The New Nation - Internet Edition

Mohammad Shahidul Islam

I am afraid of the single word "death". Why? Please never ask me. I always adore, care for my flesh and blood. When I would die, my daughter Warda will definitely miss me; I too. It is unbearable to leave this little angel. When I become a father, I am thinking, I have achieved something, something that cannot be written because I cannot. Holding that tiny being in my hands, a life is magical thing to be apart of. I put my parental eyes at that calm angel, I never want to depart her, I want to watch her mature, but it dawns on me, the truth comes out, I would not.

Last year I died. Do you want to know how I died? I died because of a little dog, a rickshaw accident over the City Corporation's conventional ditch. A dog's safety welcomed my death. I wished to see my baby, Warda, grow into the beautiful woman. Her husband will visit me once a week. He will buy fruits and lobster for watering my mouth. She was not even a year old, when I died. I never got to see the proudest moments of a father's life, the first steps, her first word not even her first tooth. I was not able to see how she rang me frequently at office to bring her fond foods on my way back home.

And the moment I died, the ever-lasting memory I have was my daughter Warda. I was calling her. How stupid am I? I should have known, my baby was not able to respond to anyone. I am so sure, my baby will hardly remember me.

I will miss her pointed look at me. What she tries to discover in me? God knows! I will miss her zigzag sound what she means, she talks. Her soothing breathing as she sleeps, her cries and her bubbling noise she does will make me envisage love and pleasure.

My mother had been also a daughter once of my grand parents. When she grew older, she also became my daughter. So, do I have two daughters? I was nervous. I died before my two daughters. One is not even one year old another one is about 65. Who is my beloved? I am nervous break down!

My dreams were honest. Really? I remember when I said the last words to my baby, "I may die, but my love will never die for you. What is love? It is the conservation of generation. My father conserved me, I too. I will never be a disappearing father, I will let you keep smiling…I promise and my promise"