Around the Bend by Mehreen Ahmed

Around the Bend by Mehreen Ahmed

It was evening by the time I got home. As I stood at the entrance of my shack, I heard laughter. Maa was laughing with my friend Rumpa. Somehow, I didn’t feel like breaking up this delightful togetherness until Rumpa saw me.

“Is that you?” she asked.

“Yes, it is.”

I walked in through the entrance. Maa looked at me and said nothing.

“What took you so long? You’ve been gone for ages now,” Rumpa asked.

“Oh! It’s a long story. I’ll have to meet you tomorrow to talk about this. Let’s meet under the tamarind tree,” I said.

“Okay, whatever you say. I’ll be going home for now.”

“Sure, I am so glad that you stayed with Maa, Rumpa.”

“That’s ok. We had a lovely time together,” she said.

Rumpa walked out of the entrance and I sat down in the semi-darkness of a quiet evening under the full silver moon with Maa.

“What a quiet evening, isn’t it, Maa?”

I asked looking at the moon. Maa nodded without uttering a word. After a pause, she asked me a shocking question.

“Do you like our neighbour, Nurul?”

“What? Who?”

“I asked you a simple question.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually mad, Maa? Or are you just feigning to be mad?”

“Do you think those medicines are for someone who pretends? Aren’t they to keep me away from getting mad to madder?

“Yeah, you’re right,” I nodded.

“I probably see more in madness, then I would have normally,” she answered. “That Jhalak he is going out with isn’t right for him.”

“Oh! I don’t know, Maa, let it go. Let’s just go to bed. I’m tired.”

Maa didn’t say much after that. She just yawned and rose to go inside. I sat there looking at the moon looking back at me and doing what’s it meant to do, shed its cosmic, loving light on everyone regardless of good or evil. In the silent night, I heard a radio broadcast outside my shack. I listened to an announcement of an imminent flood. The river was rising again. If there was flood, then our shack was going to be on its direct pathway. The sound became indistinct as the passerby carrying the radio walked on. I sighed and sat here a bit more thinking of evacuation. It needed to be underway sooner than later. The last flood had devastated whatever came in its way. Tonight, though, I decided to sleep. I was tired. I felt an uncanny awakening in my heart. Maa,—maybe she’s right, I thought. Right, all along.

I smiled at the moon and felt the moon smile back. I rose to go to bed and crept in beside Maa. I tossed for a while until sleep came. A roaring sound woke me up; it was the winds. Or was it the waves? I listened and remembered the radio broadcast. Had the floods already begun, I wondered? I was afraid to go outside. I was afraid that the waters had already entered our little shack. The River water must have swollen to a dangerous level. There was a tree, the tamarind tree. I saw a flash of Jhalak’s scarf, then a deathly pale face of a girl. I screamed and woke up with sweat beads pushing through my forehead. There was no floodwater inside the shack, only the roaring sounds from somewhere. Sounds of the waves; the sounds of the winds. I lay quietly beside Maa and listened in. I had to make plans before Maa became agitated. In my mind, I could only think of the new school building where we could go in the event of an imminent flood warning. I would have to think harder and faster in the morning. I heard Maa’s snoring— rhythmic and loud. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wished I were a Mughal Princess living in a solid fort which no winds threatened to blow away; I saw myself in expensive intricately sequinned attire, layers of pearls around my neck in the morning light; gold in the afternoon and glittering diamonds in the evening walking with my prince by the river or listening to spiritual Sufi songs in the moonlight on an open verandah in the middle of a verdant garden.

Sleep came slowly, unbeknowest I had passed into slumber where I actually had a vision of a palace, royal attire and jewellery, except my prince was faceless; then they were all gone like dust blown away in the fog of time.

The morning sun had risen, when I woke up to find more about the flood. Had it receded then? It must have for the sun was fully up after many days of rain. I climbed out of bed and heard my neighbour, Nurul singing in his garden. I came out of my shack and saw him. He waved at me. I walked closer to him and asked. “Do you know anything about the flood?”

He said. “Yes, I had also heard something but it doesn’t seem like it now that the sun’s up. I have a wedding to go to in the next village across the river.”

“Then you have to take the boat, yeah?” I asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Whose wedding is it?” I asked.

“A close friend—Diponkor Chokroborty.”

“I see. Have you known him long?” I asked.

“Yes, since school, he is one of my oldest friends.”

“How nice, I haven’t been to a wedding in ages,” I said.

“Really? Why, do you not know anyone?”

“I do a few from this village but not too many. The ones I know are not getting married anytime soon, except maybe Jhalak. I don’t even know if she’d invite me.”

I said and laughed. However, I was the only one laughing here. I looked at him somewhat puzzled thinking that it may have not amused him. Contrarily, I thought it was amusing and he might actually take the hint to invite me himself. I saw a serious face and a serious pair of eyes looking back at me. I took a step backwards and didn’t realise that there was a ditch right behind me in the rain battered soil. I fell right into it. Although, there wasn’t any pain straightaway, I was unable to move. When I tried to get up, my ankle hurt. My neighbour extended his arms towards me which I took with some hesitation, still I couldn’t bring myself to sit up. Awkwardly, he scooped me up with his forearms.

It felt strange to be in the unfamiliar arms of a person. I had never been this close to any one—male or female, except Maa. I closed my eyes, and felt a bit shy. I don’t know what he thought. He probably thought I was in pain which I was. Whatever it was, his hot breath fanned my face as he took me inside to lay me down on our clayed floor. Then he asked me softly. “Can you open your eyes? Or is it too painful? I am going to get the doctor. Hopefully, his clinic is open.”

I managed a smile to say thank you. He didn’t smile back. He said he would be back shortly. Maa was beside herself when she saw me, and she began to cry.

“Maa, please don’t cry. I’ll get Rumpa to help out. At least the flood situation has improved, Maa. No floods! Isn’t that wonderful? Our neighbour is a good man who is also helping. So, we got help. Please don’t cry.

Maa sobbed, then she blew her nose and tried to contain her grief. She sat by me what seemed to be the longest hours ever to have passed, so slow hours felt heavy on the day as it moved from second to second, Nurul didn’t come. Maybe, he wouldn’t come. Maybe, he didn’t find a doctor after all. Yet, hope rushed into my heart like a narrow ray of sunshine which I captured within my two hands which would also escape with the progress of time.

Maa scraped out food from the nearly empty pots left unwashed from last night. She grumbled how Father never had enough. How she never had enough to spend. Father had many sterling qualities otherwise, until one day he decided to wed again. Now Maa had a second wife to reckon with under the same roof. On a foggy evening, Maa had lost it. When she was having a moment, she took a pan and she hit Father on the head for marrying again. Father had lost it too. He hit her back, and tried to choke her in anger. She would have died there, her neck in a tight grip, had it not been for my timely intervention that prevented it. At Rumpa’s house all day, I returned home in the evening. Fright seized me, from what I saw—Father’s attempt to kill Maa rooted me in the ground, I began to shriek. Father startled; his grip came undone. Mother rolled over on the side from under him and stood up. We both ran out of the house, and through the village panting. Until we found the tamarind tree and rested underneath. Oddly, Father had done a runner with the new wife. He never returned, but Maa was also never the same after that. Madness had steadily engulfed her mind. She would accuse me of drowning Father in the river.

I, who heard this over and over, protested one day. “Maa, why do you say, I drowned Father into the River? Both of us know that he left home.”

“When did I accused you?”

“Yes, you did. You said I had oared him too far into estuary when the current was strong. The boat had rocked and went out of control when Father fell into the river and drowned. This never happened, Maa. We never saw Father after that day, remember?”

“Why do I see him, his face surfaces in the river when I look into it?”

I kept quiet. In Maa’s illness—the emergence of momentary sanity was a priceless silver lining.

Nearly the entire day went by. I started to hear sounds of katydid serenading in the quiet evening and other nocturnal creatures such as frog’s monotonous croaky sounds. Maa was sitting by me and becoming increasingly impatient. Not knowing exactly how to deal with this situation, she rose and began to walk the stretch of our small yard where I lay motionless and continued to wince from the pain. She stopped as though she saw something. I thought maybe she saw an apparition. Maybe, she saw Father’s ghost. There were indistinct human voices waving through the consistent sounds of all the nocturnal creatures. I heard voices getting closer and closer. My chest was heaving as I thought of Nurul. Someone entered the shack. He had a kerosene lamp in is hand. It was the village doctor. The doctor had come of course but without Nurul. He carried his black, bulgy medical bag and sat down.

In the kerosene lamp, he examined my foot and said my foot needed an x-ray. For now, he gave me some pain relief and to not exacerbate the condition by moving it. Maa, who understood nothing, just kept looking at the doctor and at the doorway. The Doctor knew Maa’s condition and told me that I should ask a friend to help out. I thought of Rumpa, then I realised how would she even know. I couldn’t count on Maa to call for help. Maybe Nurul could ask Jhalak to tell Rumpa. I shut my eyes and kept them closed until the Doctor said that there was nothing else he could do until an x-ray was done. I opened my eyes and tried to pull a smile. The Doctor put an affectionate hand on my forehead and rubbed it a few times and gave me pain relief asking me to swallow them with a glass of water he had found near our stove. I took the pills and put the glass beside me on the floor.

“Is there anyone you want me to ask to help?” he asked.

“Actually, yes Rumpa.”

“Ah yes.”

“You know everyone in the village, don’t you, Doctor Chacha.”

“Being the only Doctor, yes, I know practically everyone and have done home visits, too. “There is a reason why they call me Chacha—Uncle—my age and the service I give.”

“We call you Chacha, instead of Shahib because we love you as an uncle. Shahib is too distant.”

“Of course, Of course. Well, I’ll get Rumpa to bring you and your Maa some food. Get some rest now, and get an x-ray done.”

“Maa, can you bring my black bag. It’s near the dressing table.”

Maa followed my instructions. She went to our room and I could hear her footsteps soft on the ground. She brought the bag; I clicked it open and handed out the Doctor’s fees. He took it and put it in his bag.

The Doctor was packing up and leaving. He rose and walked towards the door when Maa sensed someone, again. She began to say loudly, “Who’s there? Who’s there?” There was no response. Only her words reverberated in the open winds. I closed my eyes and wondered what was making Maa nervous. My heart was leaping, thinking that it could be Nurul, came to see. Maa continued to look at me. ‘I’ll be okay Maa, don’t worry. Rumpa will help out as usual.’ Maa was anxious. She started to say, ‘What if this is permanent? What if you never walk again? Heal?’

As I lay there, looking at the starry night without much movement, I heard someone entering, pushing through the gate. Maa was overjoyed to see Rumpa again. Rumpa came in and stood before me with a towel-wrapped object. She put it down in the kitchen area. She had brought us dinner and was now plating it. I could smell fresh turmeric from fish curry, daal and fragrant fried eggplant.

“Rumpa, how could we ever repay you?” I asked.

Rumpa laughed and said, ‘no need, just get better, feel better.’

“I am thinking who would take me to get my x-ray done tomorrow?” I asked.

“Hmm, I can ask Baba to take you in our car. If he can’t, then I would have to organise an auto-rickshaw and take you there somehow. Leave it to me. Say, Nurul too has a car. Do you think we could get him to give us a lift?”

I remained silent. Maa said, ‘yes, absolutely.’

Both of us stared at her enthusiasm. Then Rumpa took the plates and handed them to us. I couldn’t sit up. Rumpa took a spoon and tried to feed me. I ate all I could but Maa had a full appetite and ate her dinner with gusto. After dinner, Rumpa put her bowls back into the towel and wrapped them up neatly and put the bundle in a corner.

“It’s late, I need to go and organise a ride for tomorrow,” she said. “Are you going to sleep here all night?”

I nodded and Maa said nothing just looked at me in despair. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Rumpa thought for a second and said that maybe it would be better if she didn’t try to move me at all. She took her towel and bowls and said goodbye. I heard her footsteps gradually fading into the forest in the blustery winds.

Laying under an open, starry sky, I realised that I had never looked at the sky at this hour from this angle before. I thought of the planets. I peered and wondered where Venus was amongst the stars. I had read that Venus was visible from Earth at dawn or right after sunset. It was one of the brightest objects of the night sky second to the Moon—Earth’s twin planet. Maa was sitting glumly by me. She rose and she walked toward the bedroom with a yawn. In a bit, she returned with two pillows and a blanket. She stuffed a pillow under my head and lay down beside me on the second pillow under her, tucking us both in and herself with the blanket. Maa ran her fingers through my hair and sang an off-tune lullaby. I felt like a two year old being lulled to sleep.

I woke up, needed a glass of water. Maa was snoring by then. Thirst was killing me. Last night, Rumpa had left a glass of water thoughtfully within my reach. I groped and found the glass while the skylights blinked. To the ancient Greeks, Planētēs were moving celestial objects within the sky while stars remained fixed. The ponderers had a name for planets,’wanderers’ they often called them orbiting around the stars.

The pain relief was starting to wear off. I tolerated as well as I could. After a while, I began to whimper and make sounds of distress. I wished someone would get me some pain killers again. I had begun to scream by now oblivious to the time of the night; oblivious of whom I maybe waking up or luring to come into my shack. I felt no fear at that moment just raging pain. My eyes were shut and tears squeezed out of the corners. My body was sore. In the dark, I felt the warm presence of a hand lifting my head. I was sure an Angel had come to my assistance. A glass of water was being held to my mouth, and a benign palm offering me two white pills. I didn’t know whose palm this was. I couldn’t see the face. But I took the pills without a fuss and gulped them down with water. I peered to get a closer look, all I felt was a cold passing draft.

In an hour my pain numbed. And I began to think again about this mystery—perhaps a prowler through the night forest, a complete stranger who somehow knew what to do. That was why it was a mystery. I looked towards the door to see if I could see anything there. Someone had my back, and I found relief in knowing that I had a protector.

With closed eyes, my mind was racing. Maa’s mental health was a result of Father’s incorrigible behaviour. Those were dark days. Violence wasn’t even considered a crime; oppression was rampant which women tolerated, or risked either being ostracised or branded as disreputable by society, if they couldn’t cope. Men took no responsibility for crimes they committed. They didn’t even acknowledge that a crime was being committed, let alone, acknowledge themselves as perpetrators of those crimes.

Maa didn’t kill herself. She became mental. I called it separation anxiety from life. In life, separation anxiety worked like magic mushroom, proliferating no matter how rough and tough the ride was, one couldn’t bring oneself to separate from it. Committing suicide was rare. People continued with life’s insufferable journey as long as it took until they were struck naturally by death. My Maa was lucid, and beautiful back in the day, when she had married Father.

The darkness lifted. Night had passed quietly into a pale morning. It shed some light on my condition here, where I slept on the hard floor of the courtyard. I could hear Maa’s snoring from the bedroom. I could barely lift myself. The pain relief helped through the night, however, I was in between sleep and wakefulness. Where would I be now if my friends didn’t help me? I wondered who was organising a vehicle to take me into the clinic for x-ray? Would Rumpa’s Father be able to send the car? At that moment, I heard someone enter. I moved my head back to see. In the first light, I saw him—Nurul entered in white T-shirt and blue pants. He came closer and stood over me. I felt a sweet sensation surge within me. He came to see how I had fared through the night. Was it him who had come through the night when Maa sensed someone—my knight of the dark? I opened my eyes and managed a smile.

“How is the pain?” he asked.

“Very painful, still.” I answered.

“Here let me help you take these pain-killers.”

I touched his palm with my finger tips, skin on skin, I suppressed a smile. But he smiled at me as though he knew that my reaction would be like this. I looked down and felt ashamed for being exposed like this. To cover it up I said, “I need an x-ray.”

“Do you know who’d will take you to x-ray?” he asked.

“My friend, Rumpa said she’d ask her father for a car.”

“Oh! No need for that, I’d take you in mine. I have a sedan where you can lie comfortably in the back.”

I conferred with myself. After all he was betrothed with Jhalak, who, in a fit of jealousy wouldn’t know what she might do.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“No, I was thinking of Jhalak.”

“Oh! Don’t fret about her, I’m sure she’d be ok helping a friend.”

So that was what he thought of me—a friend—a mere friend—nothing more. Tears were welling up which I was fighting back. I put my two fingers inside my mouth and bit them hard while Nurul looked on puzzled.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m—just in a lot of pain.”

“Hmm, he said. I’ll take you for an x-ray as soon as it opens which wouldn’t be long. Maybe you need to have some breakfast. This will make you feel better.”

He stood up and walked away from me and exited through the front. I let my tears flow undeterred without him looking on. I cried and then hiccupped and then cried a bit more until the sun’s dappled lights shone on the trembling leaves.

The samaritan, my good neighbour returned with omelette and roti on a plate covered with a lid.

“Here have some.”

He crouched beside me and tore a corner of the roti and angle-wrapped it around a bit of omelette he pinched out with his index. He fed me the whole omelette and the roti until the plate was clean. I hadn’t realised that Maa had woken up and had seen this from the doorway where she stood. I could read her mind. I knew exactly what she was thinking that I was planting a seed for the future. Really? Maa you’re well and truely mad. In your madness you would think of anything as long as you don’t say them to embarrass me. I looked at her meaningfully. But did she get the hint? Next thing I knew, Maa coming over and sitting beside Nurul and patting him on his back and head and saying, “Bless you dear, my future son-in-law. I wish you two a happy, long life.”

Nurul looked at her and greeted her with respect. He rose and mumbled that he had to go to organise his car and that he would be back soon. I wished for the ground to open up and gobble me to save me from this awkward situation.

“Stop, Maa, please stop.”

I whined and tried to hold her arm. But she was unstoppable. She pulled her hand from mine and followed Nurul unabashed to the door until he was gone. But he was going to be back and I dreaded Maa’s behaviour then.

“Maa,” I said.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Nurul will take me to do some x-rays soon. If Rumpa comes please ask her to stay with you.”

“Okay, sure, no need to worry about me now,” she said laughing.

“Maa, what you see is just empathy for a helpless neighbour, Maa, you’re reading too much into this,” I said.

“No, I’m not. You will never see what I see.”

I sighed and kept my head down and waited for Nurul to return. The sooner this was over the better for me. However, I heard some shuffling of footsteps outside. Rumpa entered with tea and food.

“Salaam, Khala, how are you?” she asked us.

“We’re very well,” Maa said gleefully.

“Sorry, I have bad news. I couldn’t organise a vehicle for you. Father had to go to the city today.”

“That’s okay,” Maa said. “Nurul will bring his car for her.”

“He would? That’s wonderful.”

Rumpa said with a wink. She began to put the food out.

“She’s eaten. Nurul came and fed her with his own hand.”

Rumpa raised her eyebrows. A cheeky smile played around her lips.

“But I haven’t eaten. Let me see what breakfast you made us. This smells like ghee parathaas, vegetable curry and egg scramble.”

“Spot on, Khala.Why’re you on any medication? I wonder sometimes.”

Rumpa laughed and brought Maa a plate and poured three cups of tea for us all.

I sipped my tea, and looked up to the sky to see some grey clouds floating. The wet weather was going to persist, no matter how brightly the sun may had shone in the morning. If the rain fell, It was going to be impossible without a car anyway, I thought and I watched Maa and Rumpa enjoying the tea. My lips twitched slightly and a shiver ran through my spine. In a little while, Nurul came with a stretcher with another man holding its other end. This new man, I didn’t know who he was and Nurul didn’t care to introduce either. The good samaritan came and between the two picked me up and put me in the stretcher. Rumpa and Maa stood aside and let us pass following closely behind to see us out. Nurul picked off the stretcher and gently placed me into the car seat. He held my head between his palms on his taut legs.

It was a bumpy ride. Driving through village dirt roads was not easy. There were pebbles and potholes, especially when it rained so much. So much of the earth got washed away in the rain and the floods. We were lucky to even have some top soil left. The bumps on the road increased my pain considerably; I even groaned at times. But Nurul’s hand on my forehead was calming.

If Maa’s prediction was right, then pandemonium would reign in our lives. Jhumpa’s family would not leave any stones unturned to ruin Nurul and me. They were a powerful lot with political connections at the top. I tried not to indulge in romance and Maa’s thoughts. The last conversation I had with Nurul standing up was about a wedding he was supposed to go to—Diponkor Chokroborty, his school friend. Ah yes, I remembered that he didn’t laugh when I alluded to his wedding with Jhalak.

Really? I wondered what vile gossips was going to spread in the village that a man—Nurul, an unmarried man, taking and unmarried women in a car, also caressing her head on his lap. I could feel the driver looking through the rearview mirror. I couldn’t do this anymore. I just wanted my pain to go away. Nurul had risked everything to help me. Or maybe he had a chat with Jhalak who gave him permission. What did they talk about? Here, I was getting all worked up. My emotions were mixed and my mind racing through muddled thoughts.

The car hit a speed bump.

“How far?” I asked.

“Not far,” Nurul whispered.

“I hope not,” I whispered.

I looked at him. He looked at me. He smiled. I smiled.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Mehreen Ahmed 2025