Reflection Of Life

Chapter:12 -Money means Happiness - Really?

Saima was rummaging through an old wardrobe drawer of her mother, when she came across a huge amount of blue envelops, tied with a matching ribbon. She wondered what those could be, so she untied the ribbon cautiously to satisfy curiosity. Out came a few pale yellow papers with typed texts on them. Those looked like romantic poems written for a special someone.


“Love letters? I wonder whose these are.” Saima thought out loud. She had a habit of talking to herself when there was none around. With such a busy mother, she had hardly anyone to talk to. Yes, her grandparents were very affectionate, but still, sometimes loneliness surrounded her. That was when she liked to look through childhood memories, or maybe memories of her mother’s early life.


“Saima, time for a little snack, dear!” She could hear her grandma’s rough, yet soothing voice. She replied with a smile:
“Coming Nani, just give me a second.”


Soon after, a slender, medium figure could be seen climbing down the steep stairs. Saima looked stunning in a red sequined Maxi, a semi frock, semi gown type dress ladies usually wore at night. The table was set only for her and her grandpa; her mother had a business meeting to attend.

“Looks like Saima didn’t make the Basil tea today.” Grandpa commented.
“Oh, just didn’t feel like, Nana.” Saima replied in a tired voice. All she wanted to do was just lie down in her Mom’s lap, the same way she had seen Fariha do, whenever she would go to their house. Parveen Aunty would even allow her to share the warmth of a mother’s hand in her hair, as she would just lie down without worries.

Between sips of normal raw tea with homemade cookies, Grandpa talked about Saima’s mother’s childhood. Grandma sometimes joined in, adding information about various parts of her life. Saima always enjoyed stories which circulated around her father, who passed away when she was just three years old.

A drunken truck driver was the reason for that premature death. From then on, the widow had to handle her husband’s business all by herself. Being a woman, this was not an easy job. She often got proposals from other male colleagues, but she could never give her beloved husband’s place to another man. After all, she had just one heart, and only one man could enter her heart.

Saima left the snack table in a hurry. She had plenty of work to do. Her pet dog had to be fed, her bed was still unmade, and she had stacks of homework piled on her table. A great fan of Japanese animated cartoons, she spent a significant watching Animax, an animated cartoon channel which was watched in Bangladesh, but was not as popular as Cartoon Network or Disney Channel.


The loud noise from the stereo next door almost busted her eardrums. Even the setting sun did not seem as beautiful as it did before. Isabella, her pet terrier, tried playing fetch with her, but the well-loved pet had to be disappointed that day. Everything seemed to be in place, yet a place in her heart was vacant. Saima paced to and fro in her large comfortable bedroom. Her refrigerator was always filled with snacks, some healthy, some not so healthy.

The oven beside the kitchen had a chocolate vanilla layer cake being baked in it. Saima just peeped inside to see how it was going on. Still a lot of time had to be given for a completely baked dessert.

Just then, her cellphone signaled:
“Hey there, hope you’re doing well – Fariha”
Just a simple text message made her smile, but the cake had to be taken out, and it required some last lashings of cream, so Saima did not reply to her friend at that moment.


Next morning, Saima woke up earlier than usual. The atmosphere outside wore a coat of thick fog. It was not so easy to get out of the blanket so soon during winter. The tempting aroma of traditional rice cakes, or Pitha, as called in Bangla, made her hungry. Dewdrops adorned the leaves of the potted plants in the balcony. Isabella was also awake, munching on a bowl of Pedigree dog food.


“Sorry girl can’t take you for a walk outside today. It’s way too cold.” Saima stroked the thick fur of the terrier.


“Woof!” Isabella barked.

Saima watched as her pet rolled in the floor, playing with a soft squeaky toy. Isabella had a soft bed sheet at one corner of her mistress’s room, only for the doggy desires. That corner even had a small cabinet filled with doggy treats, which Isabella could open with her paws. The terrier worked as a guard for her mistress, and also as a source of satisfaction whenever Saima felt like fondling someone.


Her mother was quite fond of Saima and her brother, but spending quality time with the siblings was not possible at all, as she was the only breadwinner of the family, and the woman often had to stay abroad, or even if she was within Bangladesh, she had to be out of Dhaka city almost twenty days in a month. As a result, the mother showered her children with money whenever they asked for it. Her brother studied in a residential university. Though the elder brother called frequently to check on his sister, it really did not quench her thirst of being with him personally. On the other hand, studies hardly gave the older sibling enough time to think about anything else. Life of a medical student was not so easy.

Besides, though she could feel the love of her grandparents, certain things could never be shared with elderly people, they might think otherwise. She did not want to hurt their sentiments in any way.

When she felt lonely, Saima sometimes liked to pamper herself with a home pedicure, a mini facial, or maybe a manicure. That day, she prepared a face pack with rose water and sandalwood powder. The mixture looked a little messy but it was way better than the normal chemical facial scrubs available in the market. She sat comfortably on a chair, her face completely covered with the mixture, and two round slices of cucumber on her eyes. It felt so relaxing indeed.


After a few minutes, Saima felt a familiar touch in her hair, and the aroma of jasmine soon filled the room. Someone was giving her a hair massage with jasmine hair oil. The fingers felt neither like her grandma’s, nor like her mother’s. Saima extended a hand to touch the person doing the favor. It was a slender, feminine arm, with a very faint perfume of Vaseline body lotion.

She instantly recognized the scent: “Fariha! Is it really you?” she exclaimed.

“Yes, me, the unwanted guest!” Fariha replied, with a mixed expression on her face.


“You were never unwanted, dear. Though I don’t know what the problem between you two was, but I surely know she was expecting you.” Saima’s grandma appeared with two tempting mugs of hot chocolate. The tiled floor squeaked under her sandaled feet as she exited through the door, leaving it ajar behind her.


“Sorry, Sam, I had to sneak in. Otherwise I would never know why you were angry with me. What did I do?” Fariha asked in a confused tone.


“It’s just that I was so envious of you. I don’t know why! Sometimes I seriously wish I could swap my life with you.” Saima confessed.


“Hey come on Sam, you’re already part of my life, so what is the swapping thing all about?” Fariha asked indignantly.


“Well, I…” Saima could not speak any further. She just held her friend in a tight hug, and obviously, sometimes touches work much better than words.

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