Silent Farewell: A Story of a Memory

Silent Farewell: A Story of a Memory

— Author: Ohi Rup

Our first meeting was at the historic War Cemetery in Chittagong. It was a strangely beautiful afternoon, a gentle breeze was blowing, and it felt as if time had stopped all around. You were walking slowly through the place, your eyes deep in thought, as if your mind was sensing everything one by one. I was watching you from afar, and with every step you took, it was like a secret message written in the pages of history was sinking into my heart.

Your eyes held such profound depth that I was mesmerized. I wondered, what were you thinking? What was it that you saw which I could not?

Gathering a bit of courage, I stepped towards you, though every step felt like a wave of nervousness inside me.

“What were you looking at for so long?” My voice trembled slightly.

You smiled softly, but the mystery in your eyes remained intact.

“The place is beautiful,” you said, “but there is nothing here.”

“Nothing?” I asked,

But you didn’t answer.

Suddenly, you wrapped your shawl around me.

That touch made the whole world seem to freeze.

Startled, I said, “I don’t even know you, why are you giving me this shawl?”

You said gently, “You were shivering in the cold, it didn’t look good at all. Keep the shawl, and if you don’t want to, then just throw it away.”

I couldn’t say anything, and your leaving blended into the chilly wind.

Years passed, but that white shawl you gave me stayed with me, like a strange shadow of time.

Many times I wondered what you meant by that strange “there is nothing here” line. Why were you feeling that place so deeply? And why did you not answer my question back then?

After many years, suddenly, we met again.

Time seemed to have come back as a companion to that old courtyard of memories.

I hadn’t brought the shawl with me, and the words stuck in my throat escaped,

“If I had known we would meet today, I would have brought the shawl.”

You smiled and said, “If you don’t want to keep it, then throw it away.”

The language of your eyes was the same as before, but this time, in your eyes, I felt like a different person.

You looked at me like a little girl,

who is amazed and staring at you,

as if hearing about a corner of the sky through the eyes of an old friend.

You started observing the place deeply again,

and that same mystery returned to your eyes.

Our eyes met again, but you said nothing.

Just for a moment, you looked at me and then left once more.

Yet this time, I know — I am hopeful.

I believe we will meet again,

You will remain the shadow of my memory,

And I will wait—

When will you come again,

When will you appear before my eyes,

With that mysterious gaze and cold touch of yours?