Fifteen Days MSF Sadib

Through the gaps in the bushes, the wind blows over black water that looks like tar. Green Bhatiali crawled unknowingly along the shadow of watery nightmares, like the piss of a newborn child’s subconscious. Sattar had been staring at his shadow in the water with sleepless eyes since last night. There was a soft sound moving into and away from the water. Some natural laws may never change. In that sense, the water in the vaitiali area is now indicating the existence of its last true nature through the sound.

Sattar lowered the basket from his head and tied a tight knot in his lungi. After two weeks of continuous rain, the wind is now calm. There is neither a thunderclap nor the black eye of a cloud. Sattar’s sweaty body took a sip of fresh air, and he looked at the contents of his basket again. The ownership of the basket belongs not to him but to his grandfather, Hamidur Bakshi. Sattar’s great-grandfather was a wandering man. He came to this remote Bhati region one day while wandering around the districts. No one knows where he found the similarities between the lives of the struggling people of this waterlogged region and the turbulent lives of the restless. Hundreds of miles of river erosion and flooding downstream stood the patient Vatai region, as if developing a stoic philosophy amid the onslaught of monsoon floods. Hamidur Bakshi, on the other hand, was a restless bunch. As there’s always attraction between opposite poles, Hamidur Bakshi decided to spend the rest of his life in the heart of a water abode. He married off, and thus the Sattar family line was discovered.

Hamidur Bakshi can no longer testify on this planet; only his family and the next generation of his bloodline have an invisible link to the sky beyond the reach of living consciousness.
“That Buira Beta must have had an obnoxious worm in that frail head of his!” Sattar grimaced and clenched his jaw. “If he hadn’t had these whimsical thoughts and had stayed in the town, I wouldn’t have to live to go through these dark hours!” The wrath of the words made his mouth frothy with sour spittle.
Sattar’s destination was a distant village. The residents are helpless. Only the shadow of a tormented future can be seen in the reflection of waist-high aqua. Rain is not a luxury here. Since the beginning of time, the people of Vhatiali have prayed to the invisible creator.as they continue to waver, just like water with a tanned shimmer. With every drop of rain, Sattar’s anxiety wave grows. Looking at his little girl’s face, he couldn’t squander time holding up in this lowland. With the leftover vegetables remaining at home in his inherited basket, Sattar left for the nearby village. Little Munia was peering at the tiny holes in the basket. The torn threads of the basket had given up their prolific shame in the circle of life.
“Chacha, you ought to row a bit faster,” said Sattar in a dazed tone. The reason for the rush is also justified. If it’s late, they don’t want to sell anything later. But the biggest danger is the lessee. They are taking extra leases from outside sellers through this opportunity.

“I’m going out fast, Mia!” Jamir Chacha gasped. He took a deep breath in the middle. And through his old voice, he pulled a Vaali song from a rigged memory.
“Chacha, when are we going to see the face of land?” “If not all of us will perish in a terrible state of starvation,”
Jamir Chacha says nothing. Jamir smiled and sang a new one. Many curious people like Sattar have asked him similar questions hundreds of times over the course of time. And this is perhaps the most frequently asked question in his seventy-year journey. And he had always responded with such a smile. The murmur of water has always answered in his favor. He has been a boatman for half a century and has faithfully embraced the idea of retiring as soon as the flood ends. Sattar is his last passenger; who knows?
“Will you be able to sell anything at this late hour in the hut?”

“Chacha. I do have to try. The paths of life have long since diverged. Neither land nor water knows where true life exists. I can only do what I’m supposed to do.
Jamir shook his head. “Why don’t you move somewhere else?” You are young. Your vitally still steams high. “You must fathom the perception; it’s difficult to make an end here, you see.”
No one knows where the bond really lies here. Aquatic nightmares tarnish dreams again and again. Sattar is befuddled by the enchantment of life that lurks beneath the water, and he doesn’t know how to break free. Sattar couldn’t answer any of Jamir’s questions. Both of them kept quiet. They’re gradually closing in on the village. After these fifteen days, the lower region is submerged, and only the sleepless eyes above are awake. Today the sun has witnessed the misery, but the irony of fate will make it adore this place again. These rules will not be manipulated, just as the desire to survive another time will not be manipulated as well.