Two micro-stories of Mohammad Anwarul Kabir
Magician
He has on a worn-out Sherwani, a knee-length coat buttoning to the neck, with faded laces and patches here and there. A black hat covers his head. It appears that the clown from children's book has come alive. But he is not a clown. Meet the Magician who has been making his living by showing magic tricks in rural market places. His magic has earned him a couple of modifiers like "The Magic Emperor" and "The Magicsmith" that sit before and after the name given by his father.
Many of the villagers find it disrespectful to call him simply "Magician," without the suffix "Sir."
However, it has now been quite long since he earned a pocketful of money. It seems as if his fans have got bored of buying the same magic tricks over and over. They don't go near his shows unless they want to waste their coins. Even though today's fair seemed to have a healthy crowd, it hasn't brought him any luck with money. At the end of the day, he has come home empty-handed. And the lifeless, starving faces of his eight-year-old daughter and his wife welcome him as usual. Another day without food.
So, the Magician opens up his magic box just to put a smile on their faces. Flying his bright handkerchief in the air, he murmurs a spell. Magic!! A rose appears out of thin air and he hands it to his daughter and wife. They both are awestruck by it. All of a sudden, his daughter says, "Abba, bring us some saalun (curry) with your magic. For so many days we've been eating only plain rice."
Hapless murmuring
Mr. Jalil Bhuiyan, a teacher of Bhuanpur High school, is on his way back home from the market. It's 9 pm and the road is clear. It was quite late for a semi-urban town like this. His career as a teacher in Bhuapur School is about twelve years old. He knows everyone in the neighborhood. Many of them were his students. Besides, his zero belief in ghosts makes him walk around at night unhesitatingly. The road that leads to Fasalandi is a shortcut to his house. So, he begins walking along the road. After walking for some time he hears the screaming of a female voice coming from the other side of the mound of bricks covering a corner of the road. A helpless scream of "Save me! Please save me!" tears at his eardrums.
The voice sounds familiar. Is that Razia, the daughter of Mr. Kalam Byapari? She has graduated from high school this year. He rushes toward the mound. He is able to hear her growling noise along with the sound of struggle. Unexpectedly, his eyes falls on Hannan. Hannan works for the Chairman Shamim. Hannan used to be Mr. Jalil's student. But he had butchered his student life after coming in contact with some junkies. Now his life revolves around the Chairman Shamim. The moment he sees Mr. Jalil, he throws a salute at his former master, and says like an automaton, "The Chairman is in an operation. Now you sir, run! You saw nothing, you heard nothing!" And he starts petting his gun right after he stops talking.
Jalilbhuiyan lets a long sigh out and hurries to his house like a man possessed by a ghost. There is no one by his side, else anyone could hear him mutter, "I saw nothing… I heard nothing."
Mohammad AnwarulKabir is a poet and micro-story writer, presently teaching Computer Science at AIUB; Subarna Khan is an avid reader and also publishes her poems and short stories and book reviews on G+, Mirakee, Wattpad and many online platforms.
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