Boy Meets Girl

Biplop started the new year at Oxford International School in Dhaka with high hopes. It was a massively important year as it was finally when they would take their GCSE exams. All the previous years of hard work were all in preparation for this. He sat in his usual seat on the second bench, next to his friend Mokless, the same seat he sat in for the last two days since the term began. After the teacher began the day's math lesson, time froze as soon as a dark, beautiful girl stood at the door as the classroom descended into watchful silence.

“May I come in, Sir?” she said.

“Why are you late?” Imtiaz Sir asked. “And where were you for the past two days?”

“Sir, I was attending the Kali Puja Festival,” she said. “ That’s why I was at the principal’s office collecting my attendance sheet.”

“O.K.” Imtiaz Sir said. “What’s your name?”

“Nafisa”

The classroom was in a collective trance. Mokless whispered to Biplop, “that girl lives in my neighbourhood. She's so beautiful! If anyone can manage to get her to go out with them I’ll give them a thousand bucks!”

“Challenge accepted,” Biplop said. “I won’t do it for the money, I’ll do it for the girl. Can you give me her number?”

“I don’t have her number!”

“That’s okay, I’ll manage it.”

Biplop enjoyed a vibrant social life as many young people often do during school days. He had friends that were both boys and girls. Biplop approached his friend Farah who he was on particularly good terms with. They were such close allies that Farah often used Biplop's phone to keep her romance going with her boyfriend, whenever they settled into their tiffin breaks.

“I need your phone,” Farah said.

“If you want my phone, you have to do me a favour,” Biplop said.

“Stop messing around, Bilop! I told my boyfriend I would call him now. If my parents see his number on my phone they would kill me.”

“Do you know Nafisa?” Biplop asked.

“Why?”

“I know all the girls in our class are friends. Now if you want my phone, you have to give me her number.”

“Well, I don’t have it!”

“Unless you want me to tell everyone what you do with my phone, I want that number!”

“Fine, I’ll get you the number. I hate you!”

Soon enough, Farah texted Biplop Nafisa’s number, so that evening Biplop called Nafisa. Farah was very clear to mention that under no circumstances he should mention her name. Biplop locked the door, grabbed his acoustic guitar and sat on his bed.

“Hello?” Nafisa said, expecting a strange call, knowing presciently that Biplop would be calling thanks to an earlier conversation with Farah. There was silence on the other side. “Who is this? 

“You don’t know me,” Biplop said. “If you will listen, I want to sing you a song.”

“I will listen if you sing an English song,” said Nafisa. 

“You’re in luck!” Biplop said. “I wrote an English song a few days ago. Can I sing it?”

“Okay, but be quick,” Nafisa said.

Biplop put his phone on loudspeaker, placing it face up on his bed. He started strumming the guitar, singing in his carefully practised best English, enunciating and pronouncing each syllable as clearly as he could. 

“Baby, you’re all that I want! As you’re lying here in my arms. I’m finding it hard to believe, we’re in Heaven. And love is all that I need, and I found it there in your heart! It isn’t hard to believe, we’re in Heaven!” 

“That’s enough!” Nafisa said, her ego pricked. “That’s enough, I know you can play the guitar and sing songs. Never call this number again!”

“Who is that on the phone?” Nafisa’s mother inquisitively asked. 

“No one, mum,” Nafisa said. “It’s just a Muslim boy from my class.”

“Well, what does he want?” Nafisa’s mother said. 

“He is being weird. He is actually singing me romantic songs!”

Nafisa’s mother grabbed the phone. “Listen here, boy. Don’t call this number again and if you ever harass my daughter again, you’ll regret it!” 

Biplop hung up the phone, distraught. He was hurt, he started to cry promising himself that he would never call her again. Biplop sent the following text to Nafisa later that night:

I don’t care if we never speak again. You’re a whore anyway. 

The year was a very important one for all the students because they were to take their GCSE exams, the last exams they would take before leaving secondary school. They were all under considerable stress. Biplop did not really know how to feel about them. He was not an overly eager student, but he could not help feeling the crushing weight of his future lying ahead of him. Finally, the time had come for the exams to begin. In the middle of the night before the mathematics exam, Biplop was still studying pensively for the next day’s exam when his phone began ringing.

“Biplop. This is Nafisa.”

“Ugh…hi,” Biplop muttered.  

“Shut up and listen,” Nafisa said. “I am serious about you, okay? Can you meet me...like right now?”

“What?” Said Biplop. “Nafisa it’s late! We have an exam tomorrow, are you crazy?”

“Unless you come to see me right now, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“O.K. Nafisa,” Biplop said. “What about my parents? They’d kill me if I left the house.”

“So sneak out!” Nafisa said. “Unless you are scared. Your not scared are you, Biplop?”

“I can come. Don’t worry.”

“O.K, you know where I live don’t you? I’m texting you the address. Come and take me to Hotel Superstar, down the street my place. They are open all night.” During the holy month of Ramadan, restaurants remain open until sunrise when the fasting would commence for the day. 

“How am I supposed to get all the way there?”

“Come to my house, quick. Call me when you are here.” Nafisa hung up. 

Biplop picked out his best clothes, took a quick shower before he snuck out of the front door. It was late but Biplop was determined to see what Nafisa wanted. All he could do was unlock the door, hope for the best and go on his way. He took a bus and scurried off as quickly as he could to the address Nafisa texted him. When he got there he nervously called her. After a couple of dial tones, the call was dropped from the other side. He felt relief when he saw Nafisa smiling at him as she walked out of her gate. 

“You made it,” said Nafisa. Under the starlight, looking at Nafisa Biplop experienced what was the first-ever pang of young love he had ever felt. Biplop felt stunned. She was wearing a turquoise coloured salwar kameez top and bottom, with a simple arna of the same colour. He tried to be cool by not seeming too eager. They walked side by side to the restaurant. “I hope you brought money.”

“I did,” he said. “My auntie gave me some for Eid so don’t worry about tonight, it’s on me. How’s your preparation for tomorrow's exam?”

“School is so boring!” Nafisa said. “Please, change the subject. I always thought you were more interesting than that!”

When the waiter arrived to take their order, Nafisa was not at all timid. “Two plates of mutton biriyani, two cokes and faluda for me, thank you.”

“You know what?” Biplop said, “grab me a faluda too. I love dessert.” 

Nafisa scarfed down all her food, without being self-conscious. Her confidence was infectious. Biplop was enjoying the time they were spending together thoroughly. Suddenly, Biplop was startled when his phone began ringing. 

“Oh, no!” Biplop said. “It’s my mum!”

“You’d better go now,” she said. “My parents are going to be mad if they found you.” 

It was getting really late. “O.K, then. Bye, I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Bye, Biplop.”

Biplop was lucky that buses run 24 hours in Dhaka city. He was not so lucky when he got home.

When Biplop came home he sheepishly pressed the doorbell. 

“Biplop!” Ahmed cried. “Where the hell have you been? Your mother and I were worried sick when we could not find you! Do you have any idea how worried we were? What were you thinking?”

“This boy is out of control!” Amina chimed in. 

Biplop said nothing. Amina took off her sandal, hitting Biplop with it repeatedly. “Get out of here! A swine like you is not welcome in this house!” 

“But  Amu, what about my math exam tomorrow?”

“You think you are all grown up, behaving like a wild animal doing whatever you want? Not in my house!” Ahmed said. He pushed Biplop so hard that he fell over, into the house. “Go to your room and go to sleep this instant! God knows what an idiot like you will get on your exams.” 

Biplop took his exam that morning a few hours later. Nafisa was also present during the exam but didn’t say a word to him. After the exam Biplop confronted Nafisa.

“I got into a lot of trouble last night, you know.” 

“You didn’t have fun?” said Nafisa with a grin. 

“No, I did. So, when will we meet again?”

“Call me and we can arrange something.” 

Over the next few days, Nafisa never called Biplop although when he called her she would speak to him. That weekend Biplop had planned to take Nafisa out to which she had no objection. In the afternoon Biplop went back to Nafisa’s place to pick her up. He took her to Sadarghat, the wild, cacophonous port of Dhaka on the terribly polluted Buriganga River. 

“Why are we here?” Nafisa asked. 

“Our boat will be leaving in fifteen minutes,” Biplop said. 

Biplop guided Nafisa to a launch boat with an open second deck and a quiet one in the bottom, where they were alone. Biplop guided her by the hand and sat her next to him in a comfortably cushioned seating area where they could see out but no one could see in. He looked at her expectantly. Nafisa was quiet. Biplop slowly put his hand on her thigh. 

“Stop,” Nafisa said.

“Why?” Biplop asked.  

“What do you want?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, if you are horny go home and jerk off.”

Biplop was incredulous. He swore at her his worst oaths. Frustrated and hurt, he left her alone on the launch and went home. 

Later that evening Biplop got a call from Nafisa. “How could you do that to me?” Nafisa said. “My cousins had to come all the way to pick me up from that place you took me. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!”

“I’m sorry,” Biplop said. “Can I make it up to you?”

“You have made a big mistake!” she cried. “You see what I do to you! First, you called me a filthy word and now you do this? Biplop Ahmed, you will regret this!”

The next day at school, Nafisa told everyone that Biplop had a small penis. He was so embarrassed, he never went to school again.

Soon, Biplop’s parents found out about the whole thing.

“Where have you been?” Ahmed exclaimed. “We want to know everything! Your headmistress called from school. They said you have not been going, you didn’t even show up for your exams! What will happen to you without any GCSEs? What are you going to do with your life?”

“Biplop,” Amena said. “You have been lying to us. How can we trust you again? Where do you think you’re going? I forbid you from leaving this house!”

Biplop felt nauseous. He felt so distant from his protectors, who felt more like his oppressors in the current climate. He did not feel any love for his parents in the present moment. He just wanted to get out of there. 

“Shut up!” he cried. “Get out of my way!”

“Biplop!” his father screamed. It was in vain as he watched his only son escape from his grasp and run off into the wide world outside.  

Biplop’s father and mother wondered what to do next. The police and press were both informed. They had a journalist call everyone that could have possibly known where Biplop could be hiding, but no one gave them any hints. The police were equally clueless. Ahmed decided he must take the matter into his own hands. His wife was losing her grip on reality each passing day. He could no longer be passive. The police were still not capable of making any breakthrough in finding his son, his only option was to tell his cousin, Kanchan Ahmed, who was no stranger to people asking him for favours. 

“Hello?” Ahmed obsequiously addressed his cousin. 

“Yeah, what is it?” Kanchan said

“Listen, it’s Biplop. It’s been weeks since he’s been home. Amena is worried sick. We don’t know what to do…you have your ways. Better than those crooked cops, they are not being able to find him.”

“He’s not been home? What’s going on with you?”

“Biplop has been all over the place. We don’t know whats going on with the boy. Ever since he got shot he started getting into fights, terrible fights, coming home practically crippled. He failed all of his exams, not even one GSCE he has managed. He was such a good boy. He speaks such good English. He knows Bengali as well. Without any O Levels, who will hire him? What will he do? He’s a good boy, a smart boy. With some direction, he can be somebody. He has been hanging around with the wrong crowd. He lied to us telling us he was going to school every day, when he would go out doing Lord knows what with what kind of people we can only guess. He doesn’t even speak to us anymore. His sister is still young and has a promising future, but Biplop…his mother and I are concerned. With him, the traditional route isn’t going to work. There must be something you can do for him? Help us find him, please. I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I will help you find the boy. I am his uncle after all. You better send me a recent photograph of him right away. Wherever he is, if he’s in this city, I’ll find him.”

Kanchan informed the people who worked under him to be on the lookout for Biplop. Kanchan Ahmed had people all over the kind of places you would expect to find young boys hanging around with no purpose. 

Kanchan Ahmed’s involvement in the seedy business ventures was no secret. His ability to provide large sums of capital upon request using his influence that spread widely. He had eyes in places all over the buzzing city. Wherever Biplop was, if he was in the city, they would find him.

Biplop had been living with the kind of crowd that would make his parents worry. He went to stay with his partner in crime Anando. 

“Listen, I’m tired of hanging around with nothing to do, wasting our time with football and cricket, like children. We need to start making some money.”

“How will we do that?” said Biplop. “Who would hire us?”

“We need to do our own business,” Anando said. 

“What do you suggest?”

“What do you mean, Anando? What are you trying to say?

“Laptops, smart-phones, smart-watches, smart TVs - there is a buyers market out there. We could make a killing. It would be so easy!”

“I don’t know, Anando. It sounds dangerous.” 

“If we get caught all we have to do is pay a tiny bribe to those crooked police officers and we can get off, no problem. If we are rolling in it, we won’t even get arrested. Trust me!”

“So here’s the deal,” Anando explained. “I am running a job. This is the start of something great. We’re going to start this gang. I know this girl, her name is Tia. She is going to call up desperate guys on the phone and then we rob them, get it?”

The plan worked several times over, but not without people noticing. Biplop’s duty was to deliver all the goods they have collected to a dealer to sell. On his way there he noticed he was being followed by a microbus. There was no way he could escape. Two burly men grabbed him. 

“You are coming with us,” one of them said, putting Biplop in the microbus. Fearing the worst, Biplop surrendered to the men. He was shocked to find himself delivered to his home into the custody of his parents. The men worked for his uncle who kept his promise to his father by returning him home, away from the evil company he was mixed up with.