Image created by Golam Mohiuddin | AI-Generated (Gemini)

Chandralekha on the Balcony

— The Silence Between the Installments —

Life is not a dividend that has to be paid off in installments — it ended up taking Chandralekha a long time to realize this simple truth.

What we perceive as freedom — increasing credit card limits, keys to expensive cars, or the deeds to a flat — are not liberation at all, but rather new sets of chains. We embrace these chains with great affection. And right then, the river inside our chest begins to dry up. We don’t notice it, because we are too busy with EMI calculations and the sound of the boss’s emails.

Memories of that village home drift back. The river behind it. On rainy afternoons, Mother used to say, “The river never stops, dear; its nature is to flow.” Today, that river within Chandralekha’s chest has dried into a desert. There is no sound of rain there, no play of waves. Only a strange silence trapped within concrete walls. That river is now filled only with the sands of memory, where, when the sun burns, it stirs up sighs.

It is 2:30 AM. Seattle or Dhaka — it makes no difference. The text on the banking app screen is blurring. The calculation for the 15-year installment floats before her eyes repeatedly. In the process of paying off the EMI for the flat, Chandralekha has actually killed the “water source” of her own life.

Her husband is sleeping inside. He, too, is a tired traveler. Chandralekha looked toward the balcony railing. In the distance, the city lights are flickering. Is this freedom? Or are they the ash of the burnt memories of thousands of people like us?

If freedom is an inherent sorrow, is holding onto that sorrow the final destiny? Chandralekha set down the coffee cup. She understood that life is not a bill of installments. Life was that river, which we have held captive with dams.

The light on the balcony went out. Tomorrow morning, it’s back to that rat race again, back to those concrete walls. But tonight, Chandralekha at least knows — even though the river has dried up, the memory of its current is still alive somewhere within her chest. And having this realization is perhaps her greatest liberation at this moment.

She turned off the balcony light and returned inside. Tomorrow at 9 AM, she will have to descend into that rat race again. But tonight, Chandralekha at least knows — she is buying a luxury that is emptying her from within. Having this realization is perhaps her greatest achievement at this moment.