The Wedding Ring
(Concluding part)
It was the turbulent days of 1971. Munir and I were deeply involved in the struggle against the Pakistani aggressors. Despite being government officers we had joined the Liberation War and had gone over to India crossing the border. We were in charge of organising the freedom fighters and presenting the facts of the war to the international community. We worked from a tin shed house with great enthusiasm leaving behind the pomp and splendour of our official positions back home.
We used to live in a house along with other government officials in a house in a small town in India across Satkhira of Bangladesh. One family lived in one room. Munir stayed in one room with three other bachelors. We could not sleep well at night as guns pounded away across the border. Everyday thousands of refugees streamed into the Indian side escaping attacks of the Pakistani army. We struggled to provide for the refugees. At the same time we were also worried because we heard that there might be Pakistani spies among the refugees. The spies could kill us if they found an opportunity. We did not sleep out of anxiety.
I had seen the wedding ring in those days of crisis in Munir's hands. It was a diamond ring that Munir would often look at. I asked Munir once what the ring was about. He told me the ring was for his would be bride, a third year honours student of Dhaka University to whom he was engaged. He would have been married to her by now had the war of liberation not started.
I was married. I was here with my wife and child even though the living was hard. But we were together. I sadly reflected on the plight of Munir. Poor guy! Perhaps his would-be father-in-law would not wait too long and marry his daughter off to someone else. There was no telling when this war would end. I wondered if Munir thought the same way when he looked at the ring now and then.
The Pakistanis were beaten at last. The flag of Bangladesh flew over the independent country. We all returned celebrating victory.
A few days later we heard that Munir's fiancée was married to a doctor in the meanwhile. Munir did not know where they lived, but it was somewhere in Dhaka.
As I reminisced in my bed that night I looked at my wife sleeping soundly by my side. She was weary from handling our rambunctious kid. She would not know that I was wide awake in the bed. I was thinking. Munir must have been remembering about the old ring when he was putting the ring on his bride. Why would his hand shake otherwise? Perhaps he was thinking when he could not keep with a ring, what are the chances that he could keep his new bride by his side with another ring? Should I blame Munir if his mind was racked by such thoughts? I wondered if this was the only reason why hand shook. Was there any other reason, I wondered.
Next day Munir called. It was exactly as I thought. Munir thought of the old ring when he was putting on the ring in bride's finger. A mystery of life is that people think of things at a time when these should not occur to them.
"You know my old fiancée also came to the wedding last night", Munir said. "She may be a friend of the family; she came as a member of the bride's party. I was pretty shaken when I saw her among the women in the party. My head was spinning."
I was completely taken aback. It took me some time to digest this information. "Are you sure you saw her?" I asked in a faltering tone. "It was no mistake", Munir replied. "I did not tell you before, but after our engagement I had taken her to a boat ride in Nayarhat."
As a well-wisher I advised Munir to forget the past and start his new life. Munir laughed over the phone and said, "Don't worry. I have forgotten the past. Two days ago I went to Nayarhat and threw the old ring into the river."
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