The story of Imtiaz Ahmed (The lantern)

In winter, with wind or rain, the first voice would be to look for oil for the lantern, if not, run and get oil of eight annas from the shop. The cobbler walking with an old bamboo cane kept kerosene in a ghee canister and in winter would add oil to the lantern and run home again. We, two brothers and a sister, slept in one room, often arguing over who would place the lantern near to because everyone went to school and someone else had to do their homework.

Our lantern would be placed on this small shelf so that the light would spread throughout the room. Sometimes I would raise the thread of the lantern too high, then immediately the voice of Amiji would come: "Lower it, otherwise the glass of the lantern will become black with smoke."

Sometimes late at night when the lantern ran out, we would immediately put mustard oil in a bowl or lamp, make a cotton thread ourselves and prepare a replacement lantern, but the problem was that the black smoke marks on the wall. would be applied and these marks would remain until the color (Kali) prepared from lime was again spread over it. On Eid etc., indigo was added to the lime and painted on the walls. Similarly, brass vessels were also re-polished on the occasion of special festivals.

I often wrote my tablet before going to bed. Api always scolds why this rude person doesn't do his school work in the morning.

Despite your daily protests, I would put the lantern down on the ground, take out the pen and medicine from the bag and start writing the lesson on the wooden board. At that time, these were the common possessions: pen, ink, medicine, slate and coin, etc. I always used to break the battery of a radio and extract the coin to draw the lines on the board.

There were also candles at that time, but because kerosene was cheap, we used lanterns and lamps. Sometimes we would also bring candles.

Whenever the rain was heavy or continuous, water would start dripping from the roof. Wherever the water started dripping, we brothers and sisters used to place pots, buckets or plates under it so that the water would collect in it. I used to keep my mouth shut and guess into which vessel the next drop from the roof would fall. The dim light of the lantern, the howl of the strong wind, trying to keep warm inside the quilt, the sound of the raindrops falling and dancing on the dirt roof, the thunder of the clouds and the drops dripping from the roof, a magical atmosphere. used to create But I didn't know then that I would miss them, miss the paper, miss the rainwater, despite the auto-heated rooms, soft sofas, carpets and German-made quilts.

I was the eldest among the siblings and I was also the one who felt the most fear. My brothers and sisters were also tired of this habit of mine. There was an open courtyard outside the room and after that came the toilets. In winter I was afraid to go there alone, and unless someone accompanied me to the door with a lantern, I stubbornly sat there.

There was always cotton in our house because Nanaji had installed a flour grinding machine as well as a cotton threshing machine (panja). Their house was always crowded with caterers and Ammi used to stay around during the day and bring home some of the cotton that was taken as rent.

When we were small, my mother used to spin the yarn herself at Nanaji's house. I used to make cotton balls with the help of a thin stick (cane) and give them to them and they would put it on the spinning wheel and make thread out of it. I enjoyed driving the spinning wheel the most because it spun like a tire and made a distinctive whistling sound.

In the freezing German nights, whenever there is a heavy rain at night or the strong wind makes certain sounds, I spontaneously think of my past, the dripping roof, the lantern, the lamp, the plaque, the spinning wheel of Ammiji and the stories of Kuh Qaf. They start to remember.

I am reminded of that rule in first grade, whose most famous poem was Bulbul's Child. Now I think that he was in Bulbul's child, who used to eat khichdi, drink water, flew away for a day and never came back.

Imtiaz Ahmed