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Unsaid Desire

Published : Saturday, 26 April, 2025 at 12:00 AM  Count : 1043
Sumon Reza
Wasif Ahmed is a bank officer. He currently works in the audit department. Though his wife and children live in Khulna, he stays in Dhaka. Well, not exactly in Dhaka either. He roams around the districts of Dhaka division for audit work. He comes home to Khulna on Thursdays and leaves again on Saturday or Sunday. Some weeks, he can't make it at all, like this time, he came after a week's gap. He's meeting his family after nearly fifteen days.

It's Friday. A soft, quiet autumn morning still tinged with monsoon air. Last night's full moon lit up their room, but neither he nor his wife woke early. Outside, the sheuli flowers dried, untouched. He was supposed to gather them at dawn, place them in a plate beneath the mirror, so that when his wife stood with wet hair, water from her locks would fall onto the petals like dew. But they overslept.

Their two daughters, wise beyond their years, stayed quiet, keeping themselves occupied. When they finally woke, Wasif's wife rushed to the kitchen while he stayed in bed.

When they finally woke up, both Wasif and his wife felt a bit ashamed-and annoyed with themselves. Sleeping in this late was unacceptable. Sure, they could suppress their own hunger, but how were the girls managing all this time? They even felt a bit angry at the children for not waking them-but said nothing.

Wasif lay in bed for a while longer, but his wife jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. The kitchen was calling her.

After feeding the kids and tidying everything up, she finally sat down to eat. That's when she remembered-there was someone else in the house. The annoyance she had earlier toward herself now redirected at Wasif. He was still sleeping like a log. She plopped down right in front of his face. Just then, perhaps a single drop of water fell from the end of her hair onto Wasif's sleeping face.

It wasn't deep sleep. He didn't jump up-just opened his eyes, slightly stiff. Before she could say anything, he asked,
"Can you let your hair down?"

"Why? So you can sleep more comfortably?" she teased, making Wasif smile.

"No, it's just... when the morning drops of water fall from your open hair, it feels magical. Like morning sheuli flowers."
Whatever anger she had, it began to melt-though she didn't show it. Her blushed cheeks remained red, only now the reason behind the redness had changed.

"Stop these nonsense poetry."

"Okay," he smiled.

"And remember-you're on leave."

"Granted," Wasif replied with his usual calm tone that made it seem like he couldn't give a two-word answer without turning it into one. This time, it truly annoyed her.

"Are you trying to annoy me on purpose today?"

"Not at all."

"Then why do you agree with everything I say these days? Don't you ever feel like disagreeing?"

"You usually say what I already think."

"No, I don't. Not always."

"Why? Do you not enjoy things unless we argue?"

"Exactly! I like it when you get mad sometimes. This peace is boring."

"I've become like you, Arunima."

"I don't need such a submissive husband. You should get angry, even hit me if needed. When you returned from your trips, I used to check your call log, fight with you. I'd sniff your breath for arguments, fight over your red eyes. Now you've stopped all of it. This 'good man' act-I don't like it anymore."

"Then what?"
So, what should Wasif do? Should he go back to how he used to be? These questions swirled in Arunima's mind. Her chest tightened. But she couldn't bring herself to say, "Okay, go back to the way you were."

"I know you like to twist words and trap me. But not today. No more talking. I just want one thing-my holiday."

"You already got it," Wasif smiled. He knew Arunima did this sometimes-when she wanted outside food, or when she wasn't feeling well, or just wanted to lie beside him for longer.

But today, Wasif wasn't pulling her closer. That made Arunima feel a little hurt.

"You're not getting up?" she asked with a soft frown.

"Right now?"

"Did I say right now?"

"Alright then."
Now she truly lost her temper. His indifference made her want to claw at him. She raised her hands, ready to thump his chest-but instead of hitting, she collapsed onto him. Her fresh, warm chest fell onto his stale, sleepy one.

However, Wasif didn't go to the local mosque for Jumu'ah that day. He went near New Market, planning to grab lunch from Music Cafe. On the way, he met Shahin Reza, a writer for children.

"Hey Shahin bhai, how are you?"

"Oh, just here. And you?"

"I'm alright. That's a nice panjabi. Must be from your factory?" Wasif lightly touched it.

"My factory?"

"Yeah, where you work. Isn't that a sweater factory?" Wasif's words made Shahin frown a little.

"Listen, I work there. But it's not a panjabi factory-it's sweaters."

"Sorry, bhai. But it really is eye-catching."

"It was my elder brother's. He was a stylish man. Loved fine clothes. I'd kept them safely as memories... Just recently started wearing them."

"So when's the factory reopening?" Wasif asked.

"Maybe never. It's been four months now."

"And your salary?"

Shahin looked up at the sky. Then smiled bitterly. "Salary? Bloodsuckers, all of them. Four months pending, even the month before that. And the sweater? Oh, we can see it, touch it-but never wear it."

Shahin hadn't been paid in four months. "We make Europe's finest sweaters, but we don't get to wear one," he said before quietly walking away.

Wasif stood still, connecting dots. The factory had closed in August. His brother died years ago. And now Shahin wore his memories like armor.

He moved towards Music Cafe. At Music Cafe, a young waiter welcomed him.

"Kacchi biryani? It's our best, sir! Rich, fragrant, only 799 taka!"

"Is borhani free?" Wasif asked.

"140 taka, sir," the boy replied, smiling tightly.

Wasif leaned in. "You married?"

"Yes, sir. I have a two-year-old daughter."

"You ever tasted your kacchi?"

The boy hesitated, then shook his head.

Wasif's appetite vanished.

He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and said softly, "Bring me four packs of kacchi. And one more-for you."


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