Saturday | 11 January 2025 | Reg No- 06
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Saturday | 11 January 2025 | Epaper

Blissful Melancholy

Published : Saturday, 2 September, 2023 at 12:00 AM  Count : 2168
Aynun Nahar Esha
She has been sitting quietly for some time, 3 hours32 minutes to be precise according to the clock. She is on her bed, leaning against the wall.

And after the long pause, she suddenly asked, 'What's the English for 'dukkho bilash'?

'I don't know. Some sweet words, unfortunately enough, don't have equivalent English words. In other words, you can't translate them. I guess your dukkho bilash is something like that', a male voice responded, the words spoken softly yet clearly.

'C'mon, at least give it a try. Think of it as a test.'

'Okay. That's basically the pleasure of sadness. But hey, how does "Blissful melancholy" sound?'

'Ah, perhaps a 6/10'

'Oh yeah? You do it then!'

' I couldn't , that's why asked you.'

'Bet you can do no better than "Morbid relaxation"', he smiled as he teased.

Then they both fell silent. She looked at the clock. 3.49 AM. She likes this part of the morning. Quiet, dark, and peaceful- complete contrast to, say, 10 AM in the morning when it's just so noisy and crowded and bright and people happily call it life. She reached out for the cigarette pack on the bedside desk. She took one out of the pack and lit it. The packet, quite ironically says, "Injurious to health".

She laughs and lets out a blow of white smoke, which swirls and goes up and then vanishes away- just like her chain of incoherent thoughts.
 
'That's bad for health', he says.

'Have you ever seen those actresses smoking in cinemas? What a grace to look at'.

'First, you aren't in a movie. Second, you don't look cool with that. Third, you cough.'
'Just not used to it, yet.'

'You better not.'
'You talk a lot.'

'Whoa, talk right and you are uncool. But you know what; every great man in history went through the stage of being misunderstood. Now it's my turn.'

'You are no good man.'
'Prove it.'

'You left tons of scars inside me I never healed of.'

'And it was a two-party act. You did even worse to me', he said bitterly.

'I guess we both suck'; she knew this argument would get nowhere and nobody wins.

Another long pause followed. It was interesting the way she was feeling: of being awake and being asleep, she was somewhere in between. It feels so surreal and dreamy. She keeps her eyes closed.

'Are you awake?' he asks.

She slightly tilts her head, maybe a nano inch, and he knows she could hear.

'You know, I was thinking', he says.

'Mhm...what...are...you...thinking...' her voice tired.

'That why people do stuffs that are "Injurious to health."'

'Why...is...that?', she was so sleepy it took her longer than usual to finish up a sentence.

'Because people love dukkho bilash.'

She could hear it all and understand it all even though she felt like his voice was coming from somewhere she doesn't really know of.

But she knows for sure the sweet little lie she has delicately fabricated inside her brain- the voice, the voice she was so used to at some point of her life, the beloved truth she held dear more than anything- is just imaginary conversation with herself.

'So, you are my dukkho bilash', she utters quite consciously.
'Sleep, my darling.'

She is deeply asleep now, and completely calm. The burning cigarette gently slips out of her soft fingers and falls on the curtain, quickly catching a tiny little flame.


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