Published in Parabaas, April 20, 2011.
When Jashim announced the news that day, about a dozen people had just picked up their cups of tea. The afternoon sunlight begun creeping into the unfenced teashop through the gaps in the banyan leaves. The sunlight cast shadows on the faces of a few, making them look rather nice. It smoothed away their weariness and refreshed them. Square shadows tumbled on to the ground as well. As if a young girl had painted alpana on the roots of the banyan with a delicate hand. The sun had not touched Jashim’s hairless face. A bushy branch shielded his face from the sun. It seemed as if the banyan tree felt a special affection for his flat, squashed face. Jashim looked at all the faces one by one. Then he focused his gaze on the young banyan leaves that hung in front of him and said, “Seventy year old Nurali Howladar’s got seventeen year old Moirom pregnant.”