Fiction

আইতা

Unable to tell if she had eaten or not, I saw her tears of ignorance. In a weak voice, she said "খালো নে নাই জানো, পাহৰীয়ে গলোঁ নহৈ।". Her answer left me with despair. I could not contain my own emotions and rushed out, leaving her weary of the many questions that rose in her mind. Somehow, I felt like she knew that something was wrong with her. Our eternal source of joy, now lay with a pale visage. Her wrinkled hands, intertwined in mine, provided me with a warmth of solace.
The smell of the crispy Nimkis she used to bake for me, still lingers in my memory. The white মেখেলা চাদৰ she drapes over herself, her distinct scent still lingers in my heart. I miss who she used to be, the quiet one, the meek one, the taciturn white-haired one, who saw us off till we disappeared over the horizon. Her memory has now shrunk to naught, yet she remembers me. I hold her in my embrace everytime I see her, for I am scared. I imagine myself to be forgotten by her, to make it easier if, when I see her next she loses me too.