The last goodbye

In his own domain -- Nuhash Polli. Photo: Star

During his recent trip back home, before going back to New York for continuation of his medical treatment, I had an opportunity to meet Humayun Ahmed at Nuhash Polli. Here's an account of my last interaction with the master storyteller.
The scorching sun was heating up the ground, with no rain in sight for the past couple of days. Ignoring the glare of the burning sky, Humayun Ahmed sat on the green bed of grass. Meher Afroze Shaon kept calling him from inside the house. Ahmed -- busy talking to everyone -- ignored her requests. However he asked for a glass of water, which was promptly brought by Nuhash Polli manager, Bulbul. The author's son, Nishad, was playing nearby -- looking for a chance to run to the nearby garden. But Ahmed barred him from doing so, saying, “don't go there Baba, there are ghosts in the garden.”
A large crowd gathered round the popular author, about 20 of them coming from Netrokona -- teachers and guardians from Netrokona Shahid Muktijoddha High School. Ahmed sought blessings from his paternal uncle, one of those from Netrokona. The writer said to his uncle, “It's your prayers that has kept me alive for so long.”
Turning to others, he said, “The school's results must improve. How else would I proudly claim it to be my own school?”
He then opened a packet. Showing its contents to everyone, the author said, “These are seeds. I tried to grow them here, but failed to get any result. Hopefully this time the trees will grow.”
Ahmed walked around Nuhash Polli, followed by a crowd of admirers, including the owner of Anya Prakash, Mazharul Islam; playwright Shakur Majid etc. He picked a Jambura from a nearby tree. The nature-loving litterateur then went near his tea plants and stayed there for a while. Next destination was the pond at Nuhash Polli. Ahmed told us the pond is named 'Lilaboti' -- after his daughter. A seemingly glum Shaon said, “My little girl came to this world for a brief moment.” Ahmed spent a silent moment by the pond. Shaon asked whether he needed some shade; he refused.
After all the walking, it was time for Ahmed to return to the house. He told the manager to make sure that everyone had lunch. He went in, along with Mazharul Islam, Shakur Majid and me. Ahmed sat on the floor of the living room and called for some watermelon. We resumed our adda, as his children -- Nishad and Ninid -- played nearby.
Lunch arrived. As we all ate, Ahmed played the perfect host, asking us whether we had enough on our plates. Actress Tomalika Karmakar called me on the phone, and when I said that I'm at Nuhash Polli, she asked me to convey her regards to “Humayun bhai”. After lunch, the author took a nap. Shaon informed us that the amount of visitors and Ahmed's endless chats with them would only worsen his condition.
It was time to bid adieu after Ahmed woke up. I handed him a copy of a Daily Star report on Nuhash Polli. He said, “stay well”, as I said goodbye. Who knew this would be the last goodbye?