Father's Day
'I will never be able to forget my last memory with Abba'
On the way to sell sacrificial cattle, teenager Ariful Islam lost his father, Kohinoor Sheikh, in an accident. The next day, after burying his father in their village, Ariful rushed to the cattle market in the capital to sell the remaining cows. At the time, Prothom Alo published Ariful’s heartbreaking story, which went viral on social media. On the occasion of Father’s Day, Ariful has paid tribute to his father in Prothom Alo’s Saturday special supplement, ‘Chutir Dine’.
I don’t remember how old I was then. My middle sister (Seema Khatun) and I had gone to the market with Abba. He bought us rasgullas and treated us. He also bought me a new shirt from the market. On the way back, there was water on the road. Abba carried me on his shoulders and gave the new shirt to my sister to hold. But when we got home, the shirt was nowhere to be found.
We never figured out whether she had left it at the sweet shop, dropped it somewhere in the market, or lost it while crossing the water. My sister simply couldn’t remember. Abba was very upset. He scolded her. This is the one memory from early childhood I still remember clearly with my father.
As I grew older, many more memories followed. Abba used to fish in the river. I would take food to him in the mornings. But from the riverbank, it was hard to tell where exactly he was fishing in such a vast river. So I would stand at the edge and call out, ‘Abba, Abba!’ I’d walk along the bank, calling from one side to the other, and eventually, he would hear me and row back to shore from the middle of the river.
Later, as I got older and had a phone, I stopped calling out from the shore—I would just call him. And after he completed fishing, he would call me to help. I’d carry the fishing nets on my head. The net weighed around 15 kilograms. When I carried it, it would ease Abba’s burden.
But Abba used to say every day, "You don’t have to catch fish like me. You should study. You need to do something different. If needed, I’ll send you abroad." He would scold me if I didn’t focus on my studies.
Whenever I needed a large amount of money and asked Abba, he would never give it right away. That’s when my elder sister (Amena Khatun) and my middle sister on my behalf would persuade him.
Three years ago, I wanted to buy a mobile phone. Abba had just come back with money after selling cattle at the Qurbani market. But he flatly refused to buy me a phone. So I called my sisters. They talked to Abba and convinced him. Finally, Abba gave me Tk 18,000. I went to Bagha to buy a phone. I liked one that cost Tk 20,000. I didn’t buy it and came back home.
Abba said, “I gave you Tk 18,000—can’t I give you the rest too? Go, get the phone you like.”
I will never be able to forget my last memory with Abba. This time, we had three cows. We left home at 9: 00am to go to the cattle market in Bashila, Dhaka. The Shimultala ghat is seven kilometers from our house. But when we got there in the morning, it was no use—the first truck was taken by other traders. We waited for the next one. The second truck arrived around noon, but it was a stone-carrying truck. Cattle trucks are different; they have open space in the middle to tie the ropes. This one wasn’t suitable, so we had to let it go too.
By the time we finally got on a truck, it was evening. Abba stayed at the back with the cows, and I climbed up onto the roof. There was no light. I kept telling Abba to buy a light. He got annoyed and said, "You don’t need to act like the boss."
In the darkness, Abba stood at the back with the cows. The truck stopped in Tangail. Suddenly, another truck came from behind and crashed into ours. My cousin, Abdul Mottaleb, had been holding my hand the whole time so I wouldn't fall off the roof. When the truck hit us from behind, the two of us were thrown into the middle of the cows. On top of us fell 400 bundles of hay we had brought for the cattle.
All of us survived. None of us were hurt. But Abba is no longer with us. (Transcribed)