My 'sweet aunty'

The question you guys are probably asking when you're reading this article is 'Who is Sweet Aunty?' Well, she's the sweetest person in the whole world… or at least she was…

Aunty was a woman who lost her husband at quite an early age, but raised two of her daughters to become two very special and talented women. She herself was very special to the people who she loved and the ones who loved her back. She never, in her life, held a grudge against any one and always tried to help people out in their time of need. Naiyar

Sultana or Sweet Aunty, as her nieces and nephews called her, always lent a helping hand to every one who needed it; from helping me in biology to helping her sisters pick out a sari for a dinner. She was always an all rounder. A good mother, a good mother-in-law, a good sister, an awesome aunt and last but not the least, a good grand mother to her two grand children.

She always had a huge smile on her face. I don't ever remember seeing her grumpy or angry. She was always so happy and cheerful; she could make the grumpiest person on earth happy! But I guess God had something better in store for her. The biggest shock of our lives came when we were told that she had been diagnosed with lymphoma, a type of cancer, that had spread through her whole body and that the cancer was in its last stage.Ê Every single person in our family was shocked. This was the last thing we thought could happen to her. Just two months prior to this news, her daughter got married and Sweet Aunty was fit and fine.

Fast forward to two months: she was in a hospital bed in Bangkok, being diagnosed for one of the deadliest diseases known to man, with no cure. Every one knew that sooner or later, Aunty would have to go.

She lay in the same hospital bed for five to six months, going through intense medication and chemotherapy. Even when she came back to Dhaka, Sweet Aunty had to be put into the ICU of Central Hospital, since she could not breathe properly and had to use a ventilator. Due to the intense medication and chemotherapy, she had lost almost all of her hair, which had once been long and had come up to her knees. But to all the people who loved her, she was still beautiful and elegant. She had become very weak, and had already been in a coma twice and had been staring death straight in the face.

When her birthday came around the corner, on the 12th of April, we decided to have a small party for her, thinking this might be the last time she got to celebrate it. So, we got to the hospital at around five in the evening gave Aunty her birthday cards, held her hand joked around a little and wished her.

But just before cutting the cake, at around quarter to six, she fell sick again. Her blood pressure began to fall and as far as I remember, she wasn't being able to breathe properly. I had never seen anything as shocking as this in my whole life. That day, we never got around having the party, since she hadn't quite recovered the whole evening. The next day, however, she somehow managed to just cut the cake. She continued to remain the same through out the whole month, in between the border of life and death.

Fast forward again, to the next month: Aunty had been in the same state as she had been a month ago. But on the 15th of May, I came back from school only to find out that my mother hadn't returned from the hospital after her 'shift', as I like to call it. I called her on her cell phone to tell her I had reached home safely.

Instead of saying 'Alright, have your lunch and relax for a little while,' she said 'Maa, your Auntie's not at all well and I thought I should tell you.' I asked her what was wrong, and she explained to me that Auntie's heart rate kept falling.

I asked if I needed to inform any one, for example, Darling [she's one of my aunts; we have strange names for our aunts]. She told me that I didn't need to do that, since every one was already in the ICU. Right then, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I knew something was terribly wrong. Lastly, she gave me a few instructions and told me that I shouldn't be surprised if I get a call to come to the hospital. But at last, in a reassuring voice, she told me, 'don't worry, kichu hobe naa.'

But God definitely proved her wrong and my sister, my niece and I were called to the hospital. My niece and I were sitting in the back seat of our car, wondering what might have gone wrong and kept hoping for the best. Upon reaching the hospital, we ran up the stairs to the third floor, anxiously hoping for the best. By then, by cousin-in-law had already left four missed calls on my sister's cell phone. Outside the ICU, we saw our niece's dad, my 'Tito bhaiya' waiting for the three of us. I could see him crying, and I knew that Aunty was gone. The minute I stepped into the room, I saw about a dozen people surrounding the bed.

I pushed through the crowd only to see my mom kneeling beside the bed, crying. Someone standing beside me told me told me she passed away not even five minutes ago. Right then, my knees gave away and I kneeled on the ground. I patted Sweet Aunty on her forehead, which was soft and smooth and started crying. My dad advised us to go to the next room and sit there….

On the 15th of May, 2005 at 6:15 p.m., I lost a person who was a friend, a mother and an aunt to me.
* Sweet Aunty, it hasn't even been a year that you've left us but I have to tell you that where ever you are, I love you very much and I miss you and I just can't accept the fact that I'll never be able to see your smiling face ever again. You have always held a special place in my heart and I will never ever forget you. I MISS YOU SWEET AUNTY.

By Ambarin Sultana

The Da Vinci Code is Dan Brown's enthralling sequel (of sorts) to Angels and Demons. However, that in no way means that the Da Vinci Code cannot stand on its own. It is in itself an intricately woven fast paced thriller with the capacity to woo any reader. With a wonderfully concocted plot, exhaustive background research and a breakneck pace of writing Dan Brown manages to produce a masterpiece.

In Da Vinci Code a murder in the silent after-hour halls of the Louvre museum reveals a sinister plot to uncover a secret that has been protected by a clandestine society since the days of Christ. The victim is a high-ranking agent of this ancient society who, in the moments before his death, manages to leave gruesome clues at the scene that only his granddaughter, noted cryptographer, the lovely Sophie Neveu, and Robert Langdon, reprising his role from Brown's last book, a famed symbologist, can untangle. The duo end up being suspects, with Sophie in particular, running from her own organization because Langdon is suspected as the murderer of the Louvre's curator.

The two find several puzzling codes at the murder scene, all of which form a treasure map to the fabled Holy Grail (yes, THE Holy Grail). As their search moves from France to England, Neveu and Langdon are confounded by two mysterious groups-the legendary Priory of Sion, a nearly 1,000-year-old secret society whose members have included Botticelli and Isaac Newton, and the conservative Catholic organization Opus Dei. Both have their own reasons for wanting to ensure that the Grail isn't found.

It also appears that the conservative Catholic bishop might be on the verge of destroying the Grail, which includes an alternate history of Christ that could bring down the church. Whoever is ordering the deaths of the Grail's guardians--modern-day members of an ancient society descended from the famed Knights Templar--must be stopped before the treasure is lost forever. To do so, Langdon and Neveu have to solve a series of ciphers and riddles while evading a tireless French police commander and a ruthless albino monk.

What happens next? You have to read for yourself and find out but trust me the twists at the end will leave you breathless.

Despite being somewhat hampered by clunky flashback sequences and place descriptions that read like tourist brochures, the story is full of brain-teasing puzzles and fascinating insights into religious history and art.

All in all, in The Da Vinci Code intrigue and menace mingle in one of the finest mysteries I've ever read. It is fascinating and absorbing -- perfect for history buffs, conspiracy nuts, puzzle lovers or anyone who appreciates a great, riveting story.

Still need a reason to read it? I think not.

By Quazi Zulquarnain Islam

Part III
A little Italian rain

Six months later…
"Bellisima! You must come in," said (apparently) the manager of Ciao Bella as he grabbed Tai's hand and tugged it. "But we're only looking at the menu," she replied, a little dismayed that she had fallen into his trap, literally. Just as she managed to pry his hand off, he grabbed Brin's arm. Too polite to struggle out of it, Brin conceded and walked in shrugging, giving Tai and Miranda a guilty look. It was okay, they told her once seated. It was raining outside anyways and walking in Little Italy in the rain was no fun.

"Bellisima, the gentleman in the corner has sent you his best wishes," said a waiter an hour later, setting down a tall glass of what could only be Pinã Colada. As Tai thanked the waiter her eyes scanned the room looking for the "gentleman in the corner". And then she saw him. Jordan. He raised his glass and with a cocky grin drained it. Miranda and Brin were both looking at her when it dawned on Brin and she said, "No way! That's three in a row. You gotta go and talk to him." "That's okay, he seems to be coming our way anyways," Tai replied with a tight smile. At that very moment his shadow fell on the table. "Ladies can I join you?" he asked.

Brin and Miranda were only too happy to comply. After all this was the perfect chance to work on their private project: the Tai-needs-a-guy project. Thus Tai's glare fell on blind eyes as Jordan pulled out a chair. "Actually we were just leaving," said Brin getting up. "I mean me and Miranda," she explained. "We need to go get groceries. But Tai says you two knew each other. So why don't you two catch up?" she said in a hurry. Tai could barely get a word out before she felt Brin kissing her cheek and Miranda blatantly winking at her before they paid and left. It seemed like a scene out of a corny chick flick.

Once the trio left, Tai felt at a loss. She had never done the sitting at an ill-orchestrated makeshift date with anyone in her twenty evenly odd years. "It seems like your friends are more interested in us having lone time than you are," Jordan observed. "And why would you think that?" Tai asked. "Let's see. You swoon the first time I offer to buy a drink, never call after our second encounter and now as we sit at our third, you seem ready to jump out of your skin!" "That's not true," exclaimed Tai. "Really? Then shall we have dessert?" challenged Jordan. Grudgingly Tai agreed and they ordered spumoni.

As they waited for the spumoni they began asking each other questions about themselves. Tai told Jordan how she studied at FIT, was a freshman and lived in the dorm. The spumoni arrived as Jordan explained that he was a junior at NYU, a business major. He worked as a waiter at Serendipity and lived in the heart of the East Village. But what surprised Tai the most was that he was anything but American. To her complete surprise he explained that he was half Jordanian and half Bangladeshi. "No way!" blurted Tai, before she could hold her tongue. "I'm Bangladeshi too." It was his turn to be surprised. "I could have sworn you were Mexican," he confessed. "You and the rest of New York, " Tai replied with a grin.

The night seemed to fly from then on. They talked about anything and everything. Only when the waiter came to explain that they would be closing did the two realize that they were the only ones there and it was way past midnight. As Jordan helped Tai into her coat she saw it was still raining outside. She was about to step towards the door when Jordan stopped her by saying, "Can I have your number?" Having had such a good time she couldn't think of one good reason to say no. She didn't even have to write it because he simply saved it on his cell phone.

They stepped out together, both unperturbed by the rain. Somewhere Tai could here the strums of an old Italian tune. They lived in separate directions and so they said goodbye and parted ways. Tai made her way back home enjoying the kiss of raindrops on her face. Walking in Little Italy in the rain was fun after all. Everything seemed new, fresh. She grinned realizing it was a new day… a new beginning.
The end.

By Tahiat-e-Mahboob