Run through the fields of dragonflies. Here long kashfuls are fluttering in the breeze like the heartbeat of a child.
Above the vast white meadow of kashful an azure sky stretched from horizon to horizon - the sun, two birds, and invisible waves of loud commotions in the distance.
Through these fields many days were spent playing hide and seek. Many stolen mangoes and guava were eaten in secret. So many lives of a single person dwelled in this village.
Now run. Run like you used to before jumping into the bosom of Ichamati River. Run to the cool water that embraces your soul in the utmost affection.
Sun doesn't seem fierce anymore.
Stealing Mazid Mia's soap was fun. The sweet smell of the soap bar felt nauseating sometimes but it was the experience that mattered.
Jumping into Ichamati was followed by a sweaty game of football with a huge pomelo fruit. Unlike other things, this was not stolen from anyone. They took it from the pomelo tree near the graveyard. It belonged to no one.
Someday they would postpone the sport to attend a different kind of game. They would get some money out of it too.
After they are done bathing in the river, they would get dressed and go to the bazaar. There, they would buy tickets with that money to watch theatre. They always watched the play called, "Rakkhosher Deshe"- The ferocious monster chasing the pretty princess, the princess running around the stage calling for her prince while the monster is screaming and thumping loudly. But just before the monster catches the princess, the prince comes and fights off the monster. After an exciting battle, the prince always wins and marries the princess. They have watched it many times but they still enjoyed the thrill.
The game they played to get the money is just as thrilling as "Rakkhosher Deshe." They all have fun in this because it is no different than playing hide-and-seek or gollachhut. They take a bag heavy with some product that they don't know about and they have to cross the border without catching the guard's eyes. They would slowly approach the huge fence and tie the bags on their back. At first, it felt really heavy and they would fall. But after a few attempts, it didn't bother them anymore.
They would climb over the tall fence with the bags full of heavy things on their back. They would jump on the other side of the fence and walk slowly along the large barrier that divided the two countries. They walked slowly so no one would suspect them for smuggling. When they are done handing the bags over to a fat man with a thin mustache they would cross the fence to this side and run again.
And they are running now, today faster than ever. Today the thrill is throbbing throughout their body because there are people screaming behind them with loud bangs of gunfire. There is no time to look at others, you just have to run through the empty field of kashful where there is nowhere to hide.
Run as if the monster from "Rakkhosher Deshe" is chasing you. You have to keep running until you reach the Ichamati because the river is your savior.
Run like the living wind. Run like a leaf trapped in storm.
Run as if you are chasing a falling kite. And before the kite falls, you have to reach a place where your bloody shirt won't be as scarlet anymore, where Ichamati will absorb all your pain and embrace you again in its eloquent affection.
The writer is a student of English Literature, Jahangirnagar University