Slept in District…Woke up in State

Posted: March 27, 2015 in Bengali, Social
Tags: ,


Rebecca woke up after barely five hours of sleep. Whole night people shouted, cheered, enjoyed to the fullest. Her small face, sleepy eyes were unable to understand the reason. It seemed like everybody was happy for a single reason. He didn’t see such happiness in their small hut also. Outside the weather was a bit cloudy and none was in her room. Room means a whole house. Her father had a small hut, consists of one room and in that a small kitchen space in the corner. She looked around but her mother was also not nearby. She thought of crying a bit to make noise so that people around her come to know about her waking up but controlled. She came out of her small bed, walked around the door and there was no happiness outside. There was no sign of last night’s cheer, actually there was none outside. Then she got a bit scared and slowly gathered tears in her eyes and then accompanied that with sound. She started crying.

Rebecca was a small child, who didn’t know it was not the time to cry, but to celebrate. 0n 26th March, 1971, when the sound of bombing stopped, the eardrum got some rest from constant but intermittent riots, she was no more in a district. A country born in the midnight and Rebecca woke up in a state. A night, a few treaties and outburst of dormant unstoppable celebration declared their own liberty second time after the first time it was tasted not even a quarter of century before.

In the year 1947, when after long two hundred years of violent-nonviolent freedom movement concluded in to partition of a big country in to two parts, one naming Dominion of Pakistan and other Union of India. Rebecca wasn’t born then. Her father was raised by his sole mother, whose husband died in riots while she was pregnant but she also died within two months after giving birth of Rebecca’s father. Some separatists or riot mongers tore her young helpless body in to pieces after raping brutally. Two months old Rebecca’s father, by birth who was a Hindu was raised by a neighbour Muslim, a farmer’s family. Yes, Rebecca’s father didn’t expect his daughter to face the same problem of what he had to face in his life; no father wants his children to face any difficult situation.

Rebecca was crying. She was just a four year old kid. None was in the room and she started feeling hungry. She was missing her mother, whom she always found around her. Slowly, with one by one step, she reached the door. It was open. She looked up; there was no cloud in the sky. Spring was ready to leave happily after handing over the duty to summer.

Suddenly she saw a few people running and another group of people chasing them. Though she was kid, but was enough mature in a night to understand they were not celebrating their liberty. They were still fighting for their self proclaimed rights in exchange of blood.

She immediately stopped crying, actually she forgot to cry. A night made her well aware of a thing, what was a district yesterday, became a state overnight and she had no control over it except, accepting a post Holi celebration of blood with many more people from all the religions, colours, whose bodies were scattered on the road, yard, and fields. There were no live hearts.




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