The Cries for Our Languages:Sacrifices Won't Go In Vain

One

Payal looked outside as the orangish-reddish sun came up and the warmth that it was giving off kissed her soft cheeks. Her dad was outside feeding the pigeons and watering the Jasmine flowers that she and her father grew this summer. Come to think of it, it’s always summer around here, Payal thought.

 

“Abba! What did you and ma do on the terrace before I was born? As in, did you guys also plant Jasmines like me and you do?”, Payal shouted.

 

“Hmmm. Let’s see, we always used to fly kites and watch the Bengali new year festival. We just didn’t plant Jasmines, we planted sunflowers, tulips, roses, and even blue bells. Though the Lily pads were hard to grow on the terrace.” Her dad chuckled. Payal laughed as well. But she didn’t feel as happy as she once did. Her laughter faded and instead of a smile, came a small frown.She heard that her mother’s favorite flower was the lily pads. Her mother died after she gave birth to Payal. Life is such. She got off the bed and skidded on the stairways. She open the door and saw her dad fixed in a mess which included dirt, water, and….. bird poop. Payal felt a giggle come out then she quickly covered her mouth. Her dad’s eyes told her that, go on laugh, it won’t hurt my feelings. Then, she just grabbed the doorknob and fell to the floor laughing.

 

“Sorry abba! Too hilarious for me to contain it. Here, let me help you clean up.”

 

“No it’s okay. Tumi hocho amar heroder tukra.” Her father said. (“Tumi hocho amar heroder tukra” means you are a piece of my heart.) Payal took her blue and red embroidered bag and kissed her dad,

“Abba, I am going to Lucky Plaza. I will be back in the evening”

 

“Be safe. Can you get me some vegetables? I am going to make your favorite, veggie curry with roti. Bye!”

 

“Ooooooh. Sure. Bye abba!” As Payal walked through small lanes, she saw protesters that had signs saying: We will! Our country,Our Language! Payal quickly bought the vegetables from the vendor paying with a 100 taka bill and ran over to see what was going on.She then saw a young girl sitting there watching them.

 

“Excuse me, what is going on here?”, Payal asked. She wanted to make sure it wasn’t a strike.

 

“Oh, Payal! It’s you! Do you remember me? I am Tara, your dad’s helper? This is not a old protest, it is a protest for our language. The soldiers are recklessly killing people without mercy just because we won’t speak Urdu. They killed my brother and they’re are holding my mother captive!” Tara exclaimed. Her dark brown eyes were filled with tears that started to drop from it like rain falling from a pipeline, sliding away. Payal just stood there in awe, trying to soak in what she just heard from Tara.

 

“Soldiers? Tara, what do you mean as in soldiers? Where do you live? I can arrange something with my dad for you to stay with us.” Payal said as she took hold of Tara’s hand.

“The Western Pakistani soldiers. Their president gave them a command saying East Pakistan is to speak Urdu like them and if we say no then….. then…… they should kill us! I don’t even know Urdu, but if I tell the soldiers, they will think that I am just lying. No use. It’s either speak or get killed. Tara’s eyes were now filled with an emotion that Payal never saw before and it wasn’t a good one either. As soon as Payal turned around after consoling Tara, gunshots filled the air where Payal was standing. She ducked down and wasn’t hurt but the college students and………. Tara.