A shameful memory
By Md Habib Mansur
None lives without memory. Every memory has its own significance. Some eventful memory lasts long and remains bright for life. Some, with due course of time, becomes faded. Some memories are glorious and some of painful sorrow. Some we recapitulate, some we never want to do so. Some memories are shameful too, which we want to forget.
Here, I would like to narrate one such shameful memory, which, exceptionally, is one that I would like to remember for the rest of my life instead of forgetting, as it was a lesson to me. Though the event occurred in my personal life, it has a universal message, which I believe should be shared with others, too.
My elder son who lives in Australia invited us (his mom me) to attend his convocation ceremony, as well as his sons (our grandson) birthday. Accordingly, we travelled there. As this is not a travelogue, I am not going to narrate about our trip, though we visited many places there during our stay of four months.
While staying at my sons house, we met so many families of his friend circle. They all were gentle and amiable. We will remember them for long. One exceptional couple was Stefen and Prisila.
Stefen was of Indian origin and was of my age. They had five children, all adults and married and living separately. Stefen and Prisila lived alone in their big house, which was adjacent to my sons. They had a kitchen garden and they used to spend a lot of their time out there. Very often, Stefen would give beans, chilies and other garden produce to my son. We met four or five times during our four-month stay there.
The shameful event happened on the day of our return journey. Our flight was in the early morning and we had to start at midnight from my sons home. When we were getting ready to leave, all on a sudden, my son got out of his driving seat. I watched him pick up an envelope from the bonnet of the car which was pasted with tape. I thought it was something for him from some of his nearby friends.
To my utter surprise, after coming back to his seat, my son handed the envelope to me. And more surprisingly, I saw that it was meant for my wife and me. In a note written on a card, Stefen and Prisila, whom we had forgotten to meet before our departure, wished our safe return to Bangladesh. Not only mere wishes, but also as a token of love from Australia, Stefen had enclosed a 50-dollar note with the greeting card.
I was stunned and speechless for the moment, and thinking what I should do. I was repenting for my negligence. I never thought about Stefens gracious mind. I admit frankly that I did not reciprocate the friendship that he desired from me, as I was of his same age group. My mistake was that I treated him only as a neighbour of my son, and not as a friend of mine.
After that nights incident, I realised that Stefen and Prisila had soft corners within their hearts for my wife and me. But alas! I could do nothing at that moment. It was not possible to approach them at that time of midnight, when they were sleeping not so far from us. Ashamed at myself, I simply heaved a sigh and asked my son to start, and the car rolled on.
The writer is a retired government official.
Photos: Internet
