May 23rd 2015, 2 am
I woke up in the humid heat. The electricity was gone but the night was breezy outside, a stormy wind was blowing through the windows. Why was I awake?
There was a voice screaming through my sleepy haze. A woman. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and crying. Half asleep and lost in my mind, I tried hard to break through the daze and figure out what she was saying. "Ami jabona, ami jabona! I will not go, I will not go". My heart froze.
I started thinking, what could I do? Should I get up? Wake up my mother? The scream sounded like it was coming from one of the neighbouring buildings but I couldn't tell which one. Should I call someone? Police? What could they possibly do? What do I do? What do I do?
Then the screaming stopped. No sound. Everything in my being twisted. Had she stopped because the problem had been stopped? I tried to think of all possible neutral, positive scenarios, she's had a fight with her mother about going to school. She had a fight with her husband about moving homes. She's a spoilt brat not getting what she wants. I hoped she was alright. I hoped to God she was alive.
But I couldn't for the life of me shake the horrible feeling that none of that was true. And I hoped to God, and all gods she may believe and pray to that she was alright. That she hadn't been maimed, violated, beaten to silence or killed.
The guilt kept me awake. The guilt is still keeping me down. What could I have done? I wake up with cold sweats on mornings since Pohela Boishakh. I check my shadow when I walk on streets. I carry a knife. I am scared to ride public transport. I can't read yet another news about rape. I cannot make myself protest yet another act of violence. I'm not helpless then why do I feel so? Amra eto oshohaye keno? Amra eto oshohaye keno?
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