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After college holidays, I would often come to the back of the college. There was a thorny tree with a broken head. Subna would stand there for me.

She would stand with her head bowed, and if she came too late, she would wipe her eyes and completely wet the end of her veil. The tree was still blooming with flowers. The sky in the courtyard of the tree would be lit up with a fire of color.

 He would hold out his hand towards me, holding a handful of some fallen crunchy nuts. I would say, "What are you going to do with all this?" He would stare at me blankly. He truly loved me. 

That day I was able to understand the distinct scent of innocent love, I understood his many rights towards me, his stubbornness, his anger, his promise not to leave me.

I was walking on the banks of the Padma on a winter afternoon, Subana holding my right hand tightly. The mustard fields around the edge were humming with the scent of flowers. 

Subna's face was shining in the crimson glow of the afternoon sun. Sometimes she looked at my face, then lowered her head. She asked softly, "Will you marry me?" I say, we are still young, everything will happen in time. In fact, we have grown old, only our reality has not grown old.

I understood that when you love someone deeply, the raw, unadulterated truth comes out. The folds of their fingers as they held each other's hands told me that they truly loved me.

He walks by and says, "Will you buy me a pair of earrings? A  handful of glass bangles?" I would smile and say, "Yes, yes, I will give you everything."

This is the story of the clay of my life. The banks of the Padma, the mustard fields, the busiest streets, are still the same as before.

Still, on some afternoon, I laugh. Only Subna is not in this chapter.

I am still alive. Just like everyone else lives.