SIX CHARACTERS IN SEARCH OF HUMAYUN AHMED

Characters
The Journalist: A tired young journalist working on a birthday tribute to Humayun Ahmed.
Misir Ali: Calm, observant and relentlessly logical.
Himu: Barefoot, carefree and cheerfully unpredictable.
Baker Bhai: Blunt, temperamental and fond of tea.
Shuvro: Gentle, kind and quietly 
philosophical.
Boro Chacha: Anxious and perpetually 
worried.
Elachi Begum: A mysterious woman whose appearance and behaviour shifts between three distinct identities resembling Kusum, Tithi and Rabeya.

Setting: A small, untidy bedroom in a flat in Old Paltan, Dhaka.
Time: Just before midnight, November 12, 2026.

SCENE ONE
(A noisy ceiling fan whirls above. A young journalist sits at his desk, staring at his laptop screen. An empty cup of tea, scattered papers and several books lay around him. He rubs his eyes and sighs.)

JOURNALIST: Two hours. Two damn hours! And all I’ve managed to write is that Humayun Ahmed was a literary phenomenon and a couple of key facts of some of his famous characters that are widely known to everyone. Dull. Absolute garbage. Even my tea has lost interest in this article.
(He takes a sip and makes a face.)
Cold! Wonderful. Just like my imagination.
(A voice comes from the darkness.)

BAKER BHAI (offstage): Do some real work, brother! 
JOURNALIST: (Jumping up) Who’s there? Who’s there?
(Just then six figures enter the room. Misir Ali leads the group, followed by Himu, Baker Bhai, Shuvro, Boro Chacha and Elachi Begum.)

JOURNALIST: (A bit scared) Hey! Who are you people? How did you get past the security guard? Police! Police!
BAKER BHAI: Silence, brother. Do we look like thieves?

JOURNALIST: Six strangers entering my flat at midnight? What else am I supposed to think?
MISIR ALI: Technically, we didn’t break in. The door was unlocked.

JOURNALIST: It was not!
MISIR ALI: Then we have an interesting mystery to investigate.

JOURNALIST: Please don’t! I’ve already got enough problems.
(Himu climbs onto the desk and picks up the tea cup.)
HIMU: (After having a sip) Terrible tea.
JOURNALIST: Nobody asked you to drink it.

HIMU: I didn’t. I’m only observing your taste.
BAKER BHAI: Look at him! Walks around barefoot all day and now thinks he’s a tea critic!

HIMU: At least I don’t spend my life looking for trouble.
BAKER BHAI: Trouble usually finds me. I don’t have to look for it.

(Boro Chacha examines the room anxiously.)
BORO CHACHA: This is highly irregular! Where are we supposed to sit? Why is the room so small? Has anyone informed the landlord? What if he comes?
SHUVRO: Don’t worry, Chacha. Let’s hear what the young man has to say.
JOURNALIST: Actually, I’d like to know what you’re doing here.
ELACHI BEGUM: We’re looking for Humayun Ahmed.

JOURNALIST: What?
ELACHI BEGUM: He’s our creator. We’ve been looking for him every November for fourteen years.

JOURNALIST: Wait. You’re his characters?
MISIR ALI: Precisely. Six characters in search of an author. Although our circumstances are somewhat different from those in Pirandello’s play.

JOURNALIST: And why have you come to my house?
BAKER BHAI: Because apparently, you’re writing about us. Unfortunately.

SCENE TWO
(The Journalist looks at the group in disbelief, as all of a sudden he recognises the characters from the books he read multiple times. Meanwhile, Elachi Begum stands quietly near the wardrobe, looking towards the balcony.)
ELACHI BEGUM: (Softly, dreamily) Do you think someone can wait for another person all their life?
JOURNALIST: I... suppose some people can.
(She smiles faintly, her eyes fixed on Himu.)
ELACHI BEGUM: Perhaps waiting becomes a habit. Perhaps you forget how to live without waiting.
HIMU: That’s rather poetic.

(Suddenly, Elachi Begum’s expression changes. She straightens her back, adjusts her sari and speaks sharply.)
ELACHI BEGUM: Don’t encourage him! That man wouldn’t recognise responsibility even if it came riding on a battery-rickshaw!
HIMU: (Laughing) Ah! Tithi is here!
JOURNALIST: Tithi? Who is Tithi?
BAKER BHAI: That’s Elachi Begum for you. Sometimes she behaves like Kusum, sometimes like Tithi and sometimes like Rabeya. We never know who’s going to turn up.

(Elachi Begum suddenly changes again. She pulls a notebook from her handbag and examines the room.)
ELACHI BEGUM: First things first. Has anyone eaten? Where’s the tea? And why is this desk such a mess? How can a journalist work in a room like this?
JOURNALIST: Who are you now?
MISIR ALI: That would appear to be Rabeya from Shangkhanil Karagar.

ELACHI BEGUM: And you, Misir Ali, should stop analysing everyone. Put your briefcase somewhere useful!
BAKER BHAI: (Laughing) Three people in one woman! Even I can’t keep up!
MISIR ALI: Let’s not jump to conclusions. Her changing behaviour may suggest distinct identities, but we should not confuse observation with diagnosis.
JOURNALIST: I’m beginning to think I need a doctor.
HIMU: Don’t worry. We all do, occasionally.

(Everyone laughs except Boro Chacha.)
BORO CHACHA: A doctor? Why? Is somebody ill? Should I call an ambulance?
SHUVRO: No, Chacha. Nobody needs an ambulance.
BORO CHACHA: You can never be too careful!

SCENE THREE
(Misir Ali approaches the laptop.)
MISIR ALI: May I see what you’ve written?
JOURNALIST: Certainly. But please be gentle. I’ve worked on it all evening.

(Misir Ali reads aloud.)
MISIR ALI: “Humayun Ahmed was not merely a writer but a phenomenon who touched the hearts of millions...”
(He stops. Disgustingly)
JOURNALIST: What’s wrong?

MISIR ALI: Nothing. That’s precisely the problem. It says nothing.
BAKER BHAI: Read the next paragraph. I want to know what he’s written about me.

MISIR ALI: “Baker Bhai represented courage, sacrifice and the indomitable spirit of resistance...”
BAKER BHAI: Stop! What rubbish! I didn’t spend my life drinking tea and getting into trouble just to become a motivational speaker!
JOURNALIST: Please give me my laptop!
BAKER BHAI: First, give me my character back!

(Elachi Begum snatches the laptop and reads another paragraph.)
ELACHI BEGUM: “Elachi Begum was a woman of many moods, whose life was marked by emotional conflicts, romantic longing and an inability to make up her mind.”
(She looks offended.)
Who wrote this?
JOURNALIST: I did.

ELACHI BEGUM: Then write properly! I know exactly what I want. I want tea, a little peace and someone who knows how to behave.
(Her expression softens. She turns towards Himu.)
Have you eaten anything?
HIMU: Not really.

ELACHI BEGUM: Then why are you wandering around at midnight? You’ll fall ill!
HIMU: You’re worried about me?

ELACHI BEGUM: Don’t make me regret asking!
(Baker Bhai laughs.)
BAKER BHAI: Kusum is back!
HIMU: I rather like this version.
ELACHI BEGUM: And I rather dislike you!

(The Journalist looks at Misir Ali.)
JOURNALIST: Does this happen all the time?
MISIR ALI: Apparently. Her three distinct ways of responding to the world make her rather difficult to predict.
JOURNALIST: Oh, I can see that!
(Shuvro picks up a page from the desk.)
SHUVRO: Perhaps we should be kinder to him. He’s trying to write about someone he admires.
(The room falls quiet.)

SCENE FOUR
JOURNALIST: You won’t find him, you know. He’s gone. He isn’t coming back.
SHUVRO: We know.
JOURNALIST: Then why keep looking?
MISIR ALI: Because not every search has to end with a discovery. Sometimes, the search itself is the story.
HIMU: Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Sit at home and scroll through facebook? I don’t even have a smartphone. Actually, I don’t have any phone.
ELACHI BEGUM: That’s because you don’t have any pocket in your panjabi! Also, you have no home to charge the battery of a mobile phone. 
HIMU: Yeah. Another reason to keep walking.
(Everyone laughs.)
BORO CHACHA: Enough walking! We should go home! It’s midnight now. What if someone files a missing-person report? And what if the police get involved?

SHUVRO: Chacha, perhaps you should have some tea.
BORO CHACHA: Is this all the tea you have?
JOURNALIST: I can make some more.
ELACHI BEGUM: Good. First, boil the water properly. Don’t put the tea leaves in before the water boils. And don’t make it too sweet!
(She pauses and looks at Himu.)
Unless you like it sweet?
HIMU: I like everything sweet.
ELACHI BEGUM: That’s because you never have to pay for anything!
(Baker Bhai bursts into laughter.)
(The Journalist goes towards the kitchen. A rumble of thunder is heard. Himu walks towards the balcony.)

HIMU: Look! It’s going to rain. Open the door. I want to smell the rain.
(The Journalist opens the balcony door. A cool breeze enters, and the clock strikes twelve.)
JOURNALIST: November 13.
(He turns towards the room. All six characters have disappeared.)
JOURNALIST: Hello? Misir Ali? Baker Bhai? Himu?
(Silence. He looks at the empty tea cups and then at his laptop.)
They’re gone!
(He slowly sits down.)

SCENE FIVE
(The rain grows heavier. The Journalist looks at his draft and begins to laugh.)
JOURNALIST: My section in-charge is going to kill me.
(He imagines a phone conversation.)

“Where is the tribute?”
“It’s coming, Boss.”
“Coming from where?”
(He laughs again, selects the entire draft and presses backspace.)

JOURNALIST: No more literary phenomena. No more indomitable spirits. No more boring tributes.
(He begins typing.)
Perhaps somewhere in Dhaka, Himu is still walking barefoot, Baker Bhai is looking for a cup of malai tea, Misir Ali is trying to solve another mystery. With a book in his hands, Shuvro is smiling, Boro Chacha is worrying about everyone, and Elachi Begum is switching between missing Himu, arguing with Baker Bhai and telling someone how to make proper tea.
(He pauses and looks towards the balcony.)

Humayun Ahmed may be gone, but his characters haven’t left us. They still live in our conversations, our memories and the little corners of our imagination.
Perhaps that’s the closest we will ever get to finding him.
(After finishing the draft, he types the headline.)

SIX CHARACTERS IN SEARCH OF HUMAYUN AHMED
(The lights slowly fade. The sound of rain continues.)

CURTAIN FALLS.