(11.01.2011)

Hi everyone, good evening from Germany. I hope you are doing well. I am also fine. Today I’m going to write about a day I could relieve from my past and which day and why that day it would be. Let’s deep dive into it.

I think it’s the day my father died. The day was really heartbreaking for me and it just shattered my whole world. I still remember the day so vividly that I can’t forget it. It was really heartbreaking for me.

It was 11 January, 2011. In the morning at around 7 or 8 Am, my father asked me to wake up and if had a tuition to attend. I was a college student and I used to go to my College teacher to study Mathematics in the morning. That day I had a really strong ear ache. It was pretty common during the winter times that I had ear ache. Because my tonsils used to swollen up and it used to ache a lot. I gently told my father that I didn’t want to go to my tutor because I have strong ear ache.

My father left for his school. He was a math teacher in a high school in other side of the river. That’s called Shaoraid Ucchobiddaloy. And we used to live in Palash Bazar. It was a small town with around 2 thousand people. Even though it was a small town, it was beautiful. I have so many memories there. However, that day, when my father left, I woke up. I had my breakfast and then went outside. I went to the riverside, as it was sunny. Even though it was winter time and foggy, there was beauty in the mixture of foggy morning with the Sun shining.

There was a place built for hydroelectric power station near the riverside. From that side, the power station used to pump water from the deep river with some large pipes. On top of it, there was a bridge like thing to observe the whole place. It was one of my favorite places to roam around. That morning I was doing the same with some of my friends.

It was around 10 Am. I was gossiping with my friends. Suddenly I saw a troller (a oil engined boat) coming from Shaoraid to Palash. A man was lying on the boat, I could not recognize it was my father. When the boat reached the ghat (when the boats gather), there was a crowd trying to take the man to the nearby clinic. After 30 minutes, someone informed me that my father is hospitalized to a nearby clinic. I rushed there and the doctor declared him dead.

I couldn’t but resist my tears. I felt so heartbroken. Few minutes later, my mother came rushing and crying. It was so loud that it felt like the whole place could hear her screaming. Within minutes, the whole place became so crowded because almost everyone knew my father and my family. As I have mentioned, it was a small town. Hours later, my father was discharged. We used the same boat to go to Shaoraid and from there we used a Tomtom (a oil engined ride like old time CNGs). It was full with people but I was still crying. I didn’t know how to stop it. I just couldn’t.

Although my relationship with my father wasn’t great, I knew I used to love and care for this man. Day by day, the relationship between us may have gotten bitter but I wasn’t expecting his death. What I was just expecting, was to escape my home. And here I am living abroad for the last 6 years.

However, we reached our village home at around 2 or 3pm. Everyone knew about my father’s death. Because the village home we live in was not far from the place my father used to teach. Literally everyone knew my father. And it was full of crowd. My maternal family was also informed. I wasn’t a huge fan of crowd. So, I was standing near a straw bundle.

I couldn’t just think about what just happened. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I wasn’t ready for it at all. I came from a lower middle class family. I had to through a huge economic crisis due to my father’s death. Besides, I also had a strong Oedipus complex due to my father’s early death. I couldn’t mimic his characteristics enough to build my own character out of it. Then later that day, my maternal 0uncles arrived in the evening. And the burial rituals started.

Even though I came from a Hindu culture,  the dead bodies aren’t burned but burried like a monk statue. So, the culture is a bit different from the mainstream. So, my father was first bathed and then given a monk’s clothes. In his eyes, two Tulsi leaves were put. My father wasn’t burried near any other family members of our family but separately. He was burried near our house. Normally the other family members was burried near our old house.   When he was burried, everyone chanted Mantras. He was sitted like a Monk and then burried.

That night we didn’t sleep in a bed because it is said that when a person dies, his family members don’t remain pure. Therefore, it is suggested to avoid the materialistic things.

Writing of my father’s death, I didn’t understand the depth of what I have missed that day. I was not aware of what consequences I would go through. I was just seventeen years old. I barely had any idea how a lower middle class family survives with the only earning family member left behind.

Then I realized the true nature of the world. I couldn’t study well for the next three months and I had HSC exams in April. I just lost the motivation of studying. My grades were pretty poor. It was A minus with 3.5 Grade. I just passed. I couldn’t manage money to study in a good university. My family started struggling financially and mentally. My mother was not educated enough to take my father’s job. So, it was a complete mess.

Besides,  deep inside I know I still miss my father. The worst part is that I could never say goodbye to my father. I wish I could. That’s why I wish I could remove that day. It just shattered my world.

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Have a nice day.