Home

We waited for more than half an hour before the physician arrived. Surma, my wife, was panting as I sat beside her.

-When will he come? she asked restlessly.
-He’s on his way, I replied.
-Is it traffic?
-That’s common here. How do you feel?
-I can’t breathe properly.
-Do you want water?
-Please.

Just then, we were called in. Dr. Chowdhury, the renowned cardiologist, examined her calmly.

-How do you feel?
-My whole body feels like it’s burning inside.
-And next?
-I feel extremely thirsty at midnight.
-What about the pain?
-Sometimes it becomes so severe that I can’t breathe at all.
He asked for the reports and studied them carefully. Then he turned to me.
-Please ask her to wait outside for a while.

My heart sank, but I stayed composed. With a faint smile, she asked, Is it something very serious?

-No, not that much, the doctor assured her.

She waited outside again. After some time, the doctor said quietly, “Her condition is very grave. I find no solution. She is in her last stage. You may take her home."

-I was speechless.

When I returned, she asked, “What did he say? Maybe I’ll never be cured?" 
-No, I said gently. He prescribed some medicine. We can go home.
Her eyes glittered. Then when will we start?
-In a few minutes.

We left around 2:30 pm. She was cheerful. Our children spoke to her on a video call.
-Well, Baba, I’m coming, she said happily.
Are you okay, Mamoni? Our younger one asked.
-I feel better. Don’t disturb your brother.
My son, a sixth grader, takes care of his sister well. Their chachima cooks for them, and they help her. As evening approached, Surma spoke of the past.

-Look at the mustard field—how beautiful!
-I nodded as the bus moved slowly.
-Please try to sleep, I said.
-Not now. Do you remember the days after our marriage? Those village roads, the greenery?
-Yes, I replied, smiling sadly.
-If I die, let me sleep here, in my own place.
-Inshallah, you will live long.
-She smiled, let me close my eyes for a while.

I rested her head on my shoulder. She fell asleep—and never woke up. As the sun set, she journeyed peacefully toward eternity. I carried her body for the next two hours until we reached home—the place she truly wanted to return to.