The Swaying Dreams

Before leaving the house, Yusuf lit up the lamp to see his daughter's face one last time. In the light of the lamp, trails of dry tears glistened on her light-brown skin. Yusuf stared at his wife. She looked skinny with rough hair and dried limbs. And in the other room, Yusuf's mother was coughing.

Drowned paddy fields look beautiful throughout the day. In the morning, when there is a rough wind, the flooded rice plants dance in the reflection of drenched sunlight. At noon, the wind is still. The rice plants then take rest in the comfortable warmth of the flood. During moonlit nights, the rice plants softly sway, as if they are in prayer. The distant chanting of frogs corresponds to the movement of the plants under the water. It all seems like the whole of the paddy field has joined together in a prayer to their goddess, the moon. And the moon, if she is pleased, bestows a boon of sweet wind to the earth, spreading a ripple of joy within the trees.

Swaying in a boat over these fields gives the feeling of swimming in dreams. Well, they were once the dreams of Yusuf. Ah, Yusuf's paddy field! The scars of burning days and troubling storms throbbed in the soil of this land. So many days and months were spent nurturing and embedding life in a field. Each grain of rice is like his child. Now all are gone under a curse of nature.

Yusuf was at home just a while ago, listening to the growling call of his stomach. His mother, wife, and his little daughter, Amina were asleep. Amina cried a lot before falling aspeep because she was hungry. Boiled spinach wasn't enough to fill her young appetite. Yusuf held back his tears when the sound of her sobbing throbbed through his ears and settled inside his tired heart. Even now, while he stands on the edge of his boat, over the field of his drowned dreams, the memory of his daughter's tears threatens to drown his consciousness.

The moon shines above Yusuf, spreading the ancient knowledge in its vintage hue of gray. Yusuf's rough feet stand on the edge of the boat. The curves of numerous cuts are hidden in his own shadow. Beside his feet, a huge rock lies with a rope tied to it. The weight of the rock tilts the boat slightly on its side. But it does not bother Yusuf.

Swaying in a boat over these fields gives the feeling of swimming in dreams. Well, they were once the dreams of Yusuf. Ah, Yusuf's paddy field! The scars of burning days and troubling storms throbbed in the soil of this land.

Before leaving the house, Yusuf lit up the lamp to see his daughter's face one last time. In the light of the lamp, trails of dry tears glistened on her light-brown skin. Yusuf stared at his wife. She looked skinny with rough hair and dried limbs. And in the other room, Yusuf's mother was coughing. Yusuf didn't dare enter his mother's room because he was afraid that his mother would instantly know what was going on inside her son's head.

This is why, without telling anyone, Yusuf dragged his boat to the river and brought it over his own paddy field.

He had pulled the boat through a narrow muddy path with the little strength he had left in his muscles. Thorns penetrated the rough skin of his feet, but they didn't did not cause much pain. A tremendous sorrow protected his heart from such insignificant pain.

Yusuf pushed the boat onto the river and slowly hopped on. As Yusuf rowed the boat, it swayed, tearing the peaceful fabric of calm water, destroying the perfect reflection of the comforting moon.

Yusuf rowed the boat slowly with his thin, weak hands, turning toward the north every now and then. After a while, he entered the territory of his swaying dreams.

And now, he stands over the drowned paddy field, watching his aspirations and hopes oscillate within the throat of a hungry river.

Yusuf slowly bends down and picks up the rock in his hand. One end of a rope is tied to the rock, and the other end embraces Yusuf's neck. As he lifts the rock, the boat tilts more. His hands tremble, not out of fear but of physical weakness.

A splashing sound. The frogs become silent as the ripples of Yusuf's fall sends a small current of eulogy to the nearby ears.

A few bubbles rise to the surface of the water to mingle with the echo of muffled thunder. Yusuf's silhouette trembles vaguely on the water until a sudden breeze shatters the shadow into tiny ripples. His dreams take flight and mingle with many other such unfulfilled dreams.

 Abdullah Rayhan is a student of English Literature at Jahangirnagar University.