newspapers, spit stains, and mud. They emerge onto a flat roof, where they cross to a small shed at the far end. Maya unlocks it with a key, revealing a tiny room with a sagging cot and a heavy wooden desk. A small window with metal bars divides the room. Maya explains that it is the best she could do, and she apologizes for the humble living conditions, mentioning that she has cleaned the space.
Rehana reassures Maya that it is fine, saying it is not for long. Maya explains that the room is an upgrade from her previous living arrangements in the office, and she jokes about the fun of it. Maya unravels herself from her sari and changes into her nightgown. As she settles onto the cot, she tells Rehana she heard about Sabeer.
Sohail had begged Rehana to help, citing Mrs. Chowdhury’s hysteria. He believed that by bringing Sabeer back, Silvi might love him again. Rehana reflected on the situation, acknowledging that Sabeer was in terrible condition. She had persuaded them to release him, but only after asking Faiz Chacha for assistance. She could not remember exactly how she had managed it; the events of that day felt distant, as if they had happened to someone else.
Maya, noticing a change in Rehana, remarked that she looked different, though she could not pinpoint why. Rehana responded that she had thought the same about Maya. As Maya spoke about her feelings of guilt for leaving her mother alone, Rehana recalled how she had not truly been alone – she had found solace in watching Mughal-e-Azam, falling in love with a stranger, and speaking words she had kept hidden for many years.
Maya continued, expressing how busy her life had become. She turned to ask about Sabeer, eager to know what had been done to him. Rehana, looking at the ceiling, debated which version of the truth to share with her daughter. Maya then confirmed that she had already heard reports about the prisoners. Rehana sighed and finally gave in to Maya’s insistence, describing the brutal torture Sabeer had endured: beatings, broken ribs, forced exposure to the sun, burns from cigarettes, being hung upside down, drinking salt water, and having his fingernails torn out. Tears welled up in Rehana’s eyes as she relayed these details, and Maya, now standing by the window, reflected that Sabeer was lucky to have been rescued before he was forced to dig his own grave.
Maya praised Rehana for her bravery, and the two lay down to sleep, with Maya curling herself around her mother. Rehana thought about the Major, recalling his blue-threaded arm and the weight of his breath, feeling a hunger for him, a kind of love she had never experienced before – different from her love for her children, home, or even her husband.
The next morning, Maya woke Rehana early, handing her tea and a toothbrush. Rehana, still groggy, learned that they had to hurry to meet Sultana and go to the camp. Maya was efficient, no longer showing the softness of the previous day. After a quick breakfast, they traveled in a shabby truck driven by Sultana, with Rehana wedged between Maya and Sultana. Maya held a box labeled “oral rehydration therapy,” while Rehana marveled at the situation. Maya whispered to her that in wartime, they could do whatever they wanted.
They stopped at a coffee house, where Mukul greeted Rehana before joining them in the back of the truck with medical supplies. The morning was still dark, the dew hanging heavily on the trees, and Maya and Sultana sang a song. At one point, Sultana shared a joke about a Pakistani soldier and a jackfruit, which made Maya laugh. Rehana wished for the journey to end quickly. As they continued, Maya cheerfully called out that they were halfway there, just before the rain began, drenching the road ahead and creating a rhythmic noise on the truck’s windscreen.
Once they crossed Howrah Bridge and left Calcutta’s perimeter, the landscape was barren, with fields of drying hay. They passed a jute factory, which emitted the smell of grass and dung, a leather factory with a fishy odor, and a cement factory with black towers of smoke and loud, staccato clattering. After half an hour, Mukul rapped on the glass, announcing that they were almost there and pointing ahead to a handwritten sign reading “Salt Lake 2 kilometers.” The wind flattened his hair and ears.
Sultana turned the steering wheel to the right, leading them onto a narrow, rough track. In the distance, Rehana saw an enormous tent and a makeshift settlement of shacks and hutments. Stacked in the fields were oversized cement pipes. Rehana asked if this was the place, and Sultana confirmed, calling it Salt Lake Refugee Camp.
As they neared the tent, Rehana noticed a giant banner painted with a Red Cross sign. Maya identified the tent as a hospital. The field between the car and the tent was littered with the remnants of hastily abandoned homes: shoes, combs, clothing fragments, and broken cooking pots, sinking into the mud like confetti.
Maya and Sultana stepped over the boards, navigating through puddles and smudged footprints. Maya wore a red sari, pinned high above her ankles, and sturdy closed shoes. Rehana, unsure of what to expect, lifted her sari to avoid trailing in the mud and covered her head with a copy of the Calcutta Statesman as the sun broke through the clouds, thickening the heat. She focused on the uneven boards, careful with each step.
Inside the Red Cross tent, Maya and Sultana were greeted warmly by volunteers. A tall man in a white coat approached them, greeting them as “my Tuesday angels.” Maya introduced him as Dr. Rao, and he invited them to join him later when he did the rounds. Maya agreed, and he walked away briskly.
Sultana began unpacking supplies and organizing the volunteers. Maya joined her, and Rehana stood in a corner, watching quietly, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling like she was invisible while her companions carried on with important tasks. Maya asked if Rehana wanted to look around, and Rehana agreed, relieved to step outside.
Outside, Rehana saw a long line of families waiting for vaccinations. Maya explained that vaccinations were done every morning at ten. At the front of the line, a sandy-haired man was administering shots to children. Maya led Rehana toward the shanty area, where discarded cement pipes were stacked three or four high. Rehana could not see what Maya was pointing to, but Maya explained that the newcomers were brought inside the pipes.
Rehana looked again and saw people huddling inside the pipes, their bodies bent against the curved walls. Lungis were hung across some pipes for privacy, and saris were drying on top. As they moved closer, the ground became more sodden, and the smell of human waste overwhelmed Rehana. She stopped, covering her mouth with her sari, and asked Maya how long they would stay in Calcutta. Maya explained that Dhaka was no longer safe due to the raids and the increasing danger from the authorities. Rehana, feeling homesick, regretted coming so quickly, but Maya reassured her that she would soon settle in.
They continued walking through the camp. The pipes remained just as they had been at a distance. Children played near the pipes, and women stood inside, their faces covered with their saris. They encountered a young boy, no more than six or seven years old, who was braiding jute. Maya asked where he was from, and he muttered, “Pabna.” She inquired further about his village, but the boy could not answer.
A woman with a chicken tucked under her arm emerged from a pipe and addressed Rehana, demanding the basket. She looked at Maya and asked about the boy, Dulal, who was with her. Maya introduced herself but did not mention Rehana, and when asked if Dulal was her child, the woman clarified that he was from her village. Maya instructed the woman to go to a nearby tent to register for food and medicine, explaining that Dulal could also benefit from the services. The woman passed the chicken to Dulal, who had tied his braids into a loose net. Rehana wanted to ask more about the woman’s life but Maya was already moving on, waving at an old man.
Rehana then offered money to the woman, but she refused with a cold stare, stating that she did not need money. When Rehana tried to touch her arm, the woman moved away, and Rehana followed Maya as she continued deeper into the camp. The area became unbearably hot, and the stench intensified. Shacks and makeshift shelters replaced the cement pipes, with only a few having tin sheeting for rain protection. Rehana swatted away flies and struggled with the crowded, grim surroundings, haunted by the desperate faces of the refugees. She imagined being trapped in the camp like them, forced to work.
Rehana told Maya that she could not go any further, feeling overwhelmed. Maya encouraged her to continue, but Rehana insisted on staying behind and offered to wait at the tent. Maya questioned if she would be able to find the tent, and Rehana assured her that she would. After Maya left, Rehana made her way back to the tent, hoping to escape the discomfort and rest.
Inside the tent, she found the hospital ward, where the beds were arranged closely together, creating a continuous line of bodies. Walking through the aisle, she stepped over people and was struck by the sight of women holding their children, some breastfeeding. A doctor approached her, recognizing her as Mrs. Haque, and asked what she was doing there. She explained that she was just looking around, and the doctor offered to show her the facilities. She declined, saying she only wanted to see.
The doctor, Dr. Rao, explained the difficult conditions, mentioning that refugees from all over the country had walked for days to reach the camp. Rehana noticed red stains on his gloves and found herself fixated on them. Dr. Rao offered to show her the register and led her to another room filled with more refugees and the sounds of wailing children. Rehana asked about the mechanical noise, and Dr. Rao explained that it was the generator, providing power for the operating theatre and limited light. He shared that he stayed at a small tent in the corner of the field and revealed that he had come to Calcutta from Kashmir, not to study, but to help in the camp.
Later that night, Maya told Rehana that Dr. Rao suggested she might want to help at the camp. Rehana, feeling trapped in the situation, asked how she could help. Maya suggested she could assist by talking to the refugees, just as she had done at Shona.
Rehana did not want to talk to the refugees, questioning why it always fell to her to help. She felt that if she were in the way, she should return to Dhaka. Maya, however, insisted she could not leave, reminding Rehana that it was serious and that she could have been arrested. Rehana, overwhelmed, declared that she deserved to be arrested, and Maya dismissed her thoughts as nonsense. Maya then turned her back and lay down, her hands folded under her cheek as though she were praying, which reminded Rehana of her father’s sleeping posture.
The heat in the shed woke Rehana. She found Maya’s bed empty, with clothes scattered on the floor. Rehana began folding the clothes, noticing a smell coming from Maya’s kameez that needed washing. She also saw the hems of the saris and petticoats were stained with mud. Rehana stepped outside, looking for a tap. After circling the shed, she found a copper pipe and a weak trickle of water. Without laundry soap, she used the bar of soap she had brought to wash her face. She kneaded the fabric, feeling herself relax as she washed the clothes. Once hung over the railing to dry, she noticed the fat woman from the neighboring roof again, hanging the same yellow sari. They waved at each other.
Downstairs, Maya was typing on a typewriter, her mouth holding a pen that had leaked, leaving a patch of ink on her lip. When Rehana asked where she had been, Maya simply said she had been tidying upstairs, and Rehana pointed out the ink stain. Maya continued typing without responding. Rehana decided to go out to buy soap and snacks, to which Maya agreed without looking up.
As Rehana stepped outside, she passed Mukul, who was posting a flyer on the wall while wearing a blue cap pulled down to hide his eyes. He greeted her, commenting on the heat and offering her his cap, which Rehana declined. She continued down the street, feeling the heat burn her cheeks, but kept going, thinking of Mukul’s sweaty cap. She walked through a busy area of Calcutta she did not recognize, where tram tracks crossed the road and shops lined the streets. The atmosphere was louder and more crowded than she remembered, with people filling the sidewalks and trams tilting from the weight of the passengers.
Rehana entered a small shop to buy washing soap and other necessities. The shopkeeper, an elderly man, asked if he had seen her before. When Rehana could not recall him, he asked if she was from Dhaka and referred to the refugee slogan “Joy Bangla.” Rehana, despite being from Calcutta, responded affirmatively, and the man offered her a refugee discount. He also expressed a fatherly kindness, remembering his own experiences as a refugee in 1947. He encouraged her to return whenever she needed anything.
As Rehana left the shop, she noticed the man waving at her and telling her not to cry, which she found strange. She stepped back into the heat, tasting the ice cream she had bought from him. She walked further, passing a tobacco shop and a Chinese restaurant, before finding a shaded bench outside a State Bank of India. Two women on the bench moved over to make room for her. Across the street, passengers got on and off a tram, and Rehana observed that they were the same as the refugees she had seen at the train station, in Shona’s garden, and in the camps — refugees now wandering through the streets.
Rehana observes refugees around her, noting that some of them seem less desperate and almost ordinary, though their attempts to blend in are unconvincing. She can tell they are refugees by their unwashed hair, dirty shoes, and clothes that appear decent at first glance but show signs of wear, such as ragged hems and worn pleats. As they move about, their memories seem to invade their actions – forgetting to cross the road at the right time, over-milking their tea, or whispering into their newspapers while searching for news of home. Rehana feels unable to look at them, afraid that she will either see herself in them or fail to recognize herself entirely. She is caught between wanting to be both different from them and the same, yet neither option alleviates the feeling of loss or the overwhelming, unfulfilled love she experiences.
That evening, as Rehana and Maya prepare for bed, Rehana decides to cut Maya’s hair. She had tidied the shed, folding and stacking Maya’s clothes, which smell of afternoon sun. The window is open, and a slight breeze fills the room. Rehana suggests cutting Maya’s hair, pointing out that the ends of her braid are ragged and uneven. Maya initially refuses, asking what is wrong with her hair. Rehana reassures her that there is nothing wrong but insists that she simply wants to trim it to make it straight. Maya questions how Rehana knows how to cut hair, and Rehana explains that she used to cut the hair of her sisters and her father when they were poor in Calcutta and unable to afford a barber. Maya remembers that Rehana used to cut her brother Sohail’s hair but comments that she thought Rehana did so because Sohail was her favorite. Rehana dismisses this, saying that the real reason was that Maya was always too stubborn to let her near her hair.
Maya finally agrees to let Rehana cut her hair. Rehana prepares the scissors and a small mug of water, dipping the end of Maya’s ragged braid into the water before undoing it and beginning to comb through the hair. She notes the numerous knots in Maya’s hair and jokes about the mess. Maya requests no commentary from the “haircutter” as Rehana works, but Rehana insists that Maya hold still to avoid an uneven cut. As Rehana trims, the hair falls in curling half-moons to the ground. Rehana then tells Maya that she had been thinking about what the doctor said, suggesting that it might be a good idea for them to stay in the shed for a while longer. Maya protests that Rehana does not need to do this, but Rehana insists that she has nothing else to do and that there must be a reason she is there. After finishing the trim, Rehana pats Maya’s shoulder and declares the job done. Maya then comments that the war will end soon and they will not be in their current situation forever.
Rehana was following Dr. Rao through the ward, taking notes on new patients and their prescriptions. When they reached the last cot, Rehana noticed a woman she did not recognize. The woman’s face was mostly covered by a blanket, but Rehana could see her forehead, long hair, and a red-and-gold glass bangle on her arm. Rehana inquired about the woman’s identity, but Dr. Rao did not know her either. Rehana peeled back the blanket and recognized her friend, Supriya, though she was initially unsure. After a second look, Rehana confirmed it was her friend from Dhaka.
Rehana introduced the woman as Mrs. Sengupta, but Dr. Rao quickly assessed that she was alone in the hospital, without any family present. Rehana was shocked, as Supriya had a husband and a son, and she would not have come without them. Rehana attempted to comfort Supriya by adjusting her sari and speaking softly to her, but Supriya was unresponsive, though her eyelids fluttered briefly.
The next day, Rehana returned to the hospital, and Mrs. Sengupta was still in the same position, her sari around her knees, but awake. Rehana began taking care of her, washing her hair with coconut oil, cutting her nails, and applying cream to her elbows. Though Mrs. Sengupta followed Rehana with her eyes, she did not speak. Rehana shared news of the war with her friend, including the changes in their community, such as the shutdown of the club and the departure of many young men, including Sohail, who had joined the army. She also expressed regret about a girl named Silvi, who no longer resembled the person she once knew.
While attending to Mrs. Sengupta, Rehana kept certain things from her, like the capture of Sabeer and her complex feelings about the Major, with whom she had developed an inexplicable affection despite knowing very little about him. As Rehana spent more time at the hospital, she also began to connect with other women, listening to their stories of the war, but neither Sohail’s nor the Major’s letters arrived.
By October, Rehana had become accustomed to her routine. The rooftop was no longer uncomfortable, and she spent time there, watching the city as the evening descended. Mrs. Sengupta remained silent, and Rehana grew increasingly frustrated, wondering if her friend would ever speak again. One evening, while patching a torn petticoat on the roof, Rehana had the idea that perhaps Mrs. Sengupta would be willing to write. The next day, she brought a notebook and pencil to the hospital and offered them to her friend. Mrs. Sengupta shook her head in refusal.
Rehana then recounted the story of losing her children in court and how she managed to get them back, hoping to provide comfort. She also mentioned that she believed Mr. Sengupta would eventually find his wife. Rehana continued to search for him in the camp register, hoping to reunite them.
The next morning, Mrs. Sengupta handed Rehana the notebook, with a few lines written in it. The writing described her walking into a pond and leaving her husband. Rehana was confused and tried to understand the meaning, but Mrs. Sengupta’s next words were more direct: “They shot him.” Rehana could not bear the pain of reading more and decided to leave, promising to return with lunch. Before Rehana left, Mrs. Sengupta wrote one final line, “True, true, true,” and closed her eyes.
Rehana felt unable to respond, afraid that some accusation might slip out despite her attempts to say it was all right and that she understood. She could not help but feel disgusted by the thought of Mrs. Sengupta abandoning her son, believing there must have been another way. She wondered how a mother could leave her son behind, imagining him lost or in the hands of strangers, or worse.
The following day, Rehana avoided Mrs. Sengupta, and she did not visit her for several days after that. A week passed, and Rehana tried to put the situation out of her mind. Then, one morning, while looking for a safety pin among Maya’s things, Rehana found a telegram dated October 16, 1971. The message read:
SABEER DEAD STOP TRIED OUR BEST STOP
COULDN’T SAVE STOP GOD BLESS MRS C
Rehana folded the telegram carefully, her fingers trembling. She tucked it into her blouse, feeling her heart pound against it as she traveled to Salt Lake. Her mind drifted back to that night with Sabeer, recalling how she had lashed herself to him during their journey through the dark. Her thoughts then turned to Silvi, Mrs. Chowdhury, and Romeo, who had turned to dust under a coconut tree. She felt a deep, burning desire to return home, to her neighborhood, to the bungalow, and to Shona.
At home, Rehana thought about Mrs. Sengupta and where Supriya might go when all of this was over. She decided to speak with her, to tell her the truth: though she did not understand how a mother could abandon her child, she realized it was not her place to understand – it was between Mrs. Sengupta and her maker. She would be a friend, regardless.
Rehana went to the ward for her daily appointment with Dr. Rao. As she waited, the trembling in her fingers spread to her arms, and a cold shiver traveled through her. Dr. Rao approached, punctual as always.
“Did you check the list today?” Rehana asked.
“Yes, Chachi, I checked the list.”
“And?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry.” Dr. Rao sighed, repeating their daily exchange.
“Chachi, I know she’s your friend, but there’s really not much more we can do.”
“But her son is lost — now we know exactly where he was last seen. We have to keep looking. Promise me you’ll keep looking.” Rehana stood, feeling the room tilt. She leaned on Dr. Rao’s arm.
“Chachi? Are you all right?”
“Nothing. I should probably have some breakfast – haven’t eaten all morning.”
“There must be something in the kitchen. Shall I take you?”
“No, please don’t worry. The list – you’ll keep checking? Sabeer Mustafa. I mean, no – Mithun. Mithun Sengupta. You got the name?”
“Yes, Chachi.”
Rehana, feeling disoriented, made her way to the canteen. The usual hospital noise was now a constant, but today, it seemed to blur into the background as a roaring sound filled her head. She put her hand to her mouth, feeling the warmth of her breath, and decided she needed to sit down. As she scanned the room, Maya spotted her.
“Ammoo, are you all right?”
“Nothing, jaan, just a little weakness.” A shiver passed through her body. “The telegram – why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ammoo, let’s sit down somewhere.”
“OK.” Maya grabbed Rehana’s hand, leading her through the crowd. Some women waved, calling out, “Apa!” Their voices sounded like distant echoes.
“Maya-jaan, I’m not feeling well,” Rehana whispered, her strength faltering.
Maya, now in front of her, began pushing people aside, shouting, “Make way, please!”
Suddenly, Rehana slipped from Maya’s grip and was swept into the throng. Strange hands gripped her shoulders, lifting her, her arms flopping helplessly, and then everything went black.
Rehana drifted in and out of sleep, feeling her throat thick with unspoken questions. She dreamed of Sabeer, his cracked lips moving silently, and Mithun with a face like Sohail’s, underwater and wailing for his mother. In her dream, she heard Sohail calling to her, “Ma, I’m here, Ma.”
When Rehana awoke, her face was still hot, but the shivering had stopped. There was an aching heaviness in her limbs, and her head throbbed painfully. She noticed that her feet were soft, as if someone had been tending to them. She caught a faint scent of jasmine.
“My hair…” Rehana murmured.
“Mrs. Sengupta’s been washing it,” a man’s raspy voice replied. “Doesn’t speak to anybody, just does it. And your feet.”
Rehana wondered if she was still dreaming. “Sohail?”
Sohail leaned over her, confirming that it was really him.
“When did you come?”
“I was coming anyway—you didn’t get my letter. Just a few days. You’ve been in and out.”
“What happened?”
“Jaundice. Rao said you’ve probably had it for weeks, you just didn’t know. It’s very contagious – they had to check everyone.”
“Maya?”
“She’s fine.”
Rehana had many questions, but she was too tired to speak. “Hold my hand,” was all she managed to say before drifting off again.
The next day, Sohail sat beside her, holding a green coconut with a triangular hole cut into the top. He helped her drink from it. “I have an assignment, Ammoo,” he said. “We’re going to take out the grid.”
The coconut water was sweet and milky. Sohail smiled through his beard as he spoke. Rehana admired his beauty, noting how alive he seemed.
“Whole city will be in total darkness. We’re going to dig up the stash in the garden, Ammoo. I have to go back to Dhaka.”
“What about us?”
“You too. I’ve come to take you home. And Maya.”
“Home.” Rehana felt a surge of joy. “Is it safe?”
“It’s been two months since you left, and we’ve kept a close watch on the house—it doesn’t look like they know anything.”
“Sabeer died.”
“I know.” Sohail’s face showed no emotion.
“He didn’t die for nothing, Ma. We’ve made some major gains. Just last week, we took the Pak Army out of one of their major supply routes in Comilla.”
“Are we going to win?” Rehana asked, the first time she had asked him this question.
Sohail was about to respond affirmatively, but Rehana gave him a weak squeeze on the wrist, signaling that she wanted the truth. He paused for a moment before replying, “It’s not impossible.” After another brief pause, he added, “We’re outnumbered, outgunned, outmanned. But sometimes we can beat the hell out of them.” He smiled his cloudy smile and said, “I can taste the end. The modhu-roshogolla-honey end.”
When Rehana opened her eyes again, she noticed Mrs. Sengupta standing at the foot of her cot. Mrs. Sengupta appeared like a dark apparition, her face expressionless and still. She wore a clean sari, flat sandals, and had her hair oiled and tied into a glossy braid.
Rehana remarked, “Now I’m the one in the sickbed,” but Mrs. Sengupta barely smiled in response. Rehana then asked, “What happened to you?” but quickly rephrased her question to, “You washed my hair?”
Mrs. Sengupta bent her head in a silent gesture but did not speak. She stood stiffly at the foot of the bed, waiting. After a moment, Rehana finally said, “I’m going back to Dhaka. Why don’t you come? The war will be over soon. It’ll be like it was before. You can stay at Shona — we’ll be neighbors again. Or come and stay at the bungalow with me. Remember Road 5? And Mrs. Chowdhury, and our card-friends – they’ll all want to see you.” Rehana’s throat felt dry. “It’s your home too. Come with us.”
Mrs. Sengupta showed no sign of understanding. She kept her gaze fixed on Rehana’s face and absentmindedly adjusted her glass bangle, moving it up and down her forearm. Then, she walked around to the side of the cot. Rehana reached out to hold her hand, feeling the blood pulsing under Mrs. Sengupta’s skin. In that moment, Rehana believed that the glass bangle had somehow kept her friend alive, like a pulse at her wrist.
Mrs. Sengupta then dipped her face toward the cot. Rehana thought she might be trying to convey something, so she struggled to lift her head. The slightest, faintest touch occurred as Mrs. Sengupta’s lips brushed Rehana’s cheek. After that, Mrs. Sengupta stood up and began to leave.
Rehana made one final attempt, saying, “Please, Supriya – come home with me.” But Mrs. Sengupta was already gone, adjusting her sari over her shoulder and moving with the same slow grace that Rehana had admired from the very first day she had arrived at Shona, perched on high heels with a book under her arm.
They decided to take a long ferry route, crossing the border in Rajshahi, floating downstream on the Padma River, passing Kushtia, Pabna, and Faridpur. The journey would take two days, and they were expected to arrive late on Wednesday night after transferring to a train in Faridpur. Sohail would stay at Shona’s, and on Thursday, Joy would come to help dig up the rifles buried beside the rosebushes. On Friday, after sunset, they planned to take out the power grid.
Sohail, Maya, and Rehana spent most of the journey on the ferry deck, sitting on a bench that hugged the left side of the boat. The wind roared past their ears, making it difficult to breathe or speak. When they did speak, their words were carried away by the air or the water below, with the river stretching out like the sea. The banks were so distant that they were barely visible, marked only by grey lines on the horizon and occasional details, such as a group of seagulls or a fisherman’s boat.
The ferry stopped in Pabna, where Maya ran across the gangplank to get a snack. Sohail, reflecting on Silvi, asked, “What do you think she’ll do?” Rehana responded, saying she did not know. Sohail continued, saying that sometimes people love others more after they have died, though it is also possible to forget them. He explained his feelings, stating that Silvi had been acting strangely, and he felt her slipping away. Rehana told him he had to wait.
Maya returned, calling out to them and holding a newspaper cone filled with jhaal moori, a spicy snack. Sohail took some but found it too spicy, joking about needing water. Maya quickly went to their cabin to get a flask. As she did so, the view outside revealed huts and tenements along the riverbank, tilting toward the water, worn down by the annual floods. Each monsoon, the river claimed parts of the land, taking with it houses, belongings, and even families, only for the houses to be rebuilt the next year. The cycle of destruction and rebuilding was inevitable, and each new year brought fresh hope along with the same repeated devastation.
Maya returned with the flask, teasing Sohail about his inability to handle the spice. As the ferry horn blared, Sohail joked about Maya’s strong stomach, and the ferry pulled away, leaving a white wake behind it.
Maya then asked Sohail about what he ate during his time away. Sohail replied that he ate whatever was given to him but could talk the cook into providing extra food. Maya teased him about using his charm for selfish reasons. He smiled in return, and she smiled back, briefly reminding Rehana of a time when their faces were unmarked by grief or history.
Upon arriving in Faridpur, Sohail crouched on all fours and kissed the silty shore. He asked Rehana, “Will you talk to her?” Rehana replied that she would visit the next day. Sohail then went to a sweetshop, returning with a box of shondesh, a traditional Bengali sweet. The sweetmaker, a lean man with a protruding belly, had tied the box with pink string matching the shop’s logo. Sohail explained that the sweetmaker was Muslim, as all the sweetmakers in the country were now. He also mentioned that Rehana liked the molasses shondesh better, but they would have to wait until winter for that variety.
Rehana wakes up on Thursday morning feeling a subtle difference in the atmosphere, even though the house remains familiar to her. The house holds the familiar scent of mothballs and the sight of her old wedding bed, which she had used to rest the previous night after their long train journey. She had kissed Sohail on the cheek and sent him to sleep in Shona’s room, where he fell asleep with his slippers still hanging from his toes. Rehana hears her daughter, Maya, breathing softly beside her, and she rises from bed, pulling her hair into a knot. She crosses to the kitchen and drinks a glass of water.
As she sips, she steps into the side porch of the house. This is her brief moment of solitude, a time when she is alone with herself and not responsible for anyone else. She savors this time, knowing it will only last a few minutes. The morning air is heavy with the remnants of the night. She quickly ducks into the bathroom, splashes water on her hands and eyes, and prays on the mat, asking for protection for her children, forgiveness, and the hope that she might see a certain man today, though she cannot bring herself to utter his name.
After the prayer, Rehana hurries to prepare breakfast, as tomorrow marks the beginning of Ramzaan, when they will fast from dawn until sunset. She mixes flour and water, enjoying the rhythm of kneading the dough, and rolls out chapattis, which she stacks and covers with a damp cloth. The kitchen glows with the orange light of the morning sun.
Returning to the bedroom, Rehana tries to wake Maya. Maya is reluctant to rise, preferring to stay tucked under the blanket. Rehana urges her to get up, and Maya agrees after some coaxing. They briefly talk about the significance of the day, and Maya expresses concern about Rehana’s well-being, which Rehana reassures her about, mentioning the doctor’s help. Maya then shares a serious thought with her mother. She wants to talk about the year they spent in Lahore, a period they have never discussed. Rehana becomes emotional, but Maya comforts her, assuring her that the time in Lahore was not as bad as Rehana might have thought. Maya reveals that the hardest part was not being able to remember Rehana’s face, a detail that saddens Rehana deeply.
Later, after bathing and washing clothes, Rehana and Maya go to visit Mrs. Chowdhury across the street. Mrs. Chowdhury greets them warmly at the gate, remarking on Rehana’s thin appearance. Rehana explains she had been ill with jaundice after spending time at refugee camps. Maya adds that Mrs. Sengupta was there, prompting Mrs. Chowdhury to express surprise. Rehana explains that she tried to help Mrs. Sengupta but could not bring her back. She also mentions that Mrs. Sengupta’s husband, or “mia,” had something terrible happen to him, but she withholds details. Mrs. Chowdhury expresses sorrow over the losses everyone has suffered.
Silvi, Mrs. Chowdhury’s daughter, enters with tea and snacks. She wears a scarf tightly knotted around her chin, her hair neatly tucked away. She serves the tea, and Mrs. Chowdhury expresses condolences over a telegram they received about someone named Sabeer, offering her sympathy.
Silvi whispered, “It’s God’s will,” as she knelt in front of a tray, asking Rehana if she wanted sugar for her tea. Rehana requested two sugars and a little milk, while Maya asked for one chini (sugar) and no milk. Silvi, who had been making tea for Rehana since she was young, passed the tea around.
Mrs. Chowdhury, reclining with her feet up on an ottoman, began speaking about a boy who had been ill. She described how his fingers had turned blue due to gangrene, requiring both hands to be amputated. She recalled a night when the boy had suddenly smiled beautifully, as though seeing God’s eyes, before he passed away.
Rehana felt a lurch in her stomach as Maya, holding a teacup, asked Silvi if she knew what happened to the boy and how he had been captured. Silvi appeared not to hear the question, focusing on arranging nimki (snack) on a plate. Maya repeated the question louder, but Silvi only passed the plate to Mrs. Chowdhury.
Mrs. Chowdhury sighed, commenting that Silvi’s silence was strange. Maya insisted that Silvi needed to be confronted about her past. Silvi responded, saying that her husband’s actions during the war were his business, and it had nothing to do with her. Maya challenged Silvi, questioning her loyalty to Bangladesh, which Silvi dismissed, stating that not everyone shared Maya’s beliefs. Silvi then stood, lifting the tray, and exited the room.
Maya was frustrated, stating that Silvi was acting strangely. Rehana agreed with Maya, feeling a pang of envy at how easily Maya spoke her mind. Silvi returned with a plate of shondesh (sweets), and the argument resumed. Silvi criticized the ongoing war as a pointless waste of life, while Maya sharply countered that Pakistan’s army had massacred people, driving them out of their country.
Silvi, in a calm tone, stated that Pakistan was meant to stay united and that separating the country was a sin. Maya angrily retorted that the sin was against the people of Bangladesh. Silvi defended her views, asserting that sacrifices had to be made for peace. Maya accused Silvi of siding with the army, and her emotional outburst seemed to calm Silvi, who remained serene. Mrs. Chowdhury, exhausted, leaned back in her chair.
Silvi calmly stated that she wanted to believe in something greater than herself, to which Maya sharply replied that she too wanted to believe in something but could not because of the war. Rehana, attempting to defuse the tension, urged Silvi to focus on taking care of her mother and surviving the war. Silvi responded respectfully, thanking Rehana.
Later, at the bungalow, Sohail was waiting. Maya, visibly upset, shouted about Silvi’s behavior, expressing disbelief that someone she had known her whole life could hold such views. Sohail, confused, asked what had happened. Maya, tearful and breathless, demanded to know how Silvi could hold such beliefs.
Rehana explained that Maya was upset because Silvi refused to acknowledge the war or its impact. Maya, frustrated, stormed out. Rehana and Sohail discussed Silvi’s views, with Rehana mentioning that Silvi thought the division of the country was a sin. Sohail, still in disbelief, seemed to think Rehana had misunderstood.
Maya returned, struggling to compose herself. She confronted Sohail, asking if he still loved Silvi. Sohail weakly denied it, shaking his head, while Rehana warned Maya against pressing him further. Maya’s accusation hung in the air as the tension in the room deepened.
Maya speaks to Sohail in a thick, fierce voice, urging him to make an important decision. She emphasizes the urgency of the moment, telling him that it is now that he must choose what is more important to him. She mentions that the girl he is focused on, with her misguided politics, is not thinking about him, and yet Sohail has risked everything for her. Maya begs him to let the girl go for the sake of everyone involved. Sohail responds quietly, whispering, “Don’t question my loyalty.” Maya clarifies that she is not questioning his loyalty but his judgment.
For a brief moment, Sohail looks as though he might become confrontational with Maya, perhaps intending to argue about devotion, love, and the country. Instead, he approaches her and wraps his arms around her. He admits that she is right, his shoulders shaking as he acknowledges her point.
The time is late, and Sohail is waiting for Joy at Shona, as they plan to dig up the guns. Rehana, speaking to Maya, reminds her that they need to prepare for Sehri, the pre-dawn meal before fasting. She asks Maya what she would like to eat. Maya, still tearful, responds that she does not know and asks if they must fast. Rehana affirms that they must, particularly on this day. Maya, though clearly upset, does not argue this time and takes the glass of water that Rehana offers her. As she drinks, more tears fall, and she struggles to hold back her emotions.
Rehana chides Maya gently, reminding her that there are more pressing concerns to focus on. Maya apologizes, stating that she cannot help her emotions. She explains that the situation hurts her deeply, indicating her chest when she says, “It wounds me here.” Maya then mentions that the boys will arrive in a few hours.
Rehana parted the curtains and observed from the drawing-room window as Joy and Sohail entered through the back gate and circled the rosebush. It was difficult to see due to the moonless night, but she recognized Joy’s large figure and Sohail, who was carrying a shovel and a hurricane lamp. Rehana felt a brief moment of disappointment, though she had not expected the Major to be with them.
Joy lit the lamp, and Sohail began digging. After several minutes, they switched places, with Sohail holding the lamp while Joy crouched down and worked at the earth. The silt piled beside them as they continued their task. Eventually, they paused, and Joy leaned over the hole, laying flat on his stomach and pulling at something. Rehana could barely make out his face, strained with effort.
After a struggle, Joy managed to pull out a rectangular wooden box, discolored from long burial. Just as they retrieved it, the sounds of a scattered, staccato drumroll followed by gunfire filled the air. The noise grew louder, and the boys crouched low, their heads dipping. Joy quickly raised the box above his shoulders and stood up, moving swiftly behind the mango tree, waiting for Sohail, who was crawling towards him. The two of them became indistinguishable shadows as they rustled through the branches and vanished.
Rehana’s heart began to pound, and her breath fogged up the closed window. The drumming intensified, and she froze, staring at the empty garden, the hole they had left like a shout under the rosebush.
Maya entered the room, her hands dusted white with flour. She asked, “What’s going on?” Rehana moved to the other side of the room with Maya, and they peered through the windows facing the road. A convoy of trucks sped down the street. Soldiers in green stood on the backs of the trucks, waving their guns in the air, shouting, “Pakistan Zindabad!” As the last truck passed, a young soldier with thick black hair pointed his gun at the bungalow. His expression seemed to say, “I could kill you right now.”
Rehana quickly shut the curtain and asked, “Did you see that?” Maya reassured her, “It’s just a show of force, Ma. It doesn’t mean anything.” Rehana, however, questioned, “But why here? It’s just a small road. That soldier was pointing right at us.” Maya explained that the soldiers were likely anticipating India’s support for the freedom fighters, and they were preparing for the end. People were increasingly talking about the end of the war, though Rehana still felt uncertain. Sohail had expressed his belief that the end was near, and while Rehana had not fully believed him, she had relaxed into his words and the sensation of his cool hand on her forehead.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Without the distraction of meals, Friday felt long and drawn out. Rehana went about her usual tasks — washing, preparing for Sehri and Iftar, airing out the house, collecting and boiling water, and cleaning. Despite the routine, a cold fear lingered at the back of her mind.
Sohail left in the afternoon, his face impassive as Rehana kissed his forehead and recited a prayer for his safety. Fear gripped her as she felt the weight of it in her neck, in her temple, and in the tremor of her hand as she fried the Iftar food: Beguni, chickpeas and tomatoes, dalpuri, orange juice, tamarind juice, and lassi. The meal was neither elaborate enough for a special occasion nor simple enough to signal want — it was a meal for an ordinary day, a day without war.
They ate in silence, their fingers working the pooris with quiet slaps. Afterward, Maya retrieved the kerosene lamp from under the bed. Rehana insisted she put it away, but Maya argued it might be needed when the power went out. Rehana refused, stating they did not know the power would go out, but Maya retorted that it certainly would.
With the shadows of evening stretching across the bungalow, Rehana and Maya tried to tune into the radio, but only static filled the air. Maya offered to sing a song, and Rehana, unexpectedly moved, agreed. Maya sang “Amar Shonar Bangla.”
By nine o’clock, darkness enveloped the house, with only the crescent moon visible. They held their breath, waiting for the lights to go out. Rehana considered what she might do then — perhaps count the medicines and blankets in Sohail’s room, or start a letter to her sisters. But she knew she could not write an honest letter. Any letter she sent would be full of lies, and replying would only force her to confront the reality of her situation. She decided against writing.
Maya was fidgeting with the dinner plates, stacking them carelessly. Her mother, Rehana, told her to leave them, but Maya insisted on making sure. Maya then threw herself onto the sofa beside Rehana. Rehana responded that they would wait. Maya, impatient with waiting, remarked that there was nothing to do. Rehana suggested playing rummy, which made Maya’s face brighten. Maya recalled that they had not played since Sohail had started beating her at the game. She tried to explain that Sohail had discovered poetry that year, but Rehana corrected her, stating that there was a period of time when Maya refused to play with him at all. They both laughed, reminiscing about Sohail’s behavior and how he always let Silvi win at badminton.
Maya agreed to fetch the cards, but Rehana changed her mind, deciding she wanted to read instead. Maya nodded and went to Sohail’s room to select a book. She returned shortly with a slim volume and suggested they have tea. Rehana agreed, saying she would read Iqbal’s Baal-e-Jibreel, while Maya chose Tagore’s Gitanjali. They climbed into bed with their tea and books. Rehana started reading from the beginning of her book, while Maya slowly flipped through the poems in Gitanjali, reading the title of each one before beginning. Maya paused on her favorite poem, “Amar E Gaan,” while Rehana reached a poem she enjoyed as well, “Kya Kahun Apne Chaman.”
The overhead light and fan were left on as they continued to read, keeping their pages rustling. At some point, they heard a sound in the distance that seemed like thunder. Maya leapt to the window, hopeful it was a sign that something had happened, but the lights were still on. She wondered if whatever they were waiting for had failed. Rehana ignored her, and Maya reluctantly returned to bed, picking up her book again. By 12:20, after finishing Baal-e-Jibreel, Rehana checked her watch. Maya, now feeling regretful for choosing a shorter book, slipped Gitanjali under her pillow and went to brush her teeth.
While Maya was walking out with the empty teacups, a sudden thud and flickering light signaled the arrival of the moment they had been waiting for. The power went out, and Maya shouted with excitement, confirming that “they” had done it. They laughed and fell asleep in their clothes.
Later, Rehana heard a sound and felt someone approaching. It was a man, who motioned for silence. He kissed her, then lifted her into his arms and carried her swiftly through the garden gate and into Shona’s house. The man set her down in Mithun’s room, sitting in a chair just beyond her reach. Rehana asked what had happened, where Sohail was, and why the man had come. He confirmed that “they” had done it, explaining that he had to see her. He mentioned that she had suddenly disappeared, just like he had, with no letters sent.
Rehana hears rustling sounds as the man beside her manipulates something in his bag, followed by the scratch of a match being struck. He holds the match steady until it burns down, then discards it. Striking another match, she feels its warmth and the distinct smell of sulfur before he extinguishes it. He speaks, noting her pale appearance, and she replies, explaining that she had jaundice. His whispered words send a soft breath over her eyes. Rehana feels a sob rise in her throat, but she stifles it, allowing her tears to fall. Before they can drop from her chin, his hands catch them and spread them gently on her cheek, like butter.
Rehana hears the movement of his tongue in his mouth, the sound so clear it feels as if it is her own. He kisses her, his lips softer than she had imagined. She feels his tongue explore her, knowing and deliberate. He unbuttons her blouse and kisses her chest, tracing a path across her breast and down her bone, in a slow, purposeful motion, like an aqueduct. The sensation is intense, leaving a burning trail. He places his thumb on her face, its pulse matching her own heartbeat. She turns her face and kisses his lip, resisting the urge to bite it.
Time seems to stretch, and in the background, a tiktiki bird cackles from the ceiling. The faint light of the moon illuminates his square face and wiry hair. Rehana has an urge to tell him how foolish he is for coming, but she fears that doing so would reveal that she had wanted it as much as he did. He speaks again, telling her he must leave before sunrise for Sehri. He brushes a strand of hair from her face and warns her not to tell him when she will return, or he will be left holding his breath. He touches her collarbone with his thumb, and she nods, her head dipping slightly in acknowledgment.
He urges her to take care of his son, and Rehana crosses the garden towards the bungalow, passing the mango and lemon trees, the rosebush, and the hydrangeas. Inside the bungalow, Maya is sprawled across the bed. Rehana heads for the kitchen but instead decides to lie down, waiting for sunrise. As she closes her eyes, she remembers the moment she just experienced. The ceiling fan moves slightly in the November air, and the scents of him linger on her skin: his watermelon breath and burned-rubber sweat.
She hears trucks approaching and slowing in front of the bungalow, signaling the arrival of the army. She prepares to wake Maya and move to the drawing room. The trucks come to a stop, and Rehana knows she has time to gather herself. As the soldiers disembark, she reflects on the danger of the moment. They are not focused on her or Maya; their eyes are fixed on Shona, their purpose clear. Rehana prays silently for Shona’s safety.
The soldiers enter the bungalow, stomping through the rooms with heavy boots. They wreak havoc, tearing books from shelves, smashing dinner plates, knocking over a brass lamp, and ravaging the cupboards. They rip posters from Sohail’s bedroom—one of Mao and another of Che Guevara — and violently stab a pillow, scattering yellow cotton like dandelion seeds. Despite the destruction, no one attempts to stop them. Through the haze of the autumn morning, the sun rises slowly and carefully.
A shout went up, signaling “All clear!” The soldiers lined up and stood at attention as a man entered, his hand resting on his gun. He introduced himself as Colonel Jabeen, speaking in strained, rehearsed English. He informed Rehana that he had an order to search her premises and arrest her son, Sohail Haque. Rehana felt uneasy as the sound of boots thudding on the bungalow roof echoed, and she gripped Maya’s hand, which was hot and slippery.
Alongside Colonel Jabeen stood another man, who leaned out the window and spat into the hydrangeas. His eyes focused on Maya, and he looked her up and down, licking his lips. Maya stared back, her palms wet with nervousness. Colonel Jabeen did not speak Bangla but instead spoke in Urdu. He shouted into the spitting man’s ear, and the man translated his words to Rehana, telling her to give up her son.
Rehana responded in Bangla, looking at the spitting man while addressing Jabeen. She explained that her son was in Karachi, with her sister Marzia, and suggested they could verify this by sending someone there. The spitting man then insulted Sohail, calling him a “bastard” in Urdu. Colonel Jabeen did not respond immediately, but after a pause, he stated that there was no misunderstanding and that her son was a traitor to Pakistan. The spitting man repeated the accusation in Bangla.
The soldiers returned from various parts of the house and garden, bringing with them boxes of clothes, saris to be turned into kathas, and medical supplies. One soldier righted an upturned chair, and Colonel Jabeen sat down heavily. The soldiers laid the boxes at Rehana’s feet, creating a “graveyard of evidence.” Rehana explained that they had been collecting donations for refugees. She gripped Maya’s hand again, but Maya remained silent.
The spitting man informed Rehana that they knew about the hidden guns beneath the rosebushes. Rehana opened her mouth to respond, but the spitting man interrupted, stating they already knew everything. She repeated that her son was in Karachi and pulled Maya closer to her. Colonel Jabeen whispered something into the spitting man’s ear, and after a brief exchange, Jabeen turned to Rehana, stating that she had more than one child. Rehana felt her legs weaken, but she managed to stand by focusing on the strength of her bones.
Jabeen then ordered the spitting man to take Maya into the other room. Maya whispered to Rehana, expressing her reluctance to go. The spitting man approached Rehana, a pair of handcuffs clattering in his hands. Rehana hesitated, hoping for a moment to think of something. She saw a dangerous hunger in Jabeen’s eyes and decided to use her only card.
Rehana addressed Jabeen in perfect, native Urdu, asking if this was truly how he wanted to wage war. Jabeen, surprised, wiped sweat from his forehead, acknowledging that she spoke Urdu. The spitting man continued to tug at Maya’s elbow, but Maya resisted. Jabeen ordered the spitting man to stop, and for a brief moment, he delayed the action, clearly taking pleasure in the tension.
Jabeen then instructed a sergeant to search the garden and neighborhood again, arresting anyone suspicious. The spitting man hesitated but obeyed the order, signaling the soldiers to leave the bungalow, leaving Rehana and Maya alone with Jabeen in the sweltering afternoon heat.
Jabeen crouched and intertwined his fingers in the hair of the man lying on the ground. He lifted the man’s head and turned to Maya, asking her if the man was her brother. Maya did not respond and instead pushed urgently against Rehana’s arm. Jabeen repeated his question, insisting that she identify the man. The Major, struggling to breathe, urged her to tell them the truth.
Maya recalled a moment from the past when she had shared a deeply personal secret with the Major. The secret was not about political matters, family wealth, stolen jewellery, or even her hidden affection for cinema. It was about her children and the extent of her devotion to them. She had confessed that she would go to any length for their sake. That was her most profound secret – a desperate, consuming love.
With that confession, she had given him power over her. He now held her children metaphorically in his grasp, as if breathing life into them through her vulnerability. She had made the choice to share this with him. She had asked him to carry her burden, and from that moment, everything had followed naturally. Her love for her children had overwhelmed all other affections, layered upon each other like clouds in a heated sky.
In that instant, she regretted telling him. She wished to take back the knowledge she had once freely given. But he had accepted it. He had told her he was grateful and had been waiting his entire life for that moment. He repeated that it was the most significant thing he had ever done and urged her to speak.
She finally spoke. She gave him her blessing. She said, “God be with you, my son.” He responded, “And you. My mother.” In that exchange, their roles and sacrifices became clear: her life in exchange for his.
The Sergeant grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him away. He walked with a dragging, uneven gait, restrained by handcuffs. Maya tried to pull Rehana away from the window, but Rehana stood still, refusing to move. She believed she owed the man her gaze and remained fixed in place, watching him as he was taken.
She stared intently as a black hood was placed over his head. Despite the covering, she believed he could still see her through it, through the heart-shaped grille of the window, into the bungalow, and into her eyes. She wanted him to understand everything she felt and everything she was in that moment. Her gaze was a final act of belonging and silent communication as he disappeared from view.
Rehana walks through her garden in the early morning, observing the winter flowers she had planted at the beginning of the war – champa, bokul, rojonigondha, yellow roses, and the hibiscus bush by the boundary wall. Dawn is breaking, and she anticipates the phone calls and visitors who will soon come to congratulate her and share their survival stories. For now, it is still and quiet, disturbed only by the sound of crows. She wraps a shawl around her shoulders and carefully crosses the garden, something she has not done since the day the Major was taken. She has barely left her bungalow or looked out at Shona’s resting place since then.
In her thoughts, she begins speaking directly to her deceased husband, starting with:
“Dear Husband,
The war will end today.”
She walks through the empty bungalow, finding that Maya has cleaned and cleared everything. She sees the rose-petal carpet rolled up and pushed to a corner. In Mithun’s room, the gramophone, projector, and records are gone, the shelves wiped clean. Only his bed remains, neatly made with a colorful bedspread. She bends to straighten it, remembering how she used to do the same. On the floor, she finds an empty Blue Lion matchbox, which Mithun had used to light a match and look at her face. She recalls his gesture in vivid detail.
She opens the curtains, leaves the house, and locks the door. At the bungalow, she steps onto her prayer mat and begins to pray, asking God for mercy and forgiveness. Maya, brushing her hair, offers to accompany her, but Rehana declines and tells her to go with Sohail later. Maya reminds her that they need to attend the treaty signing at Shaheed Minar.
On her rickshaw ride through Gulistan and Purano Polton, Rehana notices the streets filling with people. Every time a plane flies overhead, the crowd cheers. In her mind, she repeats,
“Dear husband, the war will end today,”
rehearsing the words she wants to say to him. She reflects on the nine long months of war, filled with death and survival. Sohail has returned alive, though his friends have died. She is going to visit the man who had lived in her home for ninety-six days – a man with a scar across his face who passed through her life like a storm.
At a building guarded by a teenage boy with a rifle, she introduces herself as Mrs Haque. The boy greets her respectfully and leads her through a damaged interior filled with overturned furniture, torn paper, and broken glass. Another boy, even younger, guards the cells. After a short exchange, she is led to a dark, filthy cell at the end of a corridor.
Inside, Faiz appears, shackled at the wrists and ankles. His left eye is swollen shut. He recognizes her and pleads for help, believing she has come to free him. Rehana remains silent, overwhelmed by the filth, the sound of chains, and the memory of what Faiz has done. He asks about Sohail, and she assures him that he is fine. Faiz continues to beg for forgiveness, telling her that she could secure his release with a single word. Rehana considers it. She imagines herself forgiving him, sending him back to Pakistan, telling him that only God can judge him.
However, when she recalls the faces of the dead – Joy, Aref, Mrs Sengupta – and especially the pain in Maya’s eyes when she learned of Sharmeen’s death, she makes her decision. She says,
“I cannot forgive you, brother. For my daughter I cannot forgive you.”
Then she turns away, and the door is locked behind her. She hears his fists on the door and his cries fading behind her.
She walks to Iqbal’s grave. Alone in the graveyard, she clears fallen leaves from his headstone. Then she resumes the inner monologue that she began earlier, addressing him directly again:
“Dear Husband,
I came to tell you the story of our war and how we have lived.
The war will end today.”
She tells him that she has aged, that she is tired and worn but still alive. She confesses that she had briefly loved the man who lived in their house for ninety-six days. She admits that she told him everything about her past – how she became a thief, a widow, and lost her children. She explains that she made a conscious decision not to run to the police to save the Major. Instead, she allowed them to think they had captured Sohail, and thus let the Major take his place. She asks her husband for forgiveness, as well as forgiveness from God.
She describes the celebratory scene she anticipates later that day: walking into the street with Maya, flags waving, crowds cheering, dancing, music, and the song “How I love you, my golden Bengal.” She imagines holding the flag, standing breathless, waiting for Sohail.
In closing, she acknowledges the moral weight of her actions. She says that the war has spared her son and her daughter.
“I have not let it,” she declares, taking full responsibility for her choices.
THEMATIC CONCERNS
1.1 Personal Affection vs. National Obligation
The novel’s protagonist, Rehana Haque, embodies the tension between love and duty. As a mother, her primary concern is the safety of her children, Sohail and Maya, both of whom become actively involved in the independence movement. Rehana’s maternal love compels her to protect them, yet she also recognizes their commitment to the nationalist cause. This conflict is central to her character arc —she must reconcile her personal fears with her growing sense of responsibility toward the broader struggle for liberation.
Anam illustrates this struggle through Rehana’s actions:
- Initially, she tries to keep her children away from the war, fearing for their lives.
- However, as the war intensifies, she begins aiding the resistance, sheltering guerrillas and even helping smuggle arms.
- Her transformation from a protective mother to an active participant in the movement demonstrates how love for her children evolves into a larger duty toward her nation.
1.2 Familial Bonds and Sacrifice
The novel also explores how familial relationships are tested by war. Rehana’s past— losing custody of her children due to financial instability — haunts her, making her even more determined to keep them safe. Yet, she ultimately accepts that their political commitments supersede her personal desires.
- Sohail’s involvement in the guerrilla movement forces Rehana to confront her own political passivity.
- Maya’s defiance of traditional gender roles (working as a journalist and activist) challenges Rehana’s conservative expectations.
- The death of Major Farooq, a family friend and freedom fighter, underscores the brutal costs of war, reinforcing the sacrifices demanded by duty.
This emotional landscape is further complicated by Rehana’s romantic feelings for Major Farooq, which remain unfulfilled due to his wartime obligations. Their relationship symbolizes how personal love is often deferred or destroyed in times of national crisis.
2.1 Women’s Resilience and Agency in a Patriarchal Society
Rehana’s character subverts traditional gender expectations. As a widow, she navigates a society that marginalizes women, yet she asserts her independence by managing property, making financial decisions, and eventually participating in the war effort.
- Economic Independence: Rehana’s struggle to reclaim her children after her husband’s death highlights the systemic oppression of women in legal and financial matters. Her eventual success in regaining custody demonstrates her quiet resilience.
- Political Participation: Unlike many women of her time, Rehana moves beyond domestic confines, aiding the Mukti Bahini (liberation fighters). Her home becomes a site of resistance, blurring the line between private and political spheres.
2.2 Transnational Identity and Belonging
The novel also examines how war disrupts notions of home and identity, particularly for women.
- Rehana’s Urdu-speaking background complicates her sense of belonging in East Pakistan (later Bangladesh). Her linguistic identity makes her both an insider and outsider in the nationalist movement.
- The war forces migration and displacement, as seen when Rehana briefly flees to Calcutta. This exile underscores the fragility of home for women in conflict zones.
- The Partition of 1947 looms in the background, reminding characters that national borders are fluid and that identity is often shaped by violence and upheaval.
Anam thus presents identity as a contested, evolving concept, particularly for women caught between tradition and revolution.
2.3 Rehana: Motherhood vs. Political Agency
Rehana’s character challenges traditional gender expectations. At first, she appears to fit the image of the ideal Muslim mother — concerned mostly with her children’s safety and happiness. However, as the war continues, she changes.
Early Passivity: Rehana initially stays out of politics and focuses on protecting her family. She represents the socially accepted role of the quiet, obedient widow who avoids conflict and public life.
Awakening Agency: As the conflict deepens, Rehana begins to take more risks. She hides resistance fighters in her home and secretly supports the independence movement. These actions show her transformation into a political actor who makes her own choices.
Sexuality and Autonomy: Rehana’s romantic relationship with Major Farooq, a fellow rebel, also reflects her growth. In a conservative society where widows are expected to remain emotionally passive, her affair signals a reclaiming of personal desire and freedom.
2.4 Maya: The New Feminist Revolutionary
Maya, Rehana’s daughter, represents a younger generation of women who reject traditional roles. She is a strong, politically active woman who pushes back against social norms.
Maya’s Radicalism: Rehana’s daughter, Maya, represents the younger generation of Bangladeshi women who reject traditional roles. Her journalism and activism challenge both colonial and patriarchal structures, illustrating the changing dynamics of female identity in wartime.
Defying Tradition: As a communist and a journalist, Maya dresses plainly and donates her clothes to the poor. Her choices reflect a commitment to equality and a rejection of gender expectations, such as beauty and domesticity.
Generational Conflict: Rehana and Maya often disagree. Rehana is worried about Maya’s safety and is unsure about her radical ideas. These tensions show the clash between older and newer ways of thinking about women’s roles in society and politics.
2.5 Feminist Hermeneutics (Om Prakash Dwivedi)
Anam rewrites the role of women in war, not as silent sufferers but as active agents of change.
From Victims to Agents: Rehana’s rescue of Sabir, a young man being tortured, reflects her resistance to both political and patriarchal violence. She acts bravely in a moment of danger, going beyond the role of a caregiver.
Liminality: The women in the novel often operate in “in-between” spaces. Rehana’s home, traditionally seen as a private, feminine space, becomes a place of political resistance. This challenges the idea that politics only happen in public or male-dominated spaces.
3.1 Personal Stories as Metaphors for National Struggle
Fredric Jameson’s concept of the “national allegory” applies here, where individual narratives symbolize larger historical forces. Rehana’s journey mirrors Bangladesh’s own fight for independence:
- Loss and Reclamation: Just as Rehana loses and regains her children, Bangladesh struggles to break free from Pakistan’s oppressive rule.
- Transformation from Passivity to Resistance: Rehana’s political awakening reflects the broader mobilization of Bengali civilians against West Pakistani domination.
- Sacrifice for Freedom: The deaths of characters like Major Farooq and the brutal violence inflicted on civilians parallel the real historical costs of the Liberation War.
3.2 The Home as a Microcosm of the Nation
Rehana’s house becomes a symbolic space – it symbolizes the changing face of the nation during war:
- Initially a site of personal grief (after her husband’s death).
- Later a refuge for freedom fighters, transforming into a political stronghold.
- Finally, a space of mourning and memory after the war’s end.
Domestic to Political: A space once meant for family life becomes a place where rebels meet and organize. This shift shows how private life and public politics often overlap during national crises.
Symbol of Resilience: Rehana’s home, once associated with loss and grief (after her husband’s death), becomes a space of courage and hope. It reflects the strength of ordinary people during extraordinary times.
This transformation mirrors Bangladesh’s own journey — from a colonized territory to a war-torn land, and finally, to an independent nation grappling with its newfound freedom.
3.3 The Personal as Political
The story of Rehana’s personal life mirrors the struggle of Bangladesh as a new nation.
Loss and Reclamation: Just as Rehana tries to reunite and protect her children, Bangladesh is trying to free itself from Pakistani control. Her emotional journey reflects the national desire for independence and identity.
Sacrifice: The death of Major Farooq, with whom Rehana forms a close bond, represents the human cost of war. His death adds emotional depth to the political narrative, connecting individual suffering to national trauma.
4.1 The Fragmented Homeland
The novel explores how political conflicts break apart the idea of a stable homeland. For the main character, Rehana Haque, the division of Pakistan into East and West becomes personal. Her family is split between two political ideologies— her brother-in-law in Lahore supports a united Pakistan, while Rehana and her children support the Bengali independence movement. This division within the family reflects the larger national conflict of the Bangladesh Liberation War, where differences in language and culture — such as Bengali versus Urdu — led to war and separation.
Displacement and Exile: During the war, Rehana takes temporary shelter in Calcutta. This shows how war can make one’s home unsafe and unstable, forcing people to leave familiar places behind. Her displacement highlights how fragile the idea of “home” can be during times of conflict.
Linguistic Identity: Rehana speaks Urdu fluently, which complicates her identity. While she supports Bengali nationalism, her ability to speak the language of the Pakistani state marks her as both an insider and outsider. This duality shows how identity is not always simple and can be influenced by language, culture, and personal history.
Postmemory (Marianne Hirsch): As a diasporic author, Anam did not directly experience the war but writes about it through memories passed down by her family. This idea of postmemory refers to how the second generation inherits and reshapes traumatic historical events through stories, photographs, and emotional legacy. Anam, living outside Bangladesh, expresses a deep connection to the country’s past, a kind of “long-distance love affair” common among diasporic communities.
4.2 The Diasporic Writer’s Lens
Anam writes as a transnational author — someone who lives between cultures and countries. This position allows her to view history from both inside and outside.
Historical Reconstruction: The story of A Golden Age is inspired by Anam’s grandmother’s personal experiences during the war. By combining real memories with fictional elements, Anam creates a powerful narrative that blends oral history with literature.
Critique of Nationalist Homogeneity: The internal disagreements within the Haque family challenge the idea that all Muslims in Pakistan shared a common identity. Anam shows that religion alone could not hold the country together. Her portrayal of these divisions questions simplified ideas of national unity and highlights the complex identities within the Muslim population post-Partition.
Anam’s novel speaks across borders and generations. It reflects the experience of those who live between nations, languages, and histories.
Diasporic Memory: The novel shows how history is passed down through families and remembered in different ways by those who live far from the homeland.
Diasporic Reflections: Writing from outside Bangladesh, Anam offers a critical view of nationalism. She shows that while national pride is powerful, it can also hide problems like exclusion, corruption, and inequality.
Gendered Nationalism: Anam highlights how women’s contributions to revolutions are often forgotten. Through characters like Rehana and Maya, she restores their importance in national history.
Fluid Identities: The characters in A Golden Age do not fit into neat categories. They are Bengali and Urdu-speaking, mothers and rebels, traditional and modern. Their experiences reflect the complex identities shaped by colonialism, war, and migration in South Asia.
Corruption and Compromise: In the sequel The Good Muslim, Anam explores how hopes for a better future were often betrayed by political leaders. The dream of independence is followed by new forms of injustice.
- Miah, M. M. (2020). Tahmima Anam’s A Golden Age: A family saga of love, duty and identity against the backdrop of war. International Journal of Applied Linguistics and English Literature, 9(2), 74-81. https://doi.org/10.7575/aiac.ijalel.v.9n.2p.74
- Yeasmin, F. (2022). Reading Tahmima Anam’s postcolonial fiction – A Golden Age in the light of Fredric Jameson’s concept of ‘national allegory’. Bangladesh Journal of Advanced Humanities, 2(2), 15-22. https://doi.org/10.34104/bjah.022015022
- Ho, H. M. Y. (2025). Resilient women: Transnational homes and identities in Tahmima Anam’s A Golden Age. 10.4324/9781003582434-8
- Lauret-Taft, S. (2020). “You’re just a housewife. What on earth could you possibly do?”: The history of the Bangladesh war of independence told by women in Tahmima Anam’s A Golden Age. South Asian Review, 41(3-4), 287-302. https://scispace.com/pdf/you-re-just-a-housewife-what-on-earth-could-you-possibly-do-39llqutsmg.pdf
- Zipp, Y. (2008, January 8). “A Golden Age” tells of a mother’s love tangled by war. The Christian Science Monitor. https://www.csmonitor.com/Books/2008/0108/p14s01-bogn.html
- Anam, T. (2007). A Golden Age. HarperCollins.