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Ice cream

Published : Saturday, 4 January, 2025 at 12:00 AM  Count : 1976
Moinul Abedin
“Ma, bring ice cream for me"- Zannat mutters from her bed down with an unbearable headache for days.

The tin shed room is a huge grill of invisible fire roasting everyone alive.  A rusty stand fan is naggingly gurgling in vain only to inflame the hot air inside. Even in the morning any respite from the sweltering summer heat is a distant dream. Zannat's father and her other two siblings, struggling to sleep at night, exhausted and irritated, went out where nobody knows. Zannat has no other options, she vomited twice at night and now craves that her mat would somehow turn out as a chunk of ice. 

The other day Zannat's father returned home feeling sick, totally unable to beat the murderous heat any more while pulling the rickshaw. Zannat's mom also did not go to work for the last few days in fear of the blazing sun. Now there is no money nor food at home. Zannat couldn't be given any medicine so far. So her mom has to brave the ball of fire today anyway. When Zannat uttered the word ice cream, she felt a desired cold and relief in her withered throat and screamed back in the affirmative. 

She tries to cover her head and face while walking on the almost deserted street. The infernal sunray is testing its assault on her body before gaining the hellish momentum in the upcoming afternoon. Her face begins to scorch, her empty stomach burns as she leaves last night's fermented rice for her children and husband. Sweat is dripping inside her torn saree, she feels dizzy and disoriented. She might request the madam today to give her something to eat first before beginning the dish washing. 

Suddenly, she sees a slice of blood-red watermelon on a van, flies circling it. Her throat gets more parched, she licks her lips. Zannat loves red color, she is very much fond of red saree, red henna and red lipstick. She would marry her off to a rich man who can buy a fridge, television and AC for her. 

After ringing the bell on the 5th floor, a husky looking maid opens the door. Soaking the unkind words in her betel leaf juice she grumbles, since she has been absent for a long madam has appointed her. Madam is not at home now and she can take a rest for sometime and then go.
 
Zannat's mom slumps under the fan and gets motionless. Madam's two kids are playing around. She notices a fat wallet nearby. Without a single thought she grabs it tight, hides under her saree and surreptitiously and silently climbs down the stairs. When she comes in front of the van of watermelons again, she takes out the wallet but finds nothing except for many visiting cards. She throws it utterly disgusted and spits.

She drags her heated and heavy body, huffing and puffing. How can she show her face to Zannat without an ice cream? 

When nears her tin shed house she hears screams. Her heart skips a beat. Rushing into the house she glimpses Zannat still lying on the bed, others surrounding her. She jumps on her body and touches her forehead. It is cold, ice cold. 
She begins to  shiver, not out of cold though.


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