It is true that I cannot remember my date of birth. Even My mother cannot. Father could not have too. It might also be surmising for my Grand Father, they did not like those merrymaking. Fortunately, I am on my very way.
In our family, it was never seen that we, the brothers and sisters are planning impatiently for someone's birthday celebration. Though we all have a unique date of birth, ---however, are not authentic. Those pretty single days were registered first time in our school. From the day I got to admit for Class-II, I could remember, ---Huzoor-Sir put some numerals against my date of birth. That date again was changed by the Principal, when I had been in preparation for qualifying the Scholarship Exam at Class-V. At the time of enrollment for Final-Exam, my random date of birth was settled finally. The Head-Clerk granted me a new birthday, and said, No more change, please!
My eldest Sister's only grand-daughter is a tot. A month ago, my sister appeared surprisingly in our Mother's place from her son's house. Old Mom seems quite satisfied with getting an unexpected close to her Big daughter. She gives her daughter to eat these and these, ...put on these, ...those. She begins to hum the cradlesongs at night for her, tell the fairytales, ...the story of Kankan-Mala.
My eldest sister asks the mother at midnight with the unfolded eyes, "O Mom, would you remember my birthday?"
"What happened, my babe?" Old-Mom asked in a faint voice.
"Grand daughter's birthday is coming, now my son wants to know about my date of birth also.' She said.
"So, ...what you let him know about?" Old-Mom inquiring.
"I told, what else you would do on knowing my date of birth? My son is contemplating to celebrate my birthday also, beside his daughter's birthday, from now." My sister replied.
Old-Mom was listening to the daughter's words astonishingly, playing with her hairs by the fingers. A few rats then arouse to run inside the room. The Lantern placed at the corner begins to flicker. A distant sound of snoring starts to wave around, ...and a frequent cry of some unknown child of disrupted sleep gets into the room from somewhere else.
Old-Mom knows what next would be going to say by her daughter. That she knows very well, so she keeps on smiling silently. She could remember that night of deluge, remembrance of intolerable pain, ---sensation of first pleasure. The autumn pain, the pain alike winter fall. Under the clear moonshine of springtime who was born, however, she cannot remember now. Though It was never in her mind, yet she was attempting to remember, which may make her smile a bit indifferent. My sister was also trying to smile, but failed, and fell asleep.
My Old-Mom took bed beside my sleeping sister. After a long time, she is in a feeling of sleep tonight. She noticed quite a few greying lines in sister's hair before falling asleep. Veins are bulging on the temples, blood is throbbing there inside. She could remember her mother, had she ever appeared with greying hairs?
My mother's hair is black like the tomb. I see the moon is leaning over dark. Provoking all thirst and hunger. Here, I get to stop at this point, to recollect myself, yes, I am the brother of that sister.
I am indeed unborn until today. Will never be. What else would be better on being born?
Translated by
Shuvadeep Barua
Translator
Shuvadeep Barua
Fiction Writer.
Shuvadeep Barua
Translator
Shuvadeep Barua
Fiction Writer.
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