Saturday, July 20, 2024

Expatriate life

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Expatriate life

Crazy people are going to America these days. He’s gone, he’s gone, so-and-so’s brother, so-and-so’s sister. going Son left my hand earlier during university admission, now he arranged to go out of touch.

He is also going to America.

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Feel free to express my anxiety in the chest. Friend Farhad Bhai settled in New York for twenty-five years but maintained uninterrupted contact with many people in the country.

I told him everything.

Do you remember Krishna Kabir? My classmate?’ Farhad Bhai’s funny question.

‘Wow, why don’t you remember?’

Kabir’s brother would have been mistaken for a black man in the shining mass noon. At that time, no one knew how to add additional adjectives to names. The bearer carried that name freely for life. Small gains without capital cause temporary discomfort but for some strange reason people embrace it.

Krishna Kabir is like that.

‘Don’t remember why Farhad brother. He loved me very much. Later I heard that he got married and went to America.’

Farhad Bhai’s gentle voice from the other side of the phone

Laughter was heard. I asked, ‘Did you smile?’

‘Not so much! I remembered something from the past. I told Kabir about your son. I don’t know why the guy left New York and camped in Michigan. We will need it after so long. Don’t worry about the boy, he is enough to give basic assistance to Babu.’

I called Kabir’s brother’s number.

It actually worked. As soon as you say hello,

‘What’s up Hema, how are you?’

Not twenty-five years, it sounds like it was just yesterday. That solemn, slow tone of calm. The seriousness of the neck suits the black look better.

‘Yes Kabir brother, I am fine. No contact as you went off the radar a long time ago. After a long time, you become a stranger, you feel like that.’

‘Oh no! I am what I was, that Krishna Kabir. Do you remember me?’

I laugh. unnecessary

Before he hesitated to turn on the video, he said, ‘I have spoken to Farhad. Don’t worry about the boy. Feel free to send it, I will give it as much time as I can. Give a call if needed, how?’
He hung up the phone suddenly.

I remember, in the middle of a face-to-face conversation at the university, he used to end the conversation before I could understand something. Unfinished words hung in the air. A long stay abroad may not have changed the habits of the introverted person.
Who trusts the unknown, unseen people! My son is not even Babur.

kept saying, ‘I can do it alone,

My senior brothers in Ann Arbor are enough.’

I am also a non-smoker. In the moments before the journey, ‘I can trust you if you have someone of my profession on hand.’

Said, like a defeated soldier saved Kabir’s brother’s phone number and said, ‘Ugh! You always have the last word, mother! ‘

After moving to Ann Arbor, Michigan, Babu discovers different aspects of the new world every moment and sits down to tell stories on holidays. .

The excitement and enthusiasm of the happy twenty-six-year-old gradually shakes me too, it’s great to hear. However, at one point, the mother’s chest swelled unnecessarily, I think she said, “Babu, come to her chest once, let me caress”.

By uploading pictures, a lot. In almost all his companions are children of the same age. One day I saw a middle-aged man like Denzel Washington next to him in two pictures and asked, ‘Who the hell?’

Babu says, ‘You don’t know mother?’

I noticed this time. Unknowingly came out of the mouth, ‘Kabir’s brother?’

‘Wow you gave the phone number without a pipe. He is the one who knew me so many ways.’

Babu said that Kabir’s brother lives in the neighboring county. During the holidays, he roamed a lot with his father.

Babu adds, ‘Like Baba, more of a listener, less of a talker. He likes to listen to others.’

In the next few months, Kabir Bhai’s affection and love magically engulfed my MS-going full-grown son, I cannot understand.

‘If you see Kabir Uncle’s collection of books, mother, you will struck dumb. A fan of history like father!

You know, Rabindra Sangeet is crazy. He sang two lines word for word, just like his father!

Just want to eat desi food. If you want to eat Chinese, as my father used to say that desi food is better, I am Mediterranean, if you want to eat Mexican, he cooks fish at his house and says, “Eat, there is no better cuisine than eating desi!”

Babu can only compare with his father. Shahid was like a martyr, why can he be like someone else? Six years have passed, but as soon as his topic comes up, the chest is pounding, the head is shaking, and the eyes have to be strained to say that they will not let the water flow.

Is it Babu’s intention or the lamentation of his father’s dormant heart? Maybe so at this age!

I got into a bit of a fight.

Thinking that it is better to overcome the fear of being away and go on a positive path, I called Kabir Bhai from time to time out of duty and thanked him. He either smiles or remains silent in response to my gratitude. The conversation doesn’t progress, often the moment my words hit the wall I get cut off.

What an embarrassment!

One day I told Farhad Bhai in a plaintive tone. But a friend is always a friend’s shield.

He said, ‘He is like this forever. Again no batter wife, no children. Forgot to talk without talking!’

‘What happened to the wife Farhad brother?’

‘Can’t you know? Three years after coming to America, the beautiful star left the air with another person!’

This is the first time I have heard so much. After that, no more words were raised in this regard. If these complex stories remain locked away, well, current trauma does not occur.

There is no martyr, it is true that I am alone, it is difficult to accept.

The job is still seven or eight years. I am doing everything, but the color around is like rice washing water. How the purpose of living has become blurred as Babu leaves America. Loneliness is an abyss of darkness. In the pain of it, sometimes it seems that death is standing at the very edge of the door, showing the green light, saying come on.

Wanting to get out of this situation, Babu also wants to understand the secret of rediscovering his father. That’s why Farhad Bhai said, ‘Go here once, you’ll like it.’

I took that into consideration.

Good Luck, I got the visa after three months of applying. I took a month off. That is the signature. What less than a month to provide the strength to live!

I met Kabir’s brother exactly twelve days after coming to America, on Sunday. Went to California on office work, returned last night. Expatriation makes familiar people unfamiliar. Demeanor and attitude are all loose, foreign. I did not see Krishna between the poet I saw in the past and the brother of the poet sitting next to me in the car. Whether the difference is the benefit of staying with the giants or the effect of Michigan’s cold currents is hard to tell. But Dhir Loy’s seriousness has been retained well.
It was pre-programmed with Babu. Going to Holland to see Tulip Fair.

It’s about a two and a half hour drive from Ann Arbor. I did not think that three hours would pass so quickly. I love to talk out loud but have also mastered the art of getting others to talk. Kabir’s brother bowed his neck and told me that he has been alone for the past seventeen years, he has not been to the country for fifteen years and has no desire to go.

I felt very insulted. Speed ​​and wealth do not easily satisfy poets from underdeveloped countries! There is no such thing as patriotism?

I tried very hard to remember the sly, introverted Krishna Kabir’s brother from twenty-five years ago.

Is he well? I am not bringing up the question of my mind lest I step into the forbidden area.

Remembering the safety of boating in still water, I asked, ‘How do you spend your time here?’

‘Why? There is no job!’

‘Free time after work?’

‘Watching TV. Eat popcorn and watch TV.’

I said, ‘How is this! Babu said you have many books. He also listens to music. I also know that he once used to write. Don’t write now?’

‘He dropped out long ago.’

‘Then what else do you do?’

With a secret in his throat, he said, ‘And! And read the letter.’

I am surprised The tone of the voice was strange.



‘You still have the habit of writing letters? This is a good habit!’

‘I don’t write much.’


“The previous letters given by many are deposited. I read them.’

The thick black eyelids of Krishna Kabir’s brother’s eyes seemed to be fluctuating frequently.

smiled and said, ‘I have one of yours too!’

Now I am confused. I said, ‘Mine?’

‘Yes, yours. You wrote me a note while still a student.’

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