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It was another usual evening of pleasant sadness. There were just a few minutes left for sunset. The western sky was as red as fury eyes.
The old bus was no longer crowded. The seats were almost empty. Only a few passengers were scatteredly sitting here and there.
Shibly completed reading another page in his book.
Trees and buildings were jogging in the backward direction.
Everything was symbolically reflecting his life. He was also about to start with a fresh new page in his life.
A toothless old man of his grandparents' generation was sitting next to him. More people got down at the next bus stop.
The old bus was not crawling on the usual bumpy road, like in the old days. The post-war government policies had prioritised infrastructure development. So the road had been appropriately carpeted.
The old man next to him was talking to Shibly and was telling him many stories of his past.
It was fascinating for Shibly to listen to old people of his grandparents' age. They belonged to an era of simplicity. How complicated life has become within the matter of two generations…!
The towering mountains and the red skies in the west were embracing each other after a day-long separation.
The countryside settlements came one after another. They reminded Shibly of many generations of Sri Lankans who lived in these lands for years.
Shibly had given his mind to these scenes of awesome nature. If he passes two more bus stops, he will reach the halt where he has to get down.
'Is Marudur the next stop?' Shibly asked the old man for confirmation. At first, the old man did not understand. It was only after asking him again a little louder, that the old man understood.
'Yes .... there is a lane next to the bus stop ... if you walk along it, you will reach Marudur, son,' the elder said in Sinhala.
'Thank you, grandpa .... Let me go and come..’ Shibly stood up, took both his travelling bags and pressed the bell.
The bus stopped with a growling noise.
Shibly got off. The bus was gone.
The sun was slowly hiding behind the blanket of darkness. Shibly turned his gaze around. Various thoughts were taking root in his mind. Now the Adhan for the sunset prayer would have been pronounced.
The place Shibly got off the bus looked as though it was almost empty of any human existence. Few cottage-like buildings were seen in the distance here and there, distancing from each other. They were standing as if every building was eager to protect itself from an epidemic.
A name board in both Sinhala and Tamil saying the distance to Marudur 01 km was hanging. It must be a name board that has been hanging for more than thirty years.
He waited for a three-wheeler. They never showed up.
Three-wheelers have become part of our lives in this country whether we like them or not. It was strange not to find a three-wheeler. So Shibly started walking.
This is going to be his first job, a teaching job. Shibly is going to be a teacher in Marudur village school.
He was unemployed for a while after graduating from the university. The government gazette announced a competitive examination for the post of graduate teachers. Shibly decided to sit for the exam.
Why should he not become a teacher? Teaching has always been a fascinating profession for him.
He always wanted to be a teacher. After all, both his parents were teachers. They had lived a comfortably stable life.
His grandfather was also a teacher. He was a powerful man in his village in the era before the economic liberalisation.
They had a deep sense of job satisfaction as well.
The idea of becoming a teacher was welcomed wholeheartedly by both his parents. So he sat for the exam and was successful. He got the job and was deeply satisfied.
He thought it would be a great privilege to serve in Marudur, one of the backward villages.
The idea of getting a teaching post was not without its downsides. It is a profession that is not going to make someone rich. Shibly could never make a fortune out of it.
It was the point when he sensed a change in the emotional climate in his extended family circle. For all these times, he had been treated well by everyone. Maybe it was because he had the potential for future financial success.
He could sense a paradigm shift in the way he was perceived within the family.
There was a rumour within the extended family that one of his cousins, Nifra, might be given in marriage to Shibly.
He had played with her when both of them were young kids. They had never met afterwards, except for a few seconds of unavoidable accidental meetings in a wedding ceremony or a funeral.
That was all.
There was not any sort of Romeo-Juliet tale. Still, Shibly had a special place for her. He had thought that she could be a perfect match for him for no reason.
What was the point of all these things now? Everything had now changed. All such dreamy things sounded as if they belonged to a previous ancient era without any sort of relevance to the present.
The climate had now completely changed, where everything was reconsidered and redefined.
Life is harsh when it wants to teach someone the realities of life. No one could ascertain the true magnitude of godly wisdom for all this turbulence.
The whole trouble had started when he received the appointment letter for his teaching profession.
His uncle had clearly expressed he had no intention of giving him his daughter in marriage when Shibly has no financial potential for a fortune.
What was the next move then? Nothing.
Shibly is not a hero and life is not a cinema.
He washed his hands.
Everything that had never started in the first place was now over.
There must be someone whom the god created for him, Shibly thought. It was obviously not going to be Nifra, never.
The pain in his mind had still been lingering from time to time. He apparently needed some time to cope with it.
*****
Shibly’s Diary
I just want to forget the bitter-filled past and concentrate on the present. What is my duty right now?
There are hundreds of students whom I have never met or seen. It is my responsibility on my shoulders to guide them and make them prepared for the future in the best possible way.
Engaging ourselves in meaningful activities is the best possible healing for a wounded heart.
I read a book by a famous psychiatrist when I was at university. It was an autobiography-like book. Confined within the concentration camp of Hitler in Germany, he himself was a Holocaust survivor.
He was talking about Holocaust survivors in his book. How could people possibly manage to cope with the new realities of life? How could people get out of trauma after losing everything in their lives, including their loved ones? This was what he was talking about.
I am not a Holocaust survivor. My reality of life is not as harsh as that of a holocaust survivor. Not even a tiny fraction of it. It will be the joke of the year comparing both. Doing my teaching properly would be a sufficient remedy for my wounded heart.
*****
The walk that sounded like a thousand miles of the journey came to a halt. Shibly had eventually reached Marudur.
It was a tiny Bazar.
A couple of grocery stores.
A tea store.
A meat stall.
A saloon.
Few other small shops of miscellaneous nature.
The streets were damaged and were not so clean and neat.
Next to the Thajudeen Tea Store was a small Thayqa mosque. There were a few lines of houses in the neighbourhood. The village was not so affluent. It looked somewhat densely populated for its size.
Shibly must pray the sunset prayer. He was starving and exhausted. Travelling bags in his hands were giving him a hard time.
Shibly checked his mobile phone. There was plenty of time to pray. He must swiftly eat something and then pray. He was unable to pray with an empty stomach.
He entered the Thajudeen Tea Store and sat on a smoky table in a corner.
'What brought you here, son?', an unfamiliar voice asked him.
Shibly was astonished for a second.
(To be continued)
Riza Jaufer
Akurana - Kandy,
Sri Lanka
(This is just a work of fiction. Characters, events and the places in this story are mere products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or people, living or dead, is merely coincidental).
