A teenage story about the Liberation War Waiting

A teenage story about the Liberation War 

Author: Moni Haider 

Story Name: "Waiting"

Neelu Apu, She always smiles. Her smile is also beautiful. White teeth. When she smiles, it sparkles like the stars in the sky. I like her smile very much. We are four sisters and two brothers. You are the eldest. Our sweet sister. I am the middle and then the sister. His name is Shahin. Then our first brother. His name is Arif. Then our sister Seemu. Finally, our beloved younger brother Emon. Emon is the last of the wicked. I never know what he will do. He loves goats more than studies. If he sees goats in the house next door, he will have to buy a goat on credit. If he doesn't give it, he won't eat rice. Dad also loves us. He can't stand seeing anyone's sorrow or pain.

English Story " Waiting"

Father bought a black goat for Emon. Emon stays with the goat all day. He even often eats with the goat. Now the goat belongs to two people. Neelu Apa's son Hridoy. He has come to our house. Our house is very beautiful. There are walls all around. In the middle is a one-story house.

The building. Jam, betel nut, guava and mango trees surround the house. In the month of Phalgun, the house is filled with the sweet smell of mango blossoms.

Read more: Liberation War Story: It's August 15th at nightfall

Neelu Apa's wedding was held with great fanfare. Just as you are beautiful, your brother-in-law is also handsome and a handsome man. My friends are burning with jealousy for your brother-in-law. They don't have such a handsome Rajput brother-in-law. All of us, siblings, love your brother-in-law deeply. In fact, we don't have an elder brother. A sadness flows in our hearts. This pain cannot be explained to anyone. Your brother-in-law also loves us very much. Sometimes, we take him and my siblings to the riverbank. I like the river very much. The river is like a flowing bend of life. Many sad stories can be told near the river. I return home in the evening. The times are passing happily.

The brothers' house is near Dhaka University. It's a small, one-story house. But there aren't many plants like ours. The brothers run a business. Meanwhile, we are happy that our sister will have a child. We, the siblings, come up with various plans. We name dozens of names. We don't like any of the names. We want to give the best name in the world. The problem has arisen: will it be a boy or a girl?

Shaheen says - It will be a boy.

No, I say girl.

No, son. Shaheen is steadfast in his decision.

Okay, let's call Arif. What does he say?

mail

Arif?

what are you

Would you say Neelu Apa will be a boy or a girl?

After thinking for a while, Arif said, "It's going to be a girl."

I clapped my hands in joy - listen, Arif said it will be your daughter.

Shaheen says okay, I will call Emon?

Is this me? He comes running.

Tell me, brother, will Neelu be your son or daughter? Shaheen smiles with victory - I see, we are both.

Boy. Emon replied quickly.

I'm saying it will be your son.

I said there is still one left.

who

Seemu. I understand that Seemu will join the team. How is it?

The bet is Shahin - right.

I called Seemu and asked if she was going to have a boy or a girl.

Seemu defeated me and said, "It will be a boy." Shaheen won.

Okay, I said - so what should the boy be named?

Shaheen says- Nayan.

No, these are old names. We'll give you a name that's completely new. No one has given you one. I said.

Then you call me Mejh Apa. Call me Seemu.

Shall I say?

Shaheen supports the force.

Hridoy. Hridoy- will be the name of your son. I insisted. After much debate, the name was decided to be given in two votes. We five siblings got five votes. We also took our parents with us. We wrote the name on paper. There were seven votes in total. This time I won by five votes.

Read more: "Aajo Kora Nare" is a teenage story about the Liberation War written by Moni Haider.

Your son will be named Hridoy. He will be the red carpet of all our hearts. I went to sleep at night. In the morning, we will all go to see Hridoy's mother. You will be overwhelmed with joy when you have us all near you. While sleeping, I had a beautiful dream. You really have a son. He is cute. His face is filled with the light of the moon. He is like a child magician who has come from across the seven seas and thirteen rivers.

It's midnight. It's pitch dark outside. I suddenly wake up. My mother knocks on the door. And she calls out - Rita?

What? Why are you calling? I can hear loud noises outside. People's screams and cries are coming through the wings of darkness. A cold stream of blood flows through my chest. My body is shaking with fear.

Open the door, Rita - says mother. The sound of gunfire can be heard outside. I can hear people screaming and crying. Like me, mother's voice is also shaking. I opened the door. I didn't turn on the light in the darkness. Seemu, Arif, Emon, Shahin are also shaking with fear. Father has gone outside to find out what is happening. We all sit in the dark, listening to the distant gunfire. Suddenly Emon coughs. Mother scolds - be quiet. Don't make any noise.

It's amazing how people don't even cough a little. Suddenly I feel like crying. I'm not crying loudly, but slowly. I feel the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes with my hand.

Read more: "Floating on a Raft" is a teenage story about the War of Liberation.

After a while, Dad came in - everything is ruined, Mom, everything is ruined. Dad's voice was filled with sobs. I've never seen Dad break down like this.

What happened father?

They have attacked. They are taking the lives of the sleeping and innocent people of the city in the dark of night.

Who are they?

Pakistani Army.

So the discussion?

It's broken. Yahya Khan has brought thousands of troops from West Pakistan under the guise of negotiations. That force has jumped in tonight.

Emon suddenly asked - Where is Sheikh Mujib?

I don't know yet.

Dad?

tell me mom

Where did the attack?

In the main residential areas of Dhaka city. At the police line in Rajarbagh. There is a lot of commotion in the university area. People are fleeing. I heard everything from them. They have set many houses on fire.

Mother screamed - My Neelu, mother, what will happen to my Neelu?

Our hearts? Arif's scream

Will the people of Bengal be able to stand up? When will my miserable Bengal raise its head again from the clutches of these evil spirits?

The call to prayer for dawn rises from the minaret of a distant mosque. The whole mind and soul are enveloped in heavenly purity. Truly, Allah is great. He is our helper.

Rita?

Dad?

Go - there is no fear now. Perform ablution and pray with them.

let's go

This morning is a different kind of morning. No other morning in the world can compare to this morning. There is no noise. There is no response from people. All around is silence. Our entire neighborhood is a silent tomb. The living people are waiting with a fearful look of death. There are no cars or horses on the main road. There are no people on the streets. There is no daily chirping of birds. The heavy gunfire can still be heard. The smell of poisonous gunpowder is in the air all around. Even the leaves of the trees do not move.

Read more: A teenage story of the Liberation War, "Anis Saheb's Smile"

Rita Apa? I see Emon standing in front of me. It's morning. The sun in the east is slowly rising like an egg yolk.

What?

go see

I went to him. How amazing that our little flower garden is decorated in a new way today. Wherever I look, there are flowers. Countless flowers. Red roses. Lilies and sunflowers - so many flowers have never bloomed. I have never seen them before. My eyes filled with tears. I showed them to Shaheen, Seemu, Arif, mother, father, everyone. Everyone was fascinated. Today, everything has a different color. A different poster. All the troubles that were in my mind after the night have cleared up.

mother?

Neelu Apa is at the gate. Blood on her hands and feet, on her body, on her saree. Fear is shining in her two innocent eyes. A terrified scream.

I ran closer to you. I hugged you. My hands were covered in blood clots. My heart was pounding inside my chest like a train.

Tell me what happened. Where is my brother-in-law?

They have taken your brother-in-law. They have set the house on fire. I escaped with great difficulty. Rita, tell me how I will survive-

Shut up, everything will be fine.

On the other side, the sound of gunfire is heard again. Your labor pains begin. What a strange day for people. On one side, death is crawling at the door of the house. On the other side, life is revealing itself anew. Where is the strength to stop this fierce arrival of life? The Pakistani invasion army is defeated here too. Devastated. Ruined. The sound of gunfire rings in my ears. On the other side, your wailing. This abstract form of labor pain makes me cry, laugh, and think. It makes me listen to songs of freedom. I looked at the rose garden holding the window ledge - a brown butterfly is flying, flying, and flying. Everyone, including my mother, is near you. I am standing alone by the window. The butterfly sometimes feels like a single star. Sometimes a sailing boat. Sometimes a brother-in-law. The representative of our only elder brother. He was the colorful envelope of our sorrows, sorrows, laughter, and love. Where is he now? How is he? My eyes turn to the butterfly again. This time it looks like the flag of Bangladesh, drawn in a dark green embrace.

Ah-ah-ah, just then the newborn's cry came out.

The morning breeze feels free again. I ran to my mother. A tiny baby in her mother's arms. I looked closely - it was a boy. He is our heart. He is our identity. The flag of our struggle.

Then?

Many days, months, and years have passed. The heart is crawling, walking, and now it is much bigger. This year, it came first in the school's running competition. Its father has not returned. He will never come. There is a representative for him.