“Bang! bang!” gun fired in the air and some loud cheers followed. “Long live Ch. Nabeel Ahmed” crowd were chanting. People were dancing, and celebrating their success over their opposition. This was not any usual night in the village named Faridpur.
“I cannot sleep mom” annoyed by the continuous gun fired and loud music Jalil couldn’t control his anger and complaint about a lost cause. “God will curse them for not letting people get some rest”, Jalil’s mother Bibi Haneefa looked at him with hopelessness and replied.
Next morning was the same as before. Bibi Haneefa woke up early, offered her prayers and began making breakfast for Jalil. Her son was in eighth grade. Her husband died four years ago and she was forsaken with a broken house of merely a room and a lot of debt. She had to work as a maid to run her little family. It is said that everything happens for a reason. Bibi Haneefa was still in phase when she couldn’t figure out the reason for all that was happening with her. Yet she didn’t grumble.
Ch. Nabeel Ahmed was one of the rich landlords of Faridpur. His control over the villagers was so immense that no one would dare to go against him. He had everything that a man can wish for. Respect can be achieved by two means: by good deeds and fears in the hearts. Certainly, Ch. Nabeel was no angel.
It was a blazing hot day of July. Jalil got ill and like every poor parent, Bibi Haneefa took him to a local doctor. Usually, the medications given in these clinics are colored syrups. They do not have any effect and by chance, if any of those do, they are not efficacious on poor people, Jalil’s condition kept on getting worse than before. Bibi Haneefa ran out of money and luck. She had to take loans from a handful of people and was subjected as an object deprived of any worth. She unwillingly bore with all the cruel remarks though unjustified comments they were and was willing to do anything for the most important part of her life, her son.
No rain means a drought is ahead. People knew that a hard time was upon them. People started to become miser. Times like these actually tests and unmask the real face of a person. Bibi Haneefa had no work to do, neighbors closed their doors onto her and even those who once called her as their family was nowhere to be seen. In desperate times like this anything that can help looks like a silver lining in dark clouds. Thought of going to Ch. Nabeel Ahmed gave Bibi Haneefa some hope. Her son’s condition could not let her sleep for many days. She could not eat nor get any sort of rest, getting weaker day by day.
Jalil hadn’t eaten for about two days. He would vomit anything that would go into his system. Bibi Haneefa was restless. Seeing her son suffer was like millions of knives stabbing her, slowly but effectively. She ran to the house of Ch. Nabeel Ahmed. It was an afternoon time. She kept on banging the door hard. No one answered. She cried and asked for help. She begged. Finally, someone answered the door, Came out a person with some flour and a few coins. He told her to get lost. She wouldn’t go. She implored and cried as her son would die if no one helps her. “Sahab Gee (master) is sleeping, come in the evening” no emotions were shown and a verdict came by the person who opened the door. In hot summer day of July, Bibi Haneefa cared not a bit about the threatening heat that would bake her like bread. She stayed by the door in hope that someone would come. Hours passed by and finally, she was allowed to enter the “Hawali (mansion)”. She was not surprised by the money or the charm of the accessories that Ch. Nabeel had. What matter the most was the help that she was seeking for. She had to wait for few more hours with a constant worry about her ill son at home unintended while Ch. Nabeel Ahmed was having dinner with his family. She was hopeless so she kept quite as that seemed as the only hope for her. Ch. Nabeel Ahmed came and sat on his chair. Bibi Haneefa sitting on the ground came close to his feet and begged for the help. While smoking his “Hukka (smoking pipe)” Ch. Nabeel Ahmed listened just enough for a minute that made him annoyed so much that he took a thousand rupee note and asked his servant to give it to Bibi Haneefa and show her the way to the exit. She didn’t want to go, yet she was dragged all the way to the gate.
Running towards the broken home, Bibi Haneefa stumbled across a brick and fell down. She didn’t care about the “dupatta (piece of clothing that women place on head)” that fell down or the blood flowing from her forearm. She rushed into her house but scattered into pieces on finding her son’s cold body. Her world had fallen. She could not breathe. All that kept on coming into her mind was how her son was annoyed by the gun firing and loud music being played all night that was not letting her innocent child sleep and how Ch. Nabeel Ahmed was irritated in just one minute. He was rich, he could help, he could save that boy’s life but in his eyes, he was just another useless soul that had nothing to do with him.
Power is something that can be a blessing or a devastating weapon. Ch. Nabeel Ahmed had the power and the resources to help but in his court, Jalil lost the case, in just a minute!
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