“My husband never let me to wear the color white. His favorite color was orange. I never liked that color. I misbehaved with him all the time. Because I was tired, I was very tired of fighting poverty alone. One day, he brought an orange color saree for me, that day we didn’t had any food at home, I took the saree from his hand and set it on fire. He grabbed it and tried saving it from the flames but it was already burnt. But I did not know then that he bought the saree with the money he received from performing in a festival. I never showed interest in his anything. He never received my support.
My husband loved to sing, he learned to play the violin on his own. I spent my days in terrible poverty, hunger and helplessness. He never paid any attention to any of these things. He was always happy and sang songs all the time. My children loved their father madly, for them he was a magic. Sometimes he used to sing song for me and I turned him off by showing my angry face. I thought my man will continue to make fun for me throughout my whole life, there was no need to pay attention to him, and there was no hurry to know what he had to tell me.
He never brought a single penny after participating in any event. One day, he sat down to eat after returning from a function. When I asked him about the money, he said, he sang for satisfaction and not for money. I took away his plate and threw it outside immediately. I was always stayed that mad. Sometimes I lost my mind and asked him to leave the house, asked him to leave us. He never got angry with me, he laughed or sang a song and would reluctantly say, ‘I have nowhere to go, I cannot live without you all.’ Most of the time, I cried at night by thinking what I would do to survive. And my husband spent his nights cuddling our children. He never complained, he was never tired.
Then one night he did not return, his boat had an accident. That night, everyone survived except him. No one found his body. Till then, I never wear white saree, every night I bring out his violin and place it on the bed where he used to sleep beside our children. I keep some warm rice every night, in a hope that someone will knock on my door, will beg me to open it, will promise me not to be late again, will tell me that he can never leave us at any cost.”
– Momena Begum
My husband never let me to wear the color white. His favorite color was orange. I never liked that color. I misbehaved…
Story By – GMB Akash
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