Romance, Full Moon and Nostalgia

 

A low beep from my cell phone woke me up in the middle of a Friday afternoon nap. I groped around my pillow looking for the cell phone. I held it up before my eyes. A text message from a long, unknown number appeared on the display looking something like an overseas one. As I checked it out, a pleasant surprise removed the drowsiness from my eyes. I read the message a couple of times: “I am coming. You will get flight details soon. Natasha”. My mind traveled back by 8 years to a winter morning in Moscow at an underground railway station.

I was about to get on the subway “Hey, hey, you Indian!” I looked back and saw a brown-haired white girl waving at me holding an envelope in her hand. I approached her with puzzlement in my look, still I couldn’t figure out what went wrong. Handing over the envelope to me she asked, “Is it yours? I saw it fall out of your bag when you picked up your stuff.” I took the envelope from her hand, “Yeah, it’s mine. A letter from my mom, thanks” I said and added extending my hand, “So nice of you, this is Mahfuz from Bangladesh.” We shook hands as she said, “I am Natasha, nice to meet you too. Sorry, I thought you are from India” She spoke with a courteous smile on her lips. “I would be very sad if I lost this letter. It’s so valuable to me.” I said to thank her again. “Is it because it’s from your mom?” She asked. “Yeah, she writes the loveliest letters to me. Her affectionate words don’t let me feel lonely while I am away from home. Today just because of you I didn’t lose such a priceless thing.” I replied with gratitude. “That was my pleasure. Anyone else would have done that. Anyway, you speak English quite well. How long have you been in Russia?” she questioned, walking by my side. “Around three weeks” I answered. “How about sitting somewhere to talk over a cup of coffee?” I offered. Natasha looked at her wristwatch. “Okay, but you are going to miss your train” she said. “It doesn’t matter. I got back my mom’s letter, got to know a pretty Russian girl like you—what else is needed?” This time my words made her laugh a bit louder, “Oh really, thanks! To be more precise, I hail from Chechnya, my mom is Russian.” She added.

Natasha is coming to Dhaka! I instantly turned on my laptop to check my email. I could not wait to learn more about Natasha’s tour plan. The text message just made me restless. My curiosity, patience and anticipation to meet her after such a long time knew no bounds. I had sent my last email to Natasha almost a year ago. So I had doubts whether she has the same email address. I didn’t contact her for nearly two years but she still remembers my cell number. I felt grateful to Natasha and felt annoyed with myself. Anyway, I took no time to send an email to her expressing my tremendous delight at the news that she would come all the way to Bangladesh. Besides, I wanted to know her itinerary.

Natasha replied next day including her flight details. She has been a doctor for last four years in a hospital of Hong Kong. She is coming to Dhaka on an official tour with a delegation team from Hong Kong in order to attend a seminar on cardiac medicines hosted by a private medical college in Dhaka. “Thanks to email connectivity, I didn’t lose contact with you. Now after long eight years, we may bring back the weekend evenings we passed together in Moscow, though this time it’s going to be in your capital. A change of venue will make it more interesting I hope” Natasha wrote in the email. Her air ticket couldn’t be arranged at a time with her teammates. So, she would arrive alone one day later. I was delighted to learn that because I wanted to greet her at the airport for myself.

Receiving Natasha at Dhaka airport was a marvelous moment. She was smiling, leaping like a kid when she spotted me on the other side of the glass wall waving her hand. I extended a hand to relieve her of the trolley carrying her baggage. “Mahfuz, I couldn’t sleep last few days thinking about meeting you after such a long time. This moment is all like a dream!” She exclaimed in Russian, still holding me in her arms. “Same to me Natasha, I can’t express either how overwhelmed I am” I said as I led her out of the airport.

I had hired a cab which was waiting outside the airport. We left for the hotel where a room had been booked for her ahead of time. I dropped Natasha in her hotel room and came back home.

I didn’t meet Natasha next day as she was occupied all day long with her official chores. She called me up in the evening over my cell phone going back to her hotel room. She said that she was free the following day and asked me to take her around Dhaka city. I had made plans like that earlier on taking half a day leave from my office and selected some particular places to visit with Natasha.

Natasha’s appreciation for Bashundhara Shopping Complex made me happy. She said it’s as nice as some shopping malls she had seen in Russia and Hong Kong. She purchased quite a few things: some hairclips, three long skirts, several pairs of stockings and some jeans trousers. She was surprised finding things so cheap in Dhaka. It saved her a lot of money, she said again and again. I bought her a perfume and a saree as gifts. She took those gladly. “Would you please put it on just once before you leave?” I asked. “Sure, why not? I often see Indian and Bengali women wearing sarees on TV channels. Even I have a few Indian ladies working with me in Hong Kong. One of them once showed me how to put it on.” Natasha replied, keenly checking out the patterns and folds of the saree.

Later on I took her to the National Museum at Shahbagh. She walked across different rooms eagerly looking at the artifacts, exhibits and antiquities. Simultaneously, I helped her like a tourist guide giving brief details about the historic objects on display so that she would realize the basic facts and figures of our past history. She was very impressed with the galleries that contain photographs and artistry representing our liberation war. She also admired the paintings by Joynul Abedin, S M Sultan and Quamrul Hasan. “I had no idea there are such great artists in your country.” Natasha exclaimed. “All the paintings are lovely; say a lot about life, earth and people. Specially, the muscular, symmetrical figures in S M Sultan’s paintings are just amazing! How strikingly he glorified the laborious class! These are no less spectacular than the pieces of art by Picasso.” She raised her eyebrows with praise making me feel proud of our painters.

Gradually Natasha’s tour was coming to an end. “Last few days were excellent” Natasha said as we were sitting at the airport departure lounge. “I didn’t even imagine it would be so much delightful moving around with you”. Natasha’s voice sounded just as warm as her words. “I have the same feeling, Natasha and it’s going to be sad to see you off.” I said looking into her eyes.

“Hong Kong is not too far. Come on a tour for just two or three days. My hospitality would not be too bad either.” Natasha said smilingly.
“Sure, I am looking forward to that right now. Keep in touch by emails and occasional messages.” I looked at my watch. “Natasha, I think you should move now. It’s almost time.”

Natasha said “Mahfuz, whatever you do, please don’t give up writing. Your verses and articles are moving.” 

I gave Natasha a hug putting a kiss on her forehead. Natasha disengaged herself from my arms, picked up her handbag and started walking with her trolley towards the immigration check-in. I waited as long as she remained within my eyesight. Natasha waved her hand at me one last time before disappearing behind the glass door into the crowd of other passengers.

I came out of the airport musing over the remembrances left by Natasha. I looked up at the sky that the plane carrying Natasha would fly across after a while. The sky was beaming with moonlight like the light and beauty that encloses Natasha all the time.

 
Mahfuz Ul Hasib Chowdhury
is a contributor to different
English newspapers
and magazines.