Out of context

T W O

House no. 32

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           It was way past 9 o'clock when he reached Bashundhara residential area. Navigating the chaotic Dhaka traffic was an exercise in patience, a relentless back-and-forth like a see-saw ride. The new government's efforts to tame the city's arteries were evident, but Bengalis are... well Bengalis, found new ways to weave their own brand of chaos into the fabric of the city.

So, many things have changed since the massacre, yet at the same time, people remain indifferent. Somewhere along the way, the people were desperate for a change while simultaneously clinging to the remnants of their loved ones. Apparently, the world doesn't work the same way. To move forward is to let go.

Shuvro could only shake his head at the obvious and go on with it all. Right now it was to go to his old place.

Getting a rickshaw in Bashundhara wasn't hard, yet the hike in fare had him raise his brow. When did it go from thirty taka to fifty? Nonetheless, he agreed to go along; what's the point of having a word spar with an o'l man rickshaw puller over twenty taka?

Clearly it's been long since he visited home. Home meaning his fuppos ( paternal aunt) place. For as long as he remembers she has natured him, through his rowdy teenage to troublesome coming to age period. The time before  his early childhood till ten is a blurr of vague memory to him. One he has never pressed on too much.

The rickshaw pulled up by the residential playground, five minutes away from his cousin's place. The first thing—better yet, the first person—he noticed was his youngest cousin flailing his arms aimlessly. God graces, why the idiot was doing a weird dance in the middle of the road was a mystery to him. His eyesight was bad, but clearly, he couldn't miss out on such a poor excuse for a human.
"Where have you been, Bhai? Better yet, where's your phone!?" There it goes.

"Where do we keep our phones, Zaid? In our pockets. That's where mine's been," Shuvro nonchalantly shrugs, walking up to the iron gates that stand before them. Shortly after, the teen catches up to his older brother.

"Then, why didn't you pick it up!?" Zaid grumbles, sworing nonsense under his breath. Though it's cut short as Shuvro glances at him rising his brow.When did this kid go from looking at him with all those glittery star eyes to an ancient emo kid? Sigh.

"Oh God, you're being such a bimbo like Sahana. Come on, I came home after ages; be nice." He lectures the younger one, swinging his arm over Zaid's shoulder. Ah, the first thing about teens—allergic to emotions.No way Zaid would comply with this embarrassment predicament, so he tries to wiggle away, letting out a groan. But who said that Shuvro would let go so easily? Zaid's hunched frame was easily 5 to 6 inches shorter than Shuvro. The difference between their physiques played a role as well. Though it wouldn't be long before he catches up to Shuvro, he was just sixteen after all.
Shuvro wondered how tall zaid was now.

"How tall are you now, grumpy face?"

" what will you do with that?" Zaid spits back, now tucked to his brothers side like a boreeto, clearly irritated and embarrassed.

" what will you do with that?" Shuvro mimics back, in the most zaidsh voice he could master. An annoying on to that as he rolls his eye. If only someone told him what a pain in the butt having a younger sibling would be. "

I asked so just answer. 5 feet 1, 2. Or is it even shorter."

" Bhaiya!"

" 5 feet 3?"

"5 feet 5."

" See wasn't that hard." Shuvro ruffles his head, grinning up. For the rest of the way the banter goes on.

The house his fuppo lived in wasn't awfully huge, but the two-storeyed (semi-three with the rooftop room) house reeked of wealth, from the expensive marble tiles to the European mirror work, down to the beautiful lantern that hung by the front door. House No. 32 was quite a contrast to all the buildings lined up in the block.

The moment he emerged in the living room in all his glory, he was whisked away with the flock of children—children who belonged to his fuppos side of uncles, aunts, and even some of his cousins. All of whom were busy with their own pairs of folks, huffing with the relief of shrugging their children off.

It wasn't strange, though, that his fuppo was howling about the entirety of her fourteen generations in the littlest incontinence. So, he grinned wide, following the kids as they settled on the floor, with Zaid closely behind. Apparently, the house groupings were divided into three: the gossip aunties in the dining room, the uncles settled for the rooftop (easy to hide the tobacco- in case), and the teens and kids flaked in the living room.

"what are we going to do this time, shuvro Bhai? The last drama was a blast." Alif, his second in line cousin chats excitedly, eyes twinkling. Who would believe this dude was on his way to medics second year?

" Ph-in-khy goat!" Shuvros littlest niece squeals, the one proudly bounching on his lap. " You liked it?" Shuvro coos her, combing her smooth baby hair. Proud of his own achievement, the fact that his niece remembered the goat he painted for their last stage drama.

" Nah, the goat was tooo traditional. We should try something bigger. "

"Yeah, right. Let's hire a elephant from the zoo." Alif jabs at his younger sister sarcastically. Though it was short lived when another of the kids excitedly claps.

" I wanna get on the elephant too!"

" Me"

" Me!"so the oldest five share a glance, only to settle on one for rescue. Shuvro. As if in que he makes his own ensert getting the final say.

" Silence!"

" Children's grow up"

All eyes dart to him including the second generation gang as well. Unlike his usual playfull charm, a solemn expression mare his face until he continues.

"Cause we are doing a even better drama this time!"

The entirety of it erupts in kidsi screams, an erupt of cheers to the point their mother's had to howl down to check if any of their children has killed each other...  in cease.

Though it all Shuvro can't help the nudging instinct - that something was awfully odd of it all. Something he couln't pint point.

I said this many times before, I'll say this again this story isn't based on romance trope. It was never the center point.
So, don't expect any love interest or whatsoever to pop up any time soon or at all.

My main concern is to write a character that will have a real personality. Someone the readers can visualise in there head, someone who'll linger in there mind for long.

Since you have already stumbled upon this story, read the chapter do me a favour kindly- go to the comments section and write off the first thing that come in your head about Shuvro.

Thank you, have a good day ahead.

28th October, 2024.