Tareq Samin is a Bangladeshi Poet, Writer and Editor. He is author of five books, include two poetry collections, two Short Stories collections and a Novel. Some of his poems are translated in English, Spanish, German, Slovak, Portuguese, French and Hungarian Languages. Nature, Love and humanism are central to his work.
The wide sewer drain deposited the filth and scum of this part of the metropolis into a canal. The canal was supposed to carry the narrow garbage to a distant place, unknown to everyone. The canal was almost stagnant because of plastic and polythene packets and all kinds on Solid wastes. People who live nearby had taken this for granted as a dumping place.
At this hour of morning, a small group of people consisting of both man and women gathered on the verge of the canal, ignoring the stench of rotting wastes.
Someone exclaimed, ‘If the canal has its normal flow of water, by now the infant would have been driven away.’
A hawker, who sold cheap toys here, in this slum area chuckled, ‘what a beautiful baby! oh Allah!’
A woman of mid-fortys, a seller of old clothes on the pavements put forward her judgment, ‘Its a new born baby. His mother has left it here right after birth to hide her sin.’
In a moments time she burst out in a loud cry, ‘Eh, eh! Ants have almost covered the baby. Isn't there any one to take him out of the dungeon? Go, get him, do it first, otherwise he will die in front of us.’
Susan a beautiful blonde of around forty-five was an ethereal beauty. Peter did not notice the narks of irritation on her face. To be true Susan always remained in a state of disgust and discomfort. She could not make out why out of all beautiful places in this world her husband had come to this crowded city with a job that always remained stalled for traffic jam and ever polluted. What she hated most was the crowd, just for nothing people would gather at every conceivable corner to pass the time with idle talk.
From the road. Peter Allan, a middle aged flabby man with blue eyes pulled his wife’s hand to get near to the scene. Although, it is recommend to avoid crowd for tourist, In every security awareness email he got from the embassy. And he also knows, his wife Susan do not like the crowd.
By non the deserted newborn has been spooned off from the mire. The baby was crying hard. From a distant Susan sensed it as an waiting. She saw, A woman come forward and taking up the newborn on her lap and wiped off the slime and ants from the tenderest membranes.
Susan could not figure out the situation, she asked her husband about it. Peter had come to this country for more than two years, he knew Bengali a bit. To his query what the hawker said in Bengali with a few English words attached with it, Peter came to know that most probably the Newborn’s mother or someone close to her wanted to get rid of it just after birth to ward off social stigma. Peter conveyed this news to his wife. It seemed she was unaware of what Peter was talking about. Eyes fixed on the baby. She felt a kind of eruption inside her. It seemed to Susan that the fair-complexioned at her with large dark eyes.
Susan and Peter had been married for Seventeen years. They were childless. Susan tried to take her looks off the child, but the inner turmoil, or a dormant passion of hers drew her back to the hapless baby. She just couldn't hold herself steady for the surge of something which she hast never experienced before. Would she get the baby to her place? But she did not know how to raise a just born baby who would have to breast fed. Puzzled yet at the same time desperate to have the deserted baby as her own. She nudged her husband and looked at his eyes. It did not much time to read the language of his wife's unuttered communication.
Peter called up his colleague and the trouble shooter Rudra to come up there at his earliest. They were supposed to go to Rudra’s place for lunch.
As Rudra arrived Susan asked many questions, how to find out the mother of that baby? If she was not traced out who would take responsibility of the baby? Etc.
The newborn baby was brought to Rudras house. Susan, like an experienced midwife wiped the baby with warm water and antiseptic lotions and creams. In the meantime Rudra came back with a tin of powdered milk to feed the baby. All of the three had to toil heard to feed the baby three of four spoonful of milk.
The baby was now sleeping on Susan’s lap. The tender touch, The Warmth started to send shivers into every cell of the woman. She was having spasm of passion. The mother was awakening inside to get hold of a sceptic and habitually.