A Pair of Dirty Shoes - Mustakim Billah

 

Brother, please leave the shoes outside; the house has gotten dirty. Hearing this from uncle, my father gets up from sitting and goes to leave the dirty shoes outside, taking my shoes along with his. 

After leaving the shoes outside, father wipes his shirt with his hand and sits on the sofa. Everything in the house is as clear as glass, except for my father’s shirt, which is dirty. Although it didn’t seem too dirty at other times, now, after coming to this house, it seems much dirtier. 

After wiping his shirt, father sits on the sofa, and I notice a yellow stain on his shirt. Though mother had washed it, she couldn’t remove the stain.

Father curls up on the sofa, and I sit curled up like him. I also try to be careful so that no dust from my feet touches the floor, mimicking father’s actions. 

Father is talking and laughing, while uncle is sitting silently with a serious face. He looks just like my school’s math teacher, who I’ve never seen smile. Does uncle never laugh? Well, uncle does laugh, I’ve seen him laugh with his children and talk cheerfully with aunt. But since father arrived, uncle has been sitting with a serious face.

Father says, "Shawkat’s mother is not doing well. If you have around twenty thousand taka, give it to me. I will return it in two months." 

Uncle replies, "Brother, I don’t have money now. And look, don’t expect me to always lend money to you." 

Despite hearing this, I noticed the same smile on my father’s face. Does father not feel bad? Or is it that people can bear everything when they are in need? The same gentle smile on father’s face, is this what they call a smile of poverty? No matter how much insult one faces, one has to endure it with a smile on their face.

Uncle goes inside the house. Just then, uncle’s elder son, Rokon, arrives. Rokon is my age, in class six. Though Rokon and I are the same age, our lives are different. Rokon’s room is full of toys, while my room only has a broken helicopter that father bought three years ago.

Rokon comes and sits beside me. He asks, “Have you ever walked inside snow?” I reply, “No.” Rokon says, “We are going to a snow country for a trip.” Just then, uncle calls Rokon from inside the house, and he goes inside.

Father comes out of uncle’s house, and we both stand on the road. Inside uncle’s house, there was cold air, but it’s extremely hot outside, and the sun is shining brightly.

Father and I walk together. Father’s face no longer has a smile, and he is walking seriously. Father smiles when he goes to ask for money from someone. Like when he goes to buy groceries on credit, or when he asks uncle for a loan, he keeps a smile on his face. Father believes that his smile will solve many problems, but nothing ever gets solved. The shopkeeper refuses to give him groceries, and uncle refuses to lend money.

While walking with father, I ask, "Father, where is the snow country?" Father doesn’t reply. I ask again, "Do they build houses out of snow there?" Again, father doesn’t answer.

I start imagining a picture of the snow country in my mind. Father looks at me and asks, "Do you want to drink lemonade?" I say yes.

A man selling lemonade is standing by the side of the road, ten taka per glass. Father buys two glasses of lemonade. The man has small empty bottles, and father buys one glass of lemonade for mother as well.

We walk back home with the lemonade bottles.

Since mother became ill, she can’t spend much time in the kitchen. If she stays too long near the stove, she starts having trouble breathing, and her cough won’t stop. When she coughs, it feels like all the air in her chest is coming out.

Mother starts coughing again, so father runs to check the curry. Mother gestures for me to open the window, and I open it. When the cold air comes in through the window, her cough reduces a little.

Father comes back from the kitchen and gives mother a glass of lemonade, saying, “Drink this, it will cool you down and help with the cough.” Mother doesn’t drink it, she covers her face with her scarf and lies down on the bed.

Mother needs thirty-five thousand taka for her treatment. Father managed to get fifteen thousand, but he couldn’t arrange the remaining amount.

In the evening, father’s friend, Shahidul Kaka, comes to visit mother. Father gives his signature awkward smile and asks Shahidul Kaka for some money for mother’s treatment. Father says that if needed, he can mortgage his shop to get the money.

Shahidul Kaka says, "What are you saying? You can just give me a little, and that will be enough. Come to my house in the evening, I have some money. I was planning to put it in the bank tomorrow." Father’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

Mother’s treatment is funded with the money given by Shahidul Kaka. It takes about two months for mother to fully recover.

Our life returns to normal. Father continues to give Shahidul Kaka some money every month.

I have just started class seven. During the school’s break time, while coming down the stairs, I trip and break the nail on my right foot, and blood starts oozing out.

At that moment, I see that Shahidul Kaka has come to school. He places his hand on my head and then walks toward the library. As he exits the library, he tells me to take my school bag. I say, “But Kaka, my school hasn’t finished yet.” He replies, “I’ve talked to your teacher; there’s an urgent matter, and we have to go.”

I get into the rickshaw with Shahidul Kaka. He remains silent the whole ride, not saying a word.

When we stop in front of our house, there’s a crowd outside. I push through the crowd and enter the house. In the courtyard, there’s a big mango tree, and next to it, there’s a cot with father lying on it. He isn’t speaking. Mother runs to me, hugs me, and starts crying.

The shopkeeper across from father’s store describes father’s death. "I saw him drinking water from a bottle. Suddenly, he sat down on the chair and fell down. We rushed to him, but it didn’t take long. When we took him to the hospital, the doctor said he was already gone." After telling this, the shopkeeper also begins to cry.

Many relatives and family members come to see father, including uncle. But by evening, everyone leaves. At night, mother and I are alone at home. In the middle of the night, mother starts having trouble breathing again. We have to take her to the hospital.

In the early morning, after mother recovers, we bring her back home. Shahidul Kaka has also arrived at the hospital after hearing the news.

There’s a problem with the shop. No one is available to manage the store. Mother decides to sell it. She talks to Shahidul Kaka about it, and he suggests keeping the shop and hiring someone to manage it.

Shahidul Kaka hires a man named Hashem to manage the shop. Hashem doesn’t have any greed inside him. Sometimes I sit at the shop in the afternoon.

With the little money that comes from the shop, it becomes difficult for us to live in the city. We leave the house. Shahidul Kaka offers us a place in the attic of his house, and mother and I live there.

Since mother is giving extra money to the shop worker, she decides to start sitting at the shop herself. It’s difficult at first, but mother adjusts. She used to handle men’s clothing, but after sitting at the shop, she slowly starts selling women’s clothes like sarees and salwar-kameez.

After passing intermediate, I get the opportunity to enroll at Chittagong University. I have to leave mother and go to Chittagong.

When I am in my second year at university, mother falls ill again. She has two saree shops in the market. After she falls ill, she can’t spend much time in the market. Shahidul Kaka takes care of everything.

Shahidul Kaka’s eldest daughter, Naomi, comes to give food to mother every day. I want to leave my studies and stay with mother, but that opportunity never comes. Mother tells me that she is fine, and I shouldn’t leave my studies.

After a few days with mother, I have to return to Chittagong. But my heart remains with mother.

Naomi, Shahidul Kaka’s daughter, is two years younger than me. She cares for mother very much. Naomi calls mother "Khalamoni" (aunt). Even though Naomi isn’t related to us by blood, she takes very good care of mother. She’ll come to our house at least twenty times a day, calling her "Khalamoni" every time, though much of what she says isn’t necessary.

After graduating from university, I come back to Dhaka. I am looking for a job and also checking in with Shahidul Kaka about the shop. However, mother insists that I focus on finding a job first. If I don’t get a job, then she says I can take care of the shop.

One evening, a year later, mother is sitting on the roof, and Naomi is braiding her hair. I stand in the corner of the roof, too shy to go closer to mother.

Naomi sees me and tells mother, “Khalamoni, your son has come.” Mother says, “Say something.”

I can’t speak; my throat tightens. If I say something, I feel like I’ll start crying. Naomi turns around, sees that my eyes are filled with tears, and says, “Khalamoni, you should stand up.” Mother stands up, and seeing my tears, she rushes to me. She says, “What happened?”

I wipe my eyes and say, “Mother, I got the job. Your son is now a BCS cadet.” Mother also starts crying upon hearing this. Neither of us can stop crying.

My first posting is in Khulna. I decide to take mother with me. After hearing this, Naomi becomes sad. The night before, she came and cried by mother’s side.

After Naomi leaves, mother asks me, "How do you feel about Naomi?" I say, "She’s fine." Mother asks, “What if I arranged for you to marry Naomi? I think she likes you.”

I don’t say anything, just walk up to the roof. Mother follows me and asks, “So, you don’t like Naomi?”

“Mother, Naomi is a good girl.”

Mother laughs and says, “Well, that’s true.”

Three days later, I marry Naomi. After the marriage, Naomi starts calling mother "Khalamoni." It feels beautiful, because "Khalamoni" is another form of mother. After that, Naomi always calls mother "Khalamoni."

Two months later, one night, Naomi’s father, Shahidul Kaka, visits us in Khulna. It’s his first time visiting us here. The rainy season is here, and it has been raining for the last three days. Shahidul Kaka comes inside the house and sits on the sofa. Naomi comes and says, “Father, there’s water all over your shoes. Let me take them outside. Give them to me.” I tell Naomi to stop.

Some old memory stirs inside me. I look at Shahidul Kaka and say, “You sit here with these shoes for a while.” Shahidul Kaka sits comfortably. I look at him, and it feels like I’m seeing father after a long time. If father were here today, this big house, everything clear like glass—just like uncle’s house. If father were sitting here now. Looking at Shahidul Kaka’s dirty shoes, my eyes begin to tear up.