A story by Tarek Khan
Rebecca, a girl of
twelve years, lives with her four younger brothers and parents at their own
home in a village, Shimulgao.
She is always curious to
everything and thinks of a lot. If something seen unknown she must ask her
parents or teacher. And thinks at least a whole day long.
Nowadays Rebecca thinks
mainly two things, job and marriage. Sometimes of a job that she can do, but
she despairs seeing herself a child. And Marriage. Her parents and relatives
want her married as soon as possible. They are trying seriously.
Rebecca thinks what is
marriage. What does it mean. Her married friends are always painful.
In the mean time she had
completed her primary education of five years when her lost cousin, Abul Mia,
returned home after six years.
Rebecca was surprised,
“I knew you would come back.”
“How would you know,
Rebecca?”
Rebecca knows that a
coin or a needle may be lost into dust, a cock or a duck may be stolen by fox.
But if a goat or a cow get lost, they are found again. If it is, how can a man
get lost permanently.
“Wow!” Abul Mia acted of
bursting out. “You are a talented girl, Rebecca!”
“Yea, I know!” Rebecca
smiled sweetly. “My teacher calls me genius, intelligent, etc.”
“Okay. Now tell me, have
you ever been heard of an accident or kidnapping for kidneys, eyes, or valves?”
Rebecca is silent;
trying to understand.
Abul said again, “Do you
know how many people are dying every day in accidents?”
Rebecca is silent. She
thinks, somewhere has a connection between her decision and the context of
Abul.
“I wanted to say, I
might be a victim of an accident. If I were, what would be happened? Crack.”
Abul made a sound of quick pronunciation of CRACK inside of his mouth.
Rebecca said, “I didn’t
think of accident. What kinds of accidents, Abul vai?”
“Many kinds of
accidents. Naval accident, road accident, air crash, building collapse, etc.”
Rebecca is silent. She
can’t imagine exactly. And Abul Mia became a cold statue suddenly. A building,
overloaded of two thousand workers, collapsing down before his eyes.
Rebecca isn’t able to
see that. She only sees many teenage boys and young men of the village crowed
to Abul for a job. They think who is employed he can make another ones
employed. At least he can enable them commute to the employer.
“But I’m a child, and
I’m a girl,” thinks Rebecca. She struggles in her mind to say that she wants a
job. She needs it. But hesitates. Her heartbeat goes high.
After two days of
struggle she uttered some words loosely and separately. “Abul vai, unless you
mind, I would like to talk,” she hesitates more, “I mean, I want to know...!”
Then, when Abul
encouraged her, she said, “I heard.” Nothing more. But Abul made her easy to
talk freely, “What did you hear, Rebecca? Perhaps you want to know something.
So, feel free to open your mind. I am interested to hear you.”
At last two days later
she delivered a full speech, “I hear many girls and women also work like men in
the city of Dhaka.”
“So?”
“I also want to do!”
Rebecca told quickly. Her heartbeat went high.
Now what to tell her and
what to do. Abul didn’t think ever she would think of job. Whereas this is a
great chance to show her love. He loves her to marry in future; not now because
of having no saving. On the other hand her family wants her married
immediately. Even if, it may happen on Sunday in the next week when a groom and
his relatives will come to see the bride, Rebecca. If they choose her, marriage
will be arranged instantly! But, since Rebecca wants a job, this is a chance to
take her away far from the home, from the village.
Abul thinks, job is
possible, though it’s hard. But how can he proceed now. What to do as its
process.
Abul falls into a deep
thought. Silence sat down like a heap of rock. Rebecca tries to find out what
Abul thinks. Later a while she broke the silence down in a mournful voice, “Is
it impossible, Abul vai?”
“Uh? No! I mean, I
think. Do you really want a job?”
“Yeah! I want!” gulped
Rebecca.
Abul emitted a long
sigh.
“Okay. Now tell me, if
your parents disagree, what to do?”
“I shall escape!”
replied Rebecca like a pre-planned decision. Abul is thundered by her daring
determination.
“Listen to me, Rebecca,
think more and then think, should you do that?”
Rebecca is silent.
Sometimes she does so, if something doesn’t make sense or happens unexpected.
Sometimes her younger brothers make a noise, as a result she can’t read at
their one room hut. Then she goes to the yard in the autumn and winter, under a
mango tree in the spring and summer, but no natural arrange in the rain and
damp. Then her father babbles for a new house. He does it year after year, at
least for five years that Rebecca can recall.
She recalled the first
days of her school life when she had one brother, her father told almost every
day for a new house. Rebecca thought it might be a residence made of wood and
tin. But it has never been. Probably won’t be ever. And the food, one time in
the maximum days, and the cloths, and, etc.
Rebecca requested Abul
to ask for a permission to her father. But Abul is too lacking vivacity to
move. “Why?” asked Rebecca.
Abul is silent. A multi
storied factory building, overloaded of sixteen hundred workers, is burning
before his eyes. Rebecca doesn’t see that. So, she requested more, “Please,
Abul vai!”
“Actually, what do I
think is, if I go again...!”
“If…!”
Rebecca couldn’t talk
anymore. A few days later she wanted to ask him what the problem was in Dhaka.
But she didn’t do. Preferably she thinks to move herself though she doesn’t
know how to do, how far from Narail to Dhaka. But she moved. According to a
story that she heard.
“I can’t bear my married
friends’ pain and distress,” she mumbled.
Going to the bus station
Rebecca was surprised, “Abul vai, you were following me!”
“Your courage is
admirable, Rebecca. But I can’t leave you alone. You know nothing about Dhaka.”
“I have no choice.”
They reached at Savar in
Dhaka after a whole night bus journey while the red sun was rising. Getting off
the bus Rebecca saw a large dirty yard like a garbage station. The cuckoos,
dogs, beggars, rats, tokaies have crowded there. They are digging garbage for
the scraps of food. The tokaies are digging for the trash of plastic, paper,
glass, iron.
Rebecca couldn’t believe
this. The scene dumbfounded her. She forgot to move with Abul who was familiar
to see this. He went away far from Rebecca.
Little Rebecca. When she
was relieved from obsession she felt herself into a dark hole. She almost cried
out. But she was not used to do so. She thought to move. But here there are
three roads. Which one she can select. She thought to stay there so that Abul
can find her out.
Really, Abul came back
very soon. He was afraid of. “What’s wrong with you, Rebecca?”
“I was so scared!”
“Me too. And I tell you,
be serious. Link with me always. If you get lost a while, never be found again,
okay?”
“Okay!”
They walk to a local bus
station and get on a minibus. It took them to Ashulia. Getting off the bus they
sank into a sea of dust.
They stepped forward.
Rebecca is wondered
looking at the scattered buildings over the low marsh in a little distance from
the both sides of a road. The road is about 20 feet high from the marsh.
Abul raised his hand to
a multi storied building. “See, Rebecca. That’s my factory where do I do my
job.”
“Wow, so big, ha?”
“Yea, as high as wide!”
“How many folks work
there, brother?”
“Hmmm! Almost three
thousands.”
“Three-e-e-e thou…!”
“Yeah!”
Abul turned right
downward a slope way, which was as narrow as wet, leaded between two big slums,
almost sleeping.
Rebecca is too tired to
walk, “How more far, Abul vai?”
“No more. Just before
that turning. Are you tired?”
“Nope! I just asked.”
They went to a small
room in a big slum built with bamboo and tin over a marsh. A young girl of
eighteen, Arifa Khatun, came out from the room. “Wow, you have come back, Abul
vai! I thought you were lost.”
Another three girls, a
little junior and senior of Arifa, rose from the beds and came to the door. One
of them is Monira, “Wow, Abul vai, yesterday we gossiped of you. You must live
long!”
“Yeah, I shouldn’t die
quickly.”
“I went to your mess.
Your roommate told, you left Dhaka permanently.”
“Yes, I did. Why did you
look for me, Monira?”
“My factory didn’t pay
for three months. I want to switch.”
Arifa said, “Who is this
girl, Abul vai? Your wife?”
Rebecca became red of
shame. Abul replied quickly, “She is my cousin. Her name is Rebecca.”
“Oh, came to tour?”
“No, she needs a job.”
“Oh!”
Everyone looked at
Rebecca at a glance. They took a look of her get up, make up, figure and face.
“Hey, the rice is overflowing!”
shouted Monira. Arifa ran to the kerosene stove in a corner inside of the room.
A single room of 120 square feet.
Arifa dimed the heat of
stove. Then looked at the door. “Come in, Abul vai. Sit down, please!”
“Not now, Arifa.” Abul
didn't sit. He requested Arifa to manage a seat for Rebecca.
“No problem. She can
live with us. We are looking for a roommate.”
“That’s better. So, now
I’m going, Arifa. Please, take care of her. I will be back immediately.”
“Okay, don’t worry!”
Rebecca looked at Abul
with her black eyes, full of a lot of questions. But Abul stepped, saying, “See
you very soon, Rebecca.”
An early few hours
Rebecca feels a little uneasy in the new environment. She doesn’t know what is
mess and how to live here. So, what’s her responsibilities. She thinks and
follows everybody. What do they do and how do they do so.
Rebecca sees everything
and tries to learn. What to learn. Which life they lead here as their daily
life is so short! Almost a same routine every day. Cook, eat, sleep and go to
the factory. What else. It’s tough to find something another out. So, what does
Rebecca search. Nothing but a job. Like another someone. But she doesn’t know
how to do it. She thinks of Abul who must help her. Where is he. He has gone
eight days ago. Why didn’t he come yet.
Rebecca is fully
worried. She asked her roommates, “Where does Abul vai reside?”
They went to a mess.
Abul’s friends give this news, he has been jailed.
“Why?” surprised
Rebecca, fallen down from the sky.
His friends were in a
movement for the salary. Abul joined them. So, police pushed him into the jail.
“Will he come back?”
asked Rebecca. She has no idea. Everybody consoled her, “No tension, Rebecca.
He must be back.”
Rebecca is waiting for
Abul and thinking of her own step. For A Job.
What the step is.
Rebecca asked her youngest roommate, Mona Aktar, who is same to Rebecca. As
size as age. That’s why she wants her a good friend. But she talks so less!
“Why do you talk so
less, Mona?”
Mona is silent. She
almost always silent. Rebecca saw her all time down-hearted and low-spirited
which made Rebecca disappointed. On the other hand she fears to talk the
seniors, Arifa, Monira, or another one. Because of their rude mood. They have
already said Rebecca, “Find your job quickly. You have no money to bear the
next month.” They said without any punctuation, “Don’t wait for other’s help.
Nobody has a little time to give you.”
Rebecca requested them
just to take her to their factory when they walk in the morning, but they said
harshly, “We work in a large factory. They don’t allow the child laborers. So,
you should try to the small factories. You can go with Mona to her small
factory.” Their voice and sound seem so ruthless!
Rebecca raised her hand
over a shoulder of Mona and tried to talk her again, “What’s wrong with you,
Mona? May I help you?”
Mona had talked a little
after Rebecca tried several times.
“Why do you like the
job?”
“I need it.”
“I don’t like to do.”
“Why?” said Rebecca.
Mona is silent again.
“Unless you like, why do
you do?”
Mona was silent.
Nevertheless. Rebecca was linked with to be intimated as she had felt at the
first sight of.
Yes, a little intimacy
was built up between them within a few days. But Rebecca couldn’t make her
jolly fully having no way to do.
When Mona comes from the
factory she seems devastated. When she rises from the bed and walks for the
factory she seems sleeping. Sleeping with walking. Walking with sleeping. As a
result it was tough to talk her a minimum.
So, what does Rebecca do
now. She thinks and goes some factories every day. Herself. But she can’t enter
into any factory because of the crowds in the gate.
“What the crowd in there
always?” thinks Rebecca. “Who are they?” She had known a little, later a few
days. Those folks are the brokers of wastage, some are job seekers, and some
are the bandit boys for extract.
Rebecca had been looking
for a crowd-free gate for four days. She got it after nine days. When she went
to a lonely gate in ninth day, the gate keeper asked, “What do you want?”
Rebecca was too scarred
of his long moustache to answer. She just mumbled and gulped. Her heartbeat
went high.
The gate keeper saw her
top to bottom. Then said, “Do you look for a job?”
Rebecca tried to say
‘yea’ storing her full energy, but it was hard to do before the long moustache.
Then the gate keeper smiled with his milk-white teeth that was really
encouraging.
Rebecca got some
courage. Another working children, like her same age and size, also encouraged
her when she entered into the factory.
The gate keeper took her
to the chamber of managing director, Shohid Hossen.
“Do you like to job?”
asked Shohid.
“Yeah!” gulped Rebecca.
Now she has a little confidence. She got a job of helper. Help to the cutting
operator, sewing operator, steam iron operator, packing operator, and others.
Sometimes she is a
laborer too to bear the clothes from the store to cutting room, cutting to
sewing, sewing to vehicle for washing, then vehicle to ironing, ironing to
packing, packing to store, then store to lorry. She is a sweeper too to sweep
the floor, bathroom, table, and machine. Her duty is 8 am to 10 pm.
“How was your day,
Rebecca?” one day Mona had asked after Rebecca returned from the factory.
Rebecca was silent.
“Why?” asked Mona and kept silent.
Nobody released any
sound, just kept looking at each other. They do it sometimes while they think
nothing.
When Rebecca starts her
fight in the factory, 8 am, she goes smoothly up to 2 pm. Then she feels
sleepy. She can’t move anymore, but she has to do. It’s hard to continue
without any weekend. Or, it can be told they have no week.
Rebecca joined 22
February and got her first break on 26 March. She got it as a national holiday,
freedom day of Bangladesh.
On the other hand,
Rebecca hoped that she would get her eight days’ salary in the end of month.
She had no idea what a false dream she had. Arifa knew it that’s why she didn’t
want the seat-charge of February. When the March was gone away, she told, “I
think your factory is a devil. They wouldn’t pay you the salary. So, try
another factory.” She told more, “Unless you pay the bill from this month, you
must leave up next month.” Later a day she told again and began to do every
day.
In the mean time their
another roommate, Sonya, said, she has lost her job.
Rebecca was silent. She
had nothing to say. But her silence made Arifa angry. “Hey, why don’t you
response, huh? Don’t you care me?”
Yet Rebecca is silent.
So, Arifa is more angry. “I shelter you, I feed you, but you don’t care me?”
Arifa shoved her down the floor. “What do you think, huh? What do you think?”
“What do I tell you?”
Rebecca cried out in a mournful tone. “What do I do?”
“How do I tell you,
huh?” Arifa shouted loudly. “You can’t pay the bill, you can’t cook, how would
you live in Dhaka, huh? How shall we bear you?” She pushed her out of the room.
The dark night gulping
down the big slums, but a little electric bulb fighting against it.
Rebecca doesn’t know
what to do. Her sense streaming away through her parents, little brothers,
friends, village and neighbors, which make no sense of better life. Just an
wave of feelings overflowing over her little heart.
She feels to be home.
Just now. But she thinks, she doesn’t want to do.
She stepped through the
light and shadow toward a lake where there is a tree of zarul. She sat on the soil
leaning against the tree on the bank of lake. The natural lake, surrounded by
the slums and dress making factories, going covered day by day by
garment-garbage. Just five years ago that was a big and fresh source of fish
and sweet water; nowadays changing into a giant garbage station. Always
emitting ill-smelling gas, breath hacking.
Original in English, January 2015.
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