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Three lives on a Pahela Baishakh

Naomi Ahmad
There was an Apple on the table. One took a bite from the ripe red side; another took a bite from the slightly sour green side; while the third just looked on
In one corner of the city Faiza was lost in her daydreams. She still couldn't decide whether to wear her red heels or her white strap sandals. The last issue of the fashion magazine had said that this month s fashion was all white with a little dash of red. Which is why she had chosen cherry red for her manicure and pedicure. Shumi had raised an eyebrow: usually Faiza preferred lighter shades on her nails, but well, you really cant disregard what the fashion gurus say, thought Faiza. Faiza liked Shumi. She spoke Bangla with that slight lilt those Chakma beautyparlor girls had, and she always made herself available for Faiza to give her extra attention. Little things that big tips can buy, thought Faiza as she smiled to herself.
Faiza was a little bored. She had been here from 3pm, doing her hair and getting all shiny and polished for tomorrow. A true devotee to her fashion magazine Faiza was planning on wearing a white sari. A white muslin with white appliques done all over. It cost a mini fortune, but a girl has got to spoil herself sometimes, thought Faiza. Plus it was bought from one of those exclusive boutiques, so that also counted. She stretched. It was almost 8 pm and she had been scrubbed and rubbed for so long that she felt almost brand new! Faiza tried to pass the time by thinking over her plans for tomorrow. A late morning, followed by a light salad lunch and back here to get Shumi to put the sari on her, do her hair and eyes....and voila! She would be ready for the Pahela Baishakh dinner in whichever five star Daddy decides to patronize this time.
Contented, Faiza settled back further in the soft cushions of her seat. And now to that all-important question: red heels or white strap sandals?
In another corner of thecity
Shefali sat cross-legged on her bed. She was pouring out the contents of her purse and counting all the little coins and change. She was feeling slightly giddy with excitement. Her Pahela Baishakh sari was lying on the bed, where Amma had gently put it down after ironing it herself. It was white with red paar and sequins put on it. When Amma had heard
that Shefali was to be in the choir and singing at Ramna Botomul tomorrow, she had insisted that she buy a new sari. Shefali had gone around and around, all over Chandi Chawk looking for a sari that fitted into her budget.
Amma had pushed a 500 Taka note into her hands, but Shefali was determined to return some of it. She had spent a considerable portion of her morning trying to get something for 300 or so, until she had seen this particular sari. It grabbed her attention and refused to let it go, and after finally struggling with her conscience Shefali had decided to go beyond her initial plan and overspend a little. Expertly initiating the bargaining, Shefali soon brought the price down from Take 800 to 450 and then the sari washers!
Going home she suddenly felt guilty at spending so much for a new sari on Pahela Baishakh. Usually she would just wear her one and only Pahela Baishakh sari - no one seemed to notice as long as it was white and red! Once home, Shefali had taken Amma aside and confided in her. But Amma had just smiled and told her not to worry - just enjoy her special day. But still, almost half of what Baba earns inadayforjustasari!
Now Shefali was on her bed counting out the change in her
purse. Gathering all the coins and small change that she had saved for the past three months by cutting back on various expenses, Shefali found that she had around 65 Taka in her purse. Enough! Spent wisely, this would be enough for the few refreshments she would have tomorrow. Shefali turned around to look at her new sari once again. Tomorrow would be the highlight of her month.
In the center of the city Asma was crouched in front of the bucket of flowers. She carefully poured some water over their stalks and watched it tickle down into the bucket. Tomorrow will be a long day, she thought. Mentally she tried to chalk out her plan for tomorrow.
At the crack of dawn, she will join the rush at Botomul. The flower supplier had advised her to target the couples: the men usually liked to buy flowers to put in their women's hair and generally didn't bargain much in front of their lady friends. She decided that tomorrow she would not stop to daydream about floating away to the rhythm of the music. Tomorrow would see her on her busy feet trying to sell her flowers to as many people as possible.
Asma decided to go to the Dhaka University campus in the afternoon. There would be
more couples to target there and plus, she would also be able to see the apas with their new sari and bangles. Just watching them would keep my mind of Ma and her ill, feverish face. Her drab dress, the color of burnt leaves would allow her to mingle into the background and no one will notice her sidelong looks at the apas in their fineries. And if luck is on her side, maybe she will happen to fall in front of one of those bideshis who would take a picture of her with their cameras and push a big sized tip in her hands. God knows how many of such tips I badly need, thought Asma as she smiled a small sad smile.
In the evening, she decided to go try and sell some flowers in front of Hotel Sonargaon . Ma is ill, she needs a day off from breaking bricks. I must, definitely must, sell as much as possible.
Asma touched a petal of a flower lovingly. How soft and pretty it is! She longed to keep one back, just one, for herself tomorrow. But no, they must all be sold. All and more if possible. For tomorrow is Pahela Baishakh, the day of red and white, the day of flowers. And admist all the flower that would bring so much joy tomorrow, crouched a girl who just looked on...
Student of Media and Communication, IUB.