A Tryst with the River Padma

Faruk Kader

A Tryst with the River Padma-

 

The Padma is not what it used to be. The people of the Padma banks nowadays whisper this among themselves. This perception has been stirring their minds for some time. In the emerging dry season now, the matter could no longer be suppressed. No one has ever seen such a large sandbar near Bhagyakul Bazaar in the Ashwin month. The sandbar has pushed the main river southwards; the remaining flow is skirting Bhagyakul Bazaar through a channel that is hardly reminiscent of the mighty Padma.

One of the witnesses to the Padma river’s erosion-siltation drama is Madhu Majhi (a boatman). He no longer rows boats, but the Padma still draws him. The boatman stands by the bank of the dead Padma river near Bhagyakul Bazaar. From the reed bushes by the bank, Fuli’s voice reaches out to him: “Remember, I am a daughter of the Padma banks.” After searching for three days like a crazy man, the boatman found Fuli’s body there. Everyone said that for such a monstrous flood that devoured Fuli, the Padma’s confluence with the Meghna was the right location to find her. The boatman didn’t heed those words: “I know where Fuli could be.” Rightly so.

Fuli was born on a new moon night in the Shravan month when the murky floodwaters rushed downstream unbridled because there was no bridge over the Padma then. Fuli, only a few-days-old child, heard the flood water caress the reeds bush by the riverbank. She giggled so heartily at that sound! Another day, hearing Fuli call her mother “Maa, Maa”, the river water became restless. The boatman – who drifted like water hyacinth, never said where he came from; the few people in Fuli’s house didn’t feel the urge to delve into it; the people of the Padma bank do not care who came or went – began to believe that Fuli had some connection with the river water.

He went to Fuli’s father and said, “Mian Bhai (elderly brother), please get me a boat to take Fuli out on the Padma River.”

During the monsoon season, the floodwaters from the upstream spilled into the little canal by the Fuli’s father’s house. That was the time the boatman took Fuli to see the Padma River. The boatman sweated as he pushed his boat with a pole through the incoming floodwaters to reach the river mouth. Fuli was amazed to see the indomitable spirit of the floodwaters, the launches and large sailboats plying on the river, and the fishermen catching Hilsha fish. She felt so much curious about the river!

“Kaka (uncle), where does all this water come from and where does it go?”

“I don’t know where it comes from, my child. But I know this water travels far downstream to mingle with the sea.”

“Doesn’t the river flow upstream, Kaka?” Fuli’s curiosity soars high.

“It does; that’s the river’s ploy you have to understand, my child.”

Tied to the Hijal tree by the canal was the boatman’s boat, which literally was his house, door, window, and courtyard. When there was no other work, the boatman spent time on the boat. He used to do small repairs, smoke his hookah, and sleep on the boat day and night. The boatman developed a few shiny silver hairs on his head in conformity with others to seek fire and release smoke while puffing his hookah, which, for Fuli, was fun to watch. One day, she said,

“Kaka, do you have any name at all?”

“No one gave me a name, my dear.”

“Hee, hee”, Fuli giggled, and hearing it, a pair of sparrows fornicating on the boat roof flew away.

It is his bonding with Fuli that kept the boatman sticking to Fuli’s family for so many years. Fuli’s father too was happy to have such a trustworthy and hardworking person in the family. One day, in the blistering heat of the Chaitra month, overwhelmed by thirst, Fuli’s father called out to the boatman:

“Hey Madhu, pick a green coconut from the tree and give me the water; fill it in the brass jug with coconut flesh.”

Since then, everyone called the boatman Madhu Majhi (Madhu the boatman); somebody urged Madhu to slaughter a goat and do an Aqiqah for his name. Madhu couldn’t decide whether to laugh away the matter or be angry. The fact was, Madhu rarely laughed; didn’t get angry either, but it was evident that a lot of anger had piled up in him over the years. But Fuli’s call of “Madhu Kaka” (Madhu Uncle) seemed to wash away all his anger.

As time passed, Fuli grew up, and more grey hairs appeared on Madhu’s head. Engine boats gradually replaced the sailboats; the poles and oars almost disappeared. Then, Madhu’s boat remained always tied up by the canal bank. One day, after a long time, Madhu saw Fuli with an incisive look and said,

“Fuli, you’ve grown so much!”

Fuli had come to ask him to take her to see the fishermen’s boat race in the river.

“What did you say, Kaka?”

Bewildered, she then ran away. After that, Fuli came to Madhu Kaka’s boat less often. Since then Madhu Majhi used to sit on the boat, smoking his hookah frequently and wondering why Fuli didn’t visit him as often as before. However, Fuli felt sad about Madhu. She often asked him,

“Kaka, why do you stay alone? Why didn’t you start a family?”

Time does not stand still. In a Boishakh month, Fuli was married to Siraj from Bhagyakul. Soon after, Siraj left for Malaysia for a job in a palm plantation. Fuli never got to know what married life was! She didn’t get to know anything about Siraj, the person she married: his likes and dislikes and his temperament and idiosyncrasies. After Siraj went to Malaysia, Fuli stayed at her in-laws’ house in Bhagyakul for a few days against her will, then returned to her father’s house on Madhu Majhi’s boat, trying to hide her pain inside. Fuli’s sullen face on the boat might remind a piece of a cloud heavy with the Shravan rain afloat in the sky over Arial Beel. Many years ago, adolescent Madhu saw a similar expression on his mother’s face when he left her in Daulatdia’s red-light district. Madhu had hoped his mother would cry, but the stoic woman did not. His mother followed him; her last words to Madhu were,

“Don’t come back to Daulatdia again.”

The work at the palm plantation in Malaysia didn’t suit Siraj. After about three months Siraj came back home. Fuli returned to her in-laws’ house in Bhagyakul with much hope – the henna stains on Fuli’s hands had not yet faded – ready to start married life again. Sadly, the impatient Siraj was already thinking of going to Saudi Arabia, “Can you imagine!” He planned to go to Dhaka to meet his cousin Shahjahan to find a visa agent. That would require him to stay there for a few days. Fuli felt very upset hearing this, unable to hold back her feelings:

“What kind of person are you? Can’t you think about me for a moment, you only want to go abroad!”

“Fuli, I have to go; I don’t feel like staying in this damn country.” Siraj replied, not paying any attention to her.

“Then, before you go to Dhaka, take me to Baroikhali.” Fuli sighed, which hardly had any impact on Siraj.

Fuli called her father on the mobile, “Bajan, tell Madhu Kaka to come and take me home.”

“You hadn’t been at your in-laws’ for long, and now you want to come back to Baroikhali?” Her father retorted.

Fuli kept silent. Her father understood something wasn’t quite right with Fuli and said, “Alright, I’ll tell Madhu to pick you up; do come with Siraj.”

Siraj didn’t like the idea of going to Baroikhali by boat. But Fuli was not willing to compromise; Siraj had to give in to Fuli’s sentiment. Fuli’s father called Madhu and said, you need to go to Bhagyakul to bring Fuli.

After repairing the boat not in use for a long time, Madhu went to Bhagyakul to bring Fuli. The next morning, Fuli and Siraj set off on Madhu’s boat through the dead river of the Padma towards Baroikhali. Siraj sat at the boat prow, thinking about Saudi Arabia. Fuli was not thinking about Siraj; what was the point? She sat quietly under the thatched boat roof, watching Madhu Kaka skilfully row the boat. The boatman wore an old sleeved vest, torn under the armpit, which drew Fuli’s probing eyes; then she thought,

“I must buy Kaka a new vest, a T-shirt would suit him well.”

Madhu had picked up the oar after a long time; he feels good. He was rowing the boat as if stirring stew in a pot; sometimes he striked the oar at the river bed to check for submerged sandbar; sometimes he wiped sweat from his face with a torn and discoloured towel. In between, he took a break and asked Fuli to hand him his hookah. As Madhu puffed the hookah, the sweet tobacco smell made Fuli nostalgic. Madhu looked at Fuli with affection,

“Fuli, Do you remember the mischief you did?”

How could she forget that! Fuli used to go to Madhu’s boat whenever she desired to watch the spectacle of Madhu Kaka’s puff on his hookah and the smoke coming out of his nose. One afternoon, she climbed onto the boat and saw Madhu sleeping away a hot afternoon. A mischievous idea came to her mind! She took down the hookah and tried to imitate Madhu’s way of puffing. Immediately she started coughing violently, tears streaming from her eyes that made a mess with her nasal discharge. Hearing Fuli’s cough and cry, Madhu woke up startled; seeing Fuli, his eyes widened, “

What have you done, you crazy girl? If your father hears about this, he’d kill me!”

Then he took her to the canal bank, washed her face, and calmed her down. Finally, Madhu carried Fuli in his arms and handed her over to her mother. Clinging to Madhu’s chest, Fuli closed her eyes, enveloped by the sweet smell of tobacco from Madhu Kaka’s mouth.

Fuli looked around. The autumn clouds over the big sandbar seemed to tiptoe across the sky; sunlight filtered through the white and grey clouds, reflecting off the sand. While, the wind blew like the melancholic tune of a shepherd’s flute, swaying the white stems of the Kaash flowers. Fuli’s heart longed to reach out to the flowers and hold them on her bosom. Amidst the scattered Kaash flower bushes was a house of jute straw fence and thatched roof. Outside, an old, patched quilt hung on a dead bamboo pole, drying in the sun.

“How old is this quilt? Who knows how many layers of sarees have been sewn together to make the quilt!”

Behind the thatched house, a banana tree bore a heavy bunch of bananas, sagging like the full, milk-filled breasts of a middle-aged mother; at the bottom of the bunch hung a banana blossom! Fuli looked at the banana bunch and sighed:

“Oh! How delicious it would be to eat Padma’s Hilsa fish curry with green bananas, added with mashed banana blossom and red Aman rice!”

All around the Padma banks lives galore! A housewife from the sandbar settlement was washing dishes with ash by the canal. A naked child came running, jingling a brass bell tied to his waist with a black thread. Then, with a splash, he dived into the canal water. The frogs lurking quietly at the water edge leapt away in all directions. The splashes of water hit the housewife too; she got angry, these kids were so naughty! But then she laughed. A Drongo bird kept sitting on the top of a Kaash flower stem by the canal, wagging its tail as if it watched the antics of the naked child. Fuli watched too and softly said to herself:

“If I have a son, I’ll tie a golden bell to his waist, and a daughter, I’ll adorn her with a pair of golden anklets.”

An unknown joy churned Fuli’s heart, sending shivers through her body.

Last night, Fuli and Siraj madly loved each other. The tide of emotions swelling in their bodies and minds, like the monsoon floodwaters coming from upstream washed away Fuli’s shyness and shame. Siraj tore Fuli’s entire body apart like a wild boar does to a virgin sandbar. Fuli never experienced anything like this before! In the early morning, Fuli asked herself, what happened to her last night? His man now sleeps on the bed like a fallen dead tree trunk, completely oblivious. Fuli felt an intense desire to lie on Siraj’s hairy chest all day. She gently stroked the black curly hair on his chest. She wanted to touch his lips once. Not now, she admonished herself, let him sleep.

Siraj, sitting at the boat prow, was trying to talk to someone on the phone, but the line kept disconnecting to his dismay. Fuli vainly tried to get his attention; she was in pain.

“You came back from Malaysia only days ago, and now you want to go to Saudi Arabia; why? What is so urgent? What happened to your job in Malaysia?”

“What else could happen? I flattened the owner’s bulbous nose, that son of a bitch called me a bastard! Then the police put me in jail.”

“What! You didn’t tell me this!”

“I told nobody; telling you now.”

“Alright, with your hot temper, where can you stick for long?” Fuli was worried.

“Why do you want to leave me? Are we starving in this country? Come to me.”

Siraj shook his head,

“You won’t understand, Fuli. Have you seen our cousins? They all have built brick houses with Saudi riyals; they have colour TVs, fridges, ceiling fans; they sacrifice cows worth lakhs of taka. Have you seen their wives’ silk sarees and jewellery?”

Siraj’s voice got filled with frustration. Then, getting angry, he said,

“They have expensive mobile phones; do you know what Facebook, YouTube, Messenger are?”

Siraj’s words hurt Fuli. She couldn’t accept that there could be nothing else in life to desire besides all those fancy things. She remembered the last night. The man who made insane love to her at night, what attraction would keep him away in the desert country day after day, month after month!

Fuli wanted to share with Siraj her fascination with the Padma River. But Siraj had no time for Fuli. In one corner of the sandbar was a patch of area covered with dense green hairy pumpkin vines; the yellow pumpkin flowers bent their necks to see the sunlight. The new dense green hairy tips of the pumpkin vines were swaying in the wind like snake hoods. Suddenly, the pumpkin vines moved.

“Look Siraj, look, what a big monitor lizard!” Fuli was excited.

The monitor lizard was walking leisurely on the sandbar, its tongue flicking. It looked at Fuli once, as if it would suck her blood out.

“O my God!”

“Fuli, let me finish the call with Shahjahan Bhai, it’s important. Then I’ll join you.” Siraj dismissed Fuli, and she retorted indignantly:

“Go ahead, have fun with your Shahjahan Bhai.”

Frustration gnawed at Fuli’s heart: she would have relished his time with Siraj on the boat, and watched the splendours of the river! She heard people saying that the Padma was dying, foreign engineers were sweating to build a bridge over it, and still, they couldn’t dam both sides of the river—how could it be dying? She kept watching the Padma’s sandbars, Kaashful, and the crazy, tangled clouds of the autumn sky on the way to her father’s house. They would dock the boat on a bazaar jetty, and sitting at a nearby tea stall, they would sip thick cow’s milk tea with toast biscuits together – How passionately she looked for an intimate time with Siraj!

“This man has gone crazy about going to Saudi. He doesn’t want to listen to anything other than that. What if he forgets me after going to Saudi!”

“Could you please placate Siraj a bit, Madhu Kaka?”

“What’s wrong, Fuli? Why are you so anxious, my child?”

Madhu himself seemed a bit agitated. He felt like giving Siraj a whack on the leg with the oar. Seeing the boatman’s hardened jaw, Fuli composed herself; took a deep breath and said to Siraj:

“Hey, stay with me at Baroikhali for a few days, I can’t live without you, don’t you understand? Why are you in such a hurry? If you go, I’ll be very upset.”

Inside, she yearns to hold Siraj close; she kept remembering last night. Siraj didn’t say anything, fiddling with his mobile.

“Why don’t you talk?” Fuli urged.

“Don’t be silly”, Siraj tried to calm her.

“Give me your damn mobile, would you?”

Fuli thinks for a moment, then pledged, “Would you listen to me for a while? Come on, won’t you?”

The boatman muttered, “Hurry up, boy, before you regret.”

The tall, lanky Siraj lowered his head to go underside of the boat’s thatched roof.

Fuli put her mouth to Siraj’s ear, then whispered something.

“What are you saying, Fuli? You’re going to have a baby! Why did you create this mess, huh?”

Madhu gripped the oar tightly, trying to understand the situation, “Fuli is going to be a mother!”

“You call it a mess? Don’t you want children? Then why did you marry me?” Fuli got genuinely angry.

“Fuli, what do you want? Tell me.” Siraj became anxious to know.

“I won’t let you go to Saudi. Why do you want to go to that wretched country? Do they treat us as human?” Madhu kept listening to her, wondering, “What the girl says!”

“Why do I want to go to Saudi? My father incurred a lot of debt to send me to Malaysia. Won’t the money need to be repaid? Would you pay the money? Or your father? Go arrange the money, I won’t go to Saudi, that’s it.”

On the verge of tears, Fuli was truly upset this time. The man dared to taunt her about money! Madhu was very annoyed, glaring hard at Siraj with his jaw stiffened. Siraj turned away his face towards the sky, where white and black clouds were intertwined. The boatman stroke his oar hard in the water.

The wind was changing direction, and the atmosphere became stuffy. In the distance, a dredger was making loud noise as it cut through the riverbed, spewing out muddy water. Fuli felt as if a dredger sliced through her heart. If only the man would come and hold her close, explained things to her! Fuli felt betrayed and lied down on the boat’s wooden plank floor from sheer exhaustion.

Suddenly, a shower of rain came and petered out in no time. Fuli woke up with a sudden jolt of the boat. She sat up quickly, and saw that Siraj, also awake, was lying by her side.

Fuli asked Madhu, “What happened, Kaka?”

“My child, the boat has hit a submerged sandbar”, Madhu said while pushing the boat using a pole with all his might. But the boat didn’t move at all. Then, Siraj rolled up his pants and got into the water. He urged Madhu, “Kaka, you leverage with the pole, and I’ll push the boat.” Fuli, like a child, Kept insisting, “I’ll push the boat too, Kaka.” Siraj scolded her: “Sit quietly on the boat, Fuli. Have you forgotten that you’re carrying our child?” Madhu was somewhat surprised to hear this from Siraj.

Siraj pushed the boat through knee-deep water like a bull. Fuli watched Siraj and wondered, “Is this the man from last night?”

Finally, the boat reached waist-deep water. Both Siraj and Madhu were  exhausted and drenched in sweat. Siraj climbed onto the boat’s prow, panting, and Fuli wiped out the sweat from his forehead with her Saree’s anchal (edge). Madhu did the same with his torn towel. Then he picked up the hookah and blew on the extinguished tobacco ambers a few times to rekindle it, then puffed on the Hookah with relish. When Madhu was finished, Siraj said, “Kaka, let me take a drag too.”

Siraj then felt a strong attraction towards Fuli, just like last night. By then, Siraj’s reckless desire to go to Saudi Arabia was on the wane. It was late afternoon when they reached Baroikhali. Siraj finally decided to stay the night at his in-laws’ house, a good omen for Fuli. That night neither of them could sleep. Siraj was thinking about pregnant Fuli: “Let’s stay in Baroikhali for a few days, Fuli wants it so much!”

Fuli was awake, lying on her side, still holding a grudge against Siraj.

“Come here”, Siraj urges Fuli. Fuli turns her face and rests her head on Siraj’s chest, crying, “You won’t go to Saudi, if you do, I swear, I’ll jump into the river and die; remember, I’m a daughter of the Padma banks. Promise, you’ll stay with me.”

Siraj was ready to accept all of Fuli’s terms at that moment. “Alright, I promise”, he says, kissing Fuli on her lips. The sweet smell of tobacco from Siraj’s mouth albeit from Madhu’s hookah seems to spread over Fuli’s face like moonlight, making Fuli dreamy.

Siraj asks Fuli, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing”, Fuli answers.

Then she pulls Siraj’s hand close to her waist and whispers, “Hold me tight and never let me go.”

Sadly, Siraj couldn’t live up to his promise. Being a person of the Padma banks himself, he couldn’t understand Fuli; the allure of Saudi riyals took hold of him. Three months after Siraj left for Saudi Arabia, Fuli jumped into the river. At that time, a flood of a magnitude not seen in a hundred years, swept through the river. Everyone said that all the gates of the Farakka Barrage upstream had been opened.

Before that fateful night, Fuli came to Madhu’s boat:

“Kaka, was there a flood in the river when I was born?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, my child.”

“Is the water in the river rising a lot now, Kaka? Is that true?”

“Yes, my dear. A big flood is on the way, everyone is saying so.”

“Did you come to say something, my dear?”

“No, Kaka.” Fuli walked away slowly. It seemed Madhu couldn’t understand Fuli either.

Three days after she jumped, Fuli’s body was found in the reeds bush upstream of the Padma Bridge. Her belly was swollen like a fish full of eggs. After the flood, sandbars began to emerge upstream of the bridge.