Finishing The Unfinished Conversation

This is a continuation of my previous story Unfinished Conversation - a story which talked about my journey from Barisal to Kolkata. Now at the age of 88 I undertake a journey back to Barisal in search of my old home and old friends. So, ladies and gentlemen buckle your seat belts and let's start.

It was a YouTube video on two friends staying on two sides of the border meeting after 70 odd years that made me undertake this journey. Them being almost the same age as me and being able to do the journey made my resolve even stronger. I wanted to do the journey on the Maitree Express - the train service between Kolkata and Bangladesh, I wanted to see how Bangladesh had changed since I left that place in 1947 and the best way to do it was by train but eventually was pressurized into taking a flight by my family. They actually were dead against me taking this journey owing to my age, but I was adamant. This is one regret I which I did not want to take to my grave. Finally, it was decided that my daughter would undertake the journey with me.

The plan was to fly to Dhaka and from there take a 4-hour car ride to Barisal. The flight to Dhaka though uneventful was delayed by over three hours. I was as excited as a kid getting his first cycle. Going back to Bangladesh felt like I was returning home. I still could not believe once we landed, I was back in the land which had given me some of my most cherished memories. Even if I kicked the bucket at this very moment, I would have no complaints. But I hoped it came after I set foot in Barisal. We were to spend the night in Dhaka and start for Barisal the next morning at 6:00 AM and if everything went well, I would be in the place of my birth at 11 AM. The hotel was a reputed one with impeccable service standards and luxurious room but still I could not sleep a wink. I was excited and filled with hope...hope of seeing my old house and even meeting my old friends. I did not know if both were there or whether I was heading for a massive disappointment, but hope was the only thing that kept me going.

Next morning, I was ready at 3 AM and kept on looking at the clock every few minutes as if pleading the clock to please go faster. Finally, it was time for us to leave for Barisal. I did not want to waste any time and wanted to travel to Barisal non-stop before I was reminded by my daughter that skipping breakfast was not such a good idea, so we stopped at a place called Bhanga for breakfast. From Bhanga to Barisal was almost a two - two and a half hours drive. Again, Father Time started playing games with me by making every minute seem like an hour. After what seemed like ages, we finally reached Barisal. Our house used to be a five-minute walk from the Barisal Launch Ghat so to the Launch Ghat we went first. That was the only thing that I could recognize the rest of the surrounding place had changed a lot and was nothing like what I remembered. There used to be a sweet shop just ten steps away from the Ghat it was no longer there. The toy shop where me and my best friend Aslam (he was the same friend I had had a fight with while playing cricket before I left for Kolkata. That was the last time I saw him) used to spend hours looking at toys was also gone. I walked a bit further recalling from my old memory where my house used to be only found a big multi-Storey building there. It looked like I was heading for a day of disappointment. Everything had changed, my house was not there so were the shops which we used to visit with friend. It seemed that everything we held dear had vanished. The childhood memories now felt like they were not real and were just my imagination and I broke down. I had relied foolishly on hope...the hope of finding everything to be same as I had left it. I thought I will meet Aslam and relive past memories but what were my chances of finding him? I did not even know how he looked like now, where he lived and most importantly if he was even alive. It was only on hope I had planned this entire trip and now I was beginning t hate this very concept of hope. My daughter suggested we visit my old school Barisal High School and see if we can find something from there. She had already looked up on the net and found out that the school was still there. Again, this dreaded word hope began to rise in me.

The school had a complete make over, gone were the old wooden benches and blackboards now it had AC Classrooms and Smart Blackboards. The principal of the school was kind enough to meet us and give us a personal tour of the school. Even though the school looked nothing like what it used to be when I studied their old memories came flooding back. And hope became a loved word again when he told us that the school had an Alumni Association and Aslam's details were there. But he did not know if that was his updated address as the records were almost 5-6 years old. So now I knew where Aslam probably lived but again did not know if he was still alive. The phone number provided to us was coming out of service. We decided to visit the place anyways. I had so many disappointments that day, that another disappointment will not hurt. It was almost half-an hour's drive to the address given to us. 

Upon reaching there I saw an old man maybe of my age in a wheelchair in the balcony. Was it Aslam or was my mind playing tricks with me? I just called out Aslam...he looked at me and gave a smile that I was very familiar with. Even after 70 odd years that is one thing that remained unchanged that smile ...yes it was Aslam. He again smiled and told me "Buro, that day I was not-out".