Tillim's Bullet

Chapter Three; Rabet Al Hasan

I arrived at the gate of my house, one I could never call home. The silence was all I heard and I wished to hear it as long as I could.

The silence scared me more than anything. This was the torturing silence after a storm. A lot had happened in the few hours that took for me to come here. The police arrived. The whole neighborhood was awoken in the middle of the night because of the shouting and screaming.

I haven't felt embarrassed ever since I came to this place. I was so used to it that It didn't even feel real.

I sighed, Sophia patted my back. She had not attended the ceremony because of me. I came here assuring everyone in the family to not worry about anything. But I, myself do not know if this will ever be okay. I don't know if things will be fine as it was.

Well, to put things in conclusion, my father's brother, Nazrul, and his sister quarreled. It was trouble but as big as everyone assumed. This was serious.

I left everything therein in Connecticut. Everyone was worried. I had to be there. I didn't want my brother's ceremony to be ruined. I would even give up my attendance there for everything to go smoothly.

That is why I came here, to make sure things remain alright.

After gathering all my courage I entered the room where the area commissioner was seated at. I picked my head up to see the people I hated from the core of my heart.

My aunt, uncle, and their children, and my mood was fuming with anger. They hated me and it was expressed on their face.

The commissioner and the officers stood up to greet me. I smiled at them and shook their hands. Sophia greeted them too.

I sat down with one leg on the other.

Looking at everyone's faces I knew they knew what I was thinking. I may not show what was going on in me but my face was void of emotions. I pierced their faces with my glare because I enjoyed it.

"Now, Hoyeche ki? Amake puro beparta bujhiye bolen."

"Now, tell me what happened. Explain the whole thing to me."

The commissioner sighed and started speaking. He told me that the whole fight had taken place during the Maghreb. He explained shortly that, my uncle had taken a broom from my Fuppi's floor. After cleaning up whatever he meant to clean he threw the broom down to my Fuppi's floor which ended up hitting her wall, creating a spot.

She yelled at him for doing so which angered him and from one to another word, he hit her. Later she hit him back which created this whole chaos.

I looked at Sophia, she looked at me. This was far the most worse fight they had been involved in and this is for the ridiculous reason I flew from the US to here.

While listening to him talk, I looked at all their faces. They looked remorseless—backbiting about each other in front of each other.

This was the family I belonged to and laughed at.

After he was done, I bit the inside of my cheeks.

I looked at Nazrul Chacha, at this point, I don't even know if I should call him Chacha. The worst person I ever came across.

Chacha: A term usually referred to the uncles.

I wanted to shower this man with insults. What a disgrace to the family! Mr. Naju, the eldest son of the second wife Al Amin Shah had a sister who was younger than him. They lived in Bangladesh as my grandfather was not willing to bring his second family to the US.

They lived here, rotted, and became a somewhat nightmare for us back home.

I held back and sat patiently.