Winning Sehri tales of Ramadan, day 24
Top entities for the prompt ‘Fair’, by popular vote.
Writer: Tanim Ud Dowlah
Noah knew it was inevitable, the day when Mummy was explaining how Dad was taking a little time off. When the vacation extended to an indefinite period of time, Noah knew Dad won’t be coming home to tuck him in bed at night.
At first Noah felt he did something wrong. He shouldn’t have asked for the Death Star LEGO when he already got a set for Christmas last month. He shouldn’t have thrown the countless tantrums for reasons he can’t fathom now. Mummy wasn’t the same, she rarely got out of bed unless it was to get him ready for school or meals. Noah longed to rewind back to all the days he could’ve been better to only bring back Dad.
Dad finally came home, he had a forlorn look as he looked around the house. Noah quietly watched from the stairs. He didn’t know how to greet the man whom he loved so much, the man who had abandoned him. Mummy was in her room, she packed the rest of Dad’s clothes and asked Aunt Sally to give it to him. Noah fought back tears of anger as he realized game nights, summer camps, swimming in the lake on weekends were all a distant memory now. Noah bolted down the stairs and ran out of the house leaving his Dad stunned. As he kept on running with no destination in mind, he didn’t understand why his family was falling apart, it just wasn’t fair.
Writer: Tashfia Ahmed
"Fair Game": A Conversation Between the Two Brain Cells I Have Left
Writer: Nazia Haque
It is a full moon fair evening,I am standing on a flyover under the sodium lights, I am watching people returning home from their daily works.Someone is going nest with hoping of some unspoken happiness,or Someone is going home after upbraid by his boss.Someone is going home with full heart of melancholy.Every one is running towards their home.I am watching them.No one is even looking back at me.Even no one have drowned at my standing.I just look at them. I look at those strange people of this city ---- in my mind, in my imagination.
wait what? Imagination!
Yes-I tell myself,it’s my imagination.I'm in quarantine. Tonight I have completed my 2 months of quarantine. I have been in the world of imagination for so long.I feel itching in my heart.I miss my city,my inverse, inpatient, busy city.I feel how much I love this Dhaka city.I pray that my city will be healed very soon,with full of fair fresh air.
Writer: Tareq Adnan
The Things We Steal
My brother oscillates between being very quiet and being very loud. When he talks, there’s this stentorian quality to his voice, it fills up a room. And he talks a lot. When he’s quiet though, it’s hard to notice him. He has that curious ability that some extroverts do, the ability to fade away.
He was by far the friendlier of us. There were more colors to him, he smiled more. But when we were kids, we would make fun of him for his darker countenance. It was so much fun to gang up on him. If he took his shirt off in the heat, we’d point to his armpits and laugh. People would exclaim at how fair someone was and then completely fail to look at him. Or if they did, they’d tell him not to walk in the sun.
I don’t know if it was subconscious but he’d get scolded more. Simple things like a mistake on a homework assignment or for being loud, which was his forte. They seemed to be an indictment of his character. He was the son who couldn’t. I never once felt bad for him.
He started losing weight when he was in his teens. So much weight. He wouldn’t eat and the malnutrition would show on his face. He would get yelled at; relatives would scoff at his appearance. Look how kalo his face looks.
He was so quiet.
I stole something from him. I don’t know how to give it back.