When ‘killing is a solution’
Shejuti swaggered in her study-room, holding a plastic pouch of rat poison she withdrew from the paper box that she had flung on the floor just now. It was unlike her to not care about the direction paper provided. Upon realizing the discordance, "Tired of being a perfectionist!", she thought to herself. Knowing how to mix powder with water should be enough, and that she doesn't need to learn from the manual.
"How can someone survive with so many problems?" Similar question she's been asking herself for the past couple of years. At this point, even expecting new phrases as an answer would seem redundant. She cannot live with this many problems. She's had enough. She wants an end to it. This time, Shejuti doesn't want to risk bumping into a good memory while rummaging through the randomly stacked up anecdotes in her head. Chances are, she would abruptly be filled up with optimism or she would indulge her mind completely into a session of recollection of which she cannot get rid until or unless she's reminded of an unfulfilled mundane duty.
Like many, Shejuti has always considered her family as the peak point of the abstract scale of priority. That being said, to her, recognizing someone as the epitome of trustworthiness is huge of a deal. Being able to announce to someone, "You're the first one to know this. Neither my family nor my best friend has a hint." is something unnecessary, yet she longed for. She regrets it. Now whether that person has transformed from being a loyal human to a disloyal one or had he always been a skilled actor, is a never-ending debate, in which Shejuti often involves herself unintentionally.
Questions like "How could he do this to me if he loved me?" and "Maybe he didn't love me. Is it possible for a human to be this inhuman and play with someone's emotions like this?" keeps coming up and keeps adding layer to the existing confusion her mind keeps coming back to. The tiresome caused by the recollection of walks she had taken with her former partner, the precious expression she received in return of sharing her words with none but him, all the "I love yous, "I miss yous, "You make me feel like nobody else doess and the most irritating sounding one (unless heard from someone one actually wants to hear from) - "I cannot live without you", plots an end point to her mind map, which is more of a fresh confusion than a conclusion.
Enough she has seen, she rethought. It's time she put an end. She carefully stood up holding the glass of mixture of water and poison, and then she realized that she doesn't know how to apply that. Had she gone through the manual provided, she could've started with killing the rats - one of the minute problems of her life; knowing that, she cannot live with so many problems.
The writer is a second year student of Anthropology, Brac University