Last month, I broke up with her. My emotion was solid.
Perceptions clear. Less commitment, more freedom with no strings
attached—that’s what I call life. My idea of absolute bliss.
But, it didn’t come. None of it. I felt as wretched as ever.
It dawned on me-- my mistake, her forgiveness—that’s what I needed.
But how could I foist on her the responsibility for absolution
when I was the one in error? I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Should I? Could I?
I was the new Hamlet, despairing to be or not to be.
Finally, my raw remorse and subtle sorrow made me call her.
No answer. Mailed her. Texted her. No reply. I knocked again and again into a void.
I was refused entry. I went to her house. She was not there. Where are you, Anna?
Would I never be forgiven?
At last, she called. She wanted to see me. We met under a bruised sky. I smiled.
She smiled back. I asked her if she missed me the way I did. She said yes. I was elated.
Who said there is no second chance? A new Hamlet would write a new tale.
Let’s start afresh, I said.
She said no. Her anger was solid. Like justice.
I was so sure of a sunny day, I didn’t see the sky blackening.
The sky took the colour of a pale grey. Regrets were like fuel. With them,
I returned to my empty abode.
Author Bio:
Marzia Rahman has an MA in English Literature from the University of Dhaka. She is a freelance writer. Her articles, translation, book reviews and short stories have been published in The Daily Star, The Independent, Dhaka Tribune. Her article Bringing Light into Darkness published in 2008 has won her CSF Journalist Fellowship Award for best report. Her stories have never been published in any international journals or online magazines. She found out about The Voices Project by surfing in the internet and she found it welcoming and friendly towards emerging writers. Currently she is working on her debut novel. In addition to writing, her interest includes painting.
Perceptions clear. Less commitment, more freedom with no strings
attached—that’s what I call life. My idea of absolute bliss.
But, it didn’t come. None of it. I felt as wretched as ever.
It dawned on me-- my mistake, her forgiveness—that’s what I needed.
But how could I foist on her the responsibility for absolution
when I was the one in error? I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Should I? Could I?
I was the new Hamlet, despairing to be or not to be.
Finally, my raw remorse and subtle sorrow made me call her.
No answer. Mailed her. Texted her. No reply. I knocked again and again into a void.
I was refused entry. I went to her house. She was not there. Where are you, Anna?
Would I never be forgiven?
At last, she called. She wanted to see me. We met under a bruised sky. I smiled.
She smiled back. I asked her if she missed me the way I did. She said yes. I was elated.
Who said there is no second chance? A new Hamlet would write a new tale.
Let’s start afresh, I said.
She said no. Her anger was solid. Like justice.
I was so sure of a sunny day, I didn’t see the sky blackening.
The sky took the colour of a pale grey. Regrets were like fuel. With them,
I returned to my empty abode.
Author Bio:
Marzia Rahman has an MA in English Literature from the University of Dhaka. She is a freelance writer. Her articles, translation, book reviews and short stories have been published in The Daily Star, The Independent, Dhaka Tribune. Her article Bringing Light into Darkness published in 2008 has won her CSF Journalist Fellowship Award for best report. Her stories have never been published in any international journals or online magazines. She found out about The Voices Project by surfing in the internet and she found it welcoming and friendly towards emerging writers. Currently she is working on her debut novel. In addition to writing, her interest includes painting.
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