Delicate Warrior

Illustration: TBS

I am leaving for Spain by midnight but first I need to meet someone. I needed to bid farewell to the girl I knew . The girl was grappled with fear of the unknown but at the same time the overarching determination and dream to be free. Free to explore, free to experience, free to make mistakes and find none to externalize the blame. Not rely on someone to fall upon and not walk on eggshells in the fear of disappointing the other person. Had to bid goodbye to the part of myself with fear – fear of the unknown, fear of being alone and worse still fear of being left alone…

As I walked into the airport with a tense mind and racing heart I looked one last time at my family – parents and brother skeptic on my ability to be on my own and also determined to let me be. They finally gave in to my determination. They knew too well by now there was no stopping me.

At the entrance to the security machine I put the heavy bag in the wrong way and the machine beeped. I looked back at my brother in embarrassment and quickly looked away. Trying to ignore the constant negative thoughts I managed to get the 3 bags and set to find the check-in counter. Dhaka airport is always filled with migrant workers going to the middle east and other parts of the world to earn living for themselves and earn dollars so that the other half of the population can pursue their dreams of traveling. After locating the counter I take my luggage and stand in the queue. Looking around at the people I notice change. 

While I was expecting mainly migrant workers in the plane, there were very few of them. Now there were more upper class immigrants going to Canada and the USA. Some visit their children who have settled with their North American dream with pride in their eyes as they go on about their nomadic life. Half year at home and half year with their children. Some found Permanent Residency and moved to North America permanently. With excitement in their eyes and enthusiasm in their movement they look forward to their life in a foreign country far from the chaos, the heat, the humidity and also from the paradoxical love of family. 

Remaining were students who came from vacation and have a resigned look mainly living behind their comfortable lifestyle and overprotective parents and few expatriates came working to Bangladesh and now either living or going to holidays with a sigh of relief from the imprisoned life here. Alife that doesn't allow them to be outdoorsy and makes them restricted in the diplomatic enclave.

As I stood in the queue at the check-in counter, I saw my colleague with his family standing in the line of another airline. Seeing him for the first time I felt so much ease and a feeling that I was not alone soothed me. He came running to me and I realized he is leaving Bangladesh permanently for a position in HongKong. He was with his family with his entire life being packed in 4 suitcases with children running around and wife by his side. We chat for
a few minutes. I congratulated him for his success in securing a position abroad and wondered when I can be in his shoes. After a few exchanges he left for boarding.

As my queue progressed I completed my check in and being lighter without the heavy bags proceeded to the immigration counter which proved to be smooth at the face of my heavy  weight employer and increasing solo female travelers. Post check-in I found the airport lounge. The airport lounge is quite a place which witnessed phases of my life. I always set foot there with my husbands' but that day I was alone. I was nervous with a sense of Liberation.

Carefully glancing over the flight on the screen I browsed through the menu and after a quick dinner and spending an hour there proceeded for boarding. Till boarding I kept on providing my father with updates. As I boarded the plane and fastened my seat belt, I turned on airplane mode and closed my eyes. The plane begins to move and quickly takes off. I open my eyes and look into the disappearing view of Dhaka City. Not only did I bid goodbye to the city, I bade goodbye to the girl wrapped in fear of being alone.

This story is part of a collection developed in a creative writing workshop run by Shazia Omar. If you would like to join the next workshop, please email her: [email protected]