The Flyover*
There is a two- to three-hour long traffic jam right before and after the grand inauguration of the Mohakhali flyover. The traffic jam is because many high government officials plus security and law enforcement agency representatives are present at the grand event. Undoubtedly for the common run of people the whole thing appears to be a blockade or a battle of sorts taking place. Some of the people stuck in traffic are annoyed. There are also some who are waiting patiently; they think that afterwards the flyover will be a boon to all those who use this road often.
Shamim Chowdhury is one of those patient people sitting silently in their cars. His driver seems a bit annoyed, but Shamim calms him down.
Only a few days have passed since Shamim has retired from government service. Being a mid-level employee, he always had to face pressures from both his superior and subordinates. He used to wake up early in the morning to shower and have breakfast within a set time. Then he would wait for the official transport. Though it was a 9 to 5 job, he usually was the last to leave.
The slanting rays of the sun pierce through the cold morning and warm the inside of the car. While stuck in the traffic jam Shamim thinks of his retirement and pension money. He has planned to go to the Tongi bazaar today, where good fish could be found at reasonable prices.
Shamim is not sure how long the traffic jam near Cantonment-Shahinbag-Mohakhali area may last. Suddenly horns from various cars, tempos and mishuks start honking and jolt him from his contemplative mood. His driver Jahangir speaks up, "Now we can cross. There goes the Prime Minister!"
The car goes up on the flyover at a steady pace. Shamim feels lighter as he goes upward slowly. He looks on the left side of the rise--various signboards, the RAOWA club building, the DOHS, a train passing under the flyover with its whistle blowing. The experience of getting a bird's-eye view of the busy city is delightful. Shamim's childhood flashes in front of his eyes. In the empty blue sky of the village, a lonely Bhubon cheel floats on its wings. It turns its head to observe the ponds, trees and houses below. From the flyover, Shamim is also watching everything like a cheel. Right at that moment, he thought of Bilkis. She must see this! Rabeya will also like this place a lot.
Bilkis arrived late in their lives, after fifteen years of their marriage when all hopes of a child had died. They used to sigh, "Who knows what Allah has in store for us?" Now Bilkis was never out of the sight of her parents from the moment she woke up till going to sleep at night.
Their daughter is almost thirteen, but no one can guess that from the parents' attitude. The moment Shamim came back home from office, Bilkis would jump on to her father's lap and shower countless kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Initially, Rabeya used to feel embarrassed and move her eyes away from Bilkis' growing adolescent body. But now-a-days she has become used to it.
The parents have to eat ice-cream cones or chocbars whenever they go out with Bilkis. Rabeya's teeth tingle from the ice-cream but there is no way out from eating chotpoti-fuchka, halim and other oily stuff on the street. Bilkis would sulk if Rabeya refuses to eat those. Shamim always handles the situation differently. Whenever he notices Rabeya is angry, he tries to make her laugh, "You see, we are from the village. Did we even see or taste such stuff? Though we are eating these late in our lives there is no harm in tasting some of what youngsters eat…"
Rabeya would say, "Why? Isn't our daughter growing up…?" To which Shamim would reply, "Has she grown up that much yet? Everything will be alright in time."
It is noon when Shamim returns from Tongi bazaar, excitedly going over the newly inaugurated flyover again on his way back. At home Bilkis returns a little late today. She has been to one of her friend's house. Shamim is lying down resting after lunch. Bilkis enters the room and lies down beside him.
"You know, Abba, Dina's family eats too much hot spices. They say that it's a special chili of Rangpur..."
Shamim sits up. "I'll take both of you out to a place in the afternoon. We'll rise towards the sky and see the whole city from there…"
"What kind of place is that?"
"That is what you are going to find out."
"Where?"
"Mohakhali flyover."
"Oh, that place. Last night I saw in the TV that the Prime Minister will be inaugurating it."
"Yes, you're right."
"Then we can go across the flyover to Ashulia…it's so open and refreshing…river on both the sides."
It is almost evening when they start for their destination. Shamim's excitement increases when the car turns upwards from Shahinbag. He nudges Bilkis sitting beside him, "Get ready. We'll rise up to the moon!"
Bilkis dashes cold water on his words. "What are you saying? It's just a small overpass with a little height."
Shamim tries to suppress his annoyance, "What did you say? It's a flyover that goes pretty high."
"So what? It's not the Vesuvius or the Himalayas."
The whole sky seems to be holding hands in a circle around the flyover. Amidst the chaos of the crowds returning home from office, Shamim's mind seeks solitude. He thinks of the rivers, ponds, marshes, and trees of the village, the cheel flying alone in the emptiness of the noon sky. During these moments of contemplation, Shamim's car has moved up to the middle of the flyover. He looks down on streets that look like black streaks. Then, as a jeep passes from the opposite direction with its headlights on, Shamim spots the body of a young girl wrapped in banana-leaf-green coloured dress. He glimpses the girl's lifeless face, her motionless limbs. Her head rests on the railing. The left leg seems to move a little. Shamim's car passes her by.
He resists turning his head back to look at the girl. He looks at Bilkis. It seems that she has not seen anything unusual.
In fact, she claps enthusiastically, "You're right Abba…! It's fantastic to see the Dhaka city from such height."
Shamim responds with monosyllabic "Yes" and "You're right". He is subdued and absentminded. He looks at Rabeya, who is sleepy. The scene flashes clearly in Shamim's mind.
A young girls' body wrapped in a banana-leaf green-coloured dress. Doubt strikes his mind: "Did I see it right?" It might have been an illusion, created by the evening's light and shadow on a street. "No, how can that be?" he thinks. He has seen everything clearly. The girl was lying along the high railing on the left side. Her body was on the narrow sidewalk. Her face was filled with pangs of pain and distress. But the left leg of the body had moved a little! Did it mean that she is still alive?
A kind of warm vapour spreads all over Shamim's face and ears. His eyes become blurry. Sweat gathers underneath his clothes. He thinks, "Can't we turn the car and go back?"
He feels sure that someone has thrown the girl there. Perhaps murdered her. Or has she been pushed from a running car. Shamim thinks if that has happened, it's possible that the girl is not dead yet! But there is no way to turn back now. He asks himself, "Will Bilkis be able to bear this scene?"
He has no option but to forget about going back. But he cannot calm his mind down. Bilkis is still chattering, "I will bring my friends one day..."
Shamim gives a short reply, "Alright."
They reach their destination, Ashulia, in the evening. Visitors to the place feel lucky to have a serene and somewhat rural lake near the capital. But today Shamim feels detached from the scene. Today a young girl's lank body wrapped in a banana-leaf green-coloured dress is haunting his trip. After strolling for a while Shamim says to Rabeya, "We should start for home now. It's a long way and it's already past 6 o'clock…"
Rabeya answers, "She has just started eating…"
Shamim becomes anxious, "Look! The place is now deserted…"
Rabeya turns to give him an enquiring look.
It takes more than half and hour for them to leave Ashulia. Bilkis speaks for the first time when they reach the Kemal Ataturk area, "Abba, we have come near that flyover again, isn't it? We'll go upwards again!"
Shamim comes to his senses. He is terrified but instantly controls himself: "No, today we can't go towards the flyover. We'll take some other route."
Shamim is sitting beside the driver. He tells the driver in a low voice, "Listen, Jahangir, let's not cross the flyover and enter into the Cantonment…there will be a traffic jam."
Jahangir hesitates, "Bilkis Apa wants to get on the flyover…"
"Listen to what I say."
As the car enters the cantonment, Shamim remembers his close relative Colonel Iqbal Ahmed. Shamim does not keep in touch with him regularly, but today he wants to talk with Iqbal Bhai, at least on the phone. Is it necessary to inform the police? May be the girl lying on the flyover is still alive!
Shamim looks at Bilkis sideways. Confusion shadows her face when the car passes through cantonment main gate.
"What's this, Abba? Where is my flyover?"
"Have we left it behind?"
"Yes we have."
Bilkis becomes stiff and silent. It hurts Shamim a lot but he has no other way.
Back home Shamim sits in a corner of the drawing room with the telephone in his hand. He describes the whole incident to the colonel, ending by saying, "You see, Iqbal Bhai, the girl might still be alive right now. She can survive if someone helps and takes care of her as soon as possible."
Iqbal sounds doubtful, "You see, Shamim Bhai, such matters are complicated. Who knows where the case will take us…"
"It doesn't matter what it takes, Iqbal Bhai…police or court… please look into it." Shamim cannot close his eyes even for a moment when he goes to sleep. He keeps staring at the ceiling with the scene flashing in front of his eyes.
On nights when Bilkis is very happy or way too upset for some reason, she comes with her pillow to sleep with her mother. Bilkis has slept with them tonight also.
The phone rings. "Iqbal speaking. There's a bad news. Gulshan police station has rescued the girl… dead…Someone murdered and threw her off. They summoned me to the police station. I did not go. They didn't dare to force me as I am an army officer. They were suspicious about us: Why didn't any other city dweller see it?"
Shamim wanted to say something but Iqbal continues, "That's why I told you not to get involved in such trouble. They have taken your address also."
"Anyway, we have done our duty. A girl murdered, left on the street and we overlook it? How can that be?"
Iqbal's deep voice sounded annoyed, "But this can only bring trouble into one's life."
Shamim lies back and stares at the ceiling for a long time. His eyes droop. The sound of heavy boots moving along the side of his house makes him open them. Shamim sits up as the sound of boots jumping off the boundary wall increases. He gets up and stands by the window. By the light of the faraway lamp post, he makes out men dressed fully in black. They have surrounded the whole house. Two or three vehicles are standing at a distance.
Before Shamim fully understands what is going on he hears someone knocking on the front door. No sooner has he opened it that a man questions him sharply, "Does Shamim Chowdhury live here?"
Shamim stammers out an answer, "Yes. I am…"
"Search him." Someone standing by the side barks out the order.
Two men search Shamim. They inform somebody, "No, there is no weapon. No suicide bomb either."
The commanding voice says, "Put handcuffs on him. You will come with us to the police station. Immediately! You are a suspect in a murder."
"What are you saying?" Shamim tries to say something more.
But the men holding him shout, "Shut up. No talking."
In the chaos Shamim has not noticed when Rabeya and Bilkis have come and stood beside him. He looks at the men and asks, "Can I change my clothes?"
"No."
Shamim has no choice but to go down the stairs with those men in black. Bilkis faints even as her scream rends the night, "Abba!"
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