This is how the game began, and for perhaps the first time in her life, Nishi lost this game. The victory belonged to Abul—he got Nishi’s phone number, securing his visa to enter the realm of friendship.
Nishi returned home, answered all of her father’s questions, and then found herself in front of her mother. Though she could sometimes hide certain things from her father, everything would fall apart when she faced her mother’s eyes—she simply couldn’t lie to her. To avoid her mother, Nishi tried her best to stay out of sight. She told her father that she had a terrible headache and would go straight to bed after taking a shower.
She rushed to the bathroom. Standing under the shower for a long time, she hummed a song while hot water poured over her. Her mind drifted to the past. She had a short past, one filled with teenage recklessness.
At that time, Nishi had just finished her intermediate exams. She was performing in music shows day and night—today at one college, tomorrow at another club. Weddings, universities, different cities, villages—everywhere. Sometimes, she even performed two or three shows in a single day. She had immense popularity in the city; everyone wanted her. She was one of the top three highest-paid performers in the city.
Gradually, she got acquainted with the best guitarist of that time. Let’s call him Wahid. He wasn’t just one of the best in the city but one of the top two guitarists in the country. He was an incredible musician, playing regularly with bands formed by legends like James and Ayub Bachchu. Wahid and his band invited Nishi to perform with them regularly.
Until then, her father was like a shadow, always with her. He even sat in during practice sessions, which Wahid and the others often found amusing. They would tease Nishi about it whenever they got the chance. At that age, it made her furious—she felt embarrassed.
She would often tell her father:
Nishi: “Why don’t you just drop me off and come back later? Why do you need to sit here? Do any of the other musicians have their fathers sitting around?”
Father: “Because there are no other girls here!”
Nishi: “Dad, this is a music rehearsal space. All musicians are practicing together, but you seem completely out of place.”
Father: “I’m staying. You’re not even eighteen yet!”
Nishi: “Dad, I don’t like this at all. They tease me because you’re always around. I’m grown up now.”
Father: “If that’s how you feel, then forget about singing and performing. Just stay home and study.”
Nishi: “I will sing! And besides, once I start university, I won’t have much time for this. At least let me breathe a little for now!”
Father: “I think I made a mistake by allowing you to perform in shows. You need to stop.”
Nishi: “Then just get rid of me altogether.”
Father: “What are you trying to say?”
Nishi: “I don’t like having you around me all the time.”
Father: “I’ll remain by your side like a shadow until you get married.”
Nishi: “Didn’t you say I need to grow up and study a lot? Now you’re already thinking about marriage?”
Father: “If this is how you want to live, then I don’t see any other way. What about your admission coaching?”
Nishi: “It starts next week.”
Father: “Thank God! Focus on your studies.”
Nishi: “Hmm… I’ve dedicated so much time to music since childhood, and now that I’ve achieved something, you’re saying this?”
Father: “Look, we have never compromised on your education, and we never will. That comes first. Learning music is fine, but performing in shows with these drug-addicted boys is not.”
Nishi was stunned. Her father, her dearest person in the world, had never spoken like this before.
Nishi: “Have I ever said I wouldn’t study? I’ve been getting scholarships since eighth grade, ranked 22nd in my matric exams, and I’m getting one in my intermediate exams too. Am I not studying enough?”
Father: “I know you. If you wanted, you could have been in the top two among girls, not just 22nd. You need to spend more time studying. I will never let you be alone with those band boys.”
Nishi: “Fine. I’ll do whatever you say. But at least let me perform in shows. My studies haven’t started yet, and I enjoy this.”
Father: “As long as I can be with you, you can perform. But if I can’t be there, you won’t go.”
Nishi felt a little sad but didn’t argue. Deep down, she also felt uncomfortable in some situations.
For example, before a show, she would see Wahid and the others smoking weed, and later, they would all drink. She didn’t like it. Sometimes, during shows, fans would come too close, making her uneasy. In such moments, she felt grateful for her father’s presence. He always shielded her. Whenever someone tried to approach her, he would step in and sternly say, “What do you want? Talk to me.” If someone wanted her phone number or tried to discuss shows, her father would firmly reply, “I handle all her bookings. Talk to me, not her.” The disappointed boys and uncles had no choice but to speak to him instead.
Back to the present—hot water poured down as Nishi reminisced about Wahid.
Just the other day, Nishi was sitting in the front row at a concert. Wahid’s band was performing, and after their vocalist, it would be Nishi’s turn.
At first, she thought she was imagining things. But no, she wasn’t mistaken.
As Wahid sang James’ Dur Pahare and reached the line “Mon kere niyeche se dushtu meye” (“That naughty girl has stolen my heart”), he looked directly at Nishi. Not just at that moment—throughout the song, he kept glancing at her. And when he sang Sundoritoma Amar (“My Beautiful One”), he let go of his guitar strings for a moment and gestured toward her.
The way he tossed his long hair, danced, sang, and smiled—Nishi felt herself growing weak for him. During practice, his glances, secretive smiles, and subtle touches on her hand when handing over a cup of tea made her heart race.
One day, it went a little further.
Nishi was practicing when everyone left for a smoke break, including her father. Usually, Wahid would go too, but not this time.
Nishi felt nervous. She couldn’t focus, kept making mistakes at the same spot.
Wahid sat next to her and looked straight into her eyes.
Wahid: “What’s wrong with you? You never mess up this part. Want to try singing with me?”
Nishi: “I don’t know why I keep messing up.”
Wahid: “Can I hold your hand?”
Nishi wanted him to but said nothing. She kept staring at the floor. Wahid gently took her hands in his lap, touched her chin softly, and said, “You can do it. Try again. Trust me—you’ll get it this time.”
She did. She actually did. And she wondered—why couldn’t she do it before?
Just then, the others returned. Bobby teased her, “Still stuck on the same line? Are you planning to sing only that all night? I need to practice too!”
Wahid scolded Bobby and told him to move aside.
Back to the present—
Suddenly, Nishi’s mother knocked on the door.
Mother: “Are you going to shower all night? What’s going on with you?”
Feeling a little nervous, Nishi said, “Mom, I have a terrible headache. Stop bothering me!”
Mother: “Bothering you? Where were you all day? You’ve never come home this late before.”
Nishi: “This is late? It’s just evening!”
Mother: “Where were you? With whom? And why do you need a shower as soon as you get home? You’ve never done this before.”
Nishi: “Wow! So now I need a schedule for taking showers in my own house? Mom, you’re being ridiculous.”
She came out of the shower humming.
Her mother eyed her suspiciously, scanning her neck, shoulders, and back with disbelief.
Mother: “Why do you look so happy?”
Nishi: “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
Mother: “Who knows what trouble you’ve been stirring up this time!”
Nishi: “Mom, you’re always suspicious for no reason!”
Mother: “We’ll see if it’s for no reason or not… Time will tell.”
Scarborough, Canada
