My Best Friend Rahim Who Could Not Come With Us

After the riots of 1946, things became very bad in our area. Many Hindu families decided to leave East Bengal and go to West Bengal. My father also said we had to go. He said it was no longer safe for us. I was very sad. I did not want to leave my home, my school, and my friends. Most of all, I did not want to leave Rahim. He was like my brother. We had grown up together. We shared food, played in the fields, and studied under the same tree. One evening, I went to Rahim’s house to say goodbye. His mother was crying. His father looked very serious. Rahim came out and we sat under our favourite neem tree. We did not speak much. We just sat quietly. Then Rahim said, “Will you come back one day?” I said yes, but I knew it was a lie. My father had already sold our land and bought train tickets. On the day we were leaving, Rahim came to the station with his father. He gave me a small wooden toy we used to play with. I gave him my favourite marble. We hugged each other and cried. His father and my father also hugged, but they did not speak. They just looked at each other with sad eyes. The train started moving. I kept waving at Rahim until I could not see him anymore. That was the last time I saw my best friend. Many years later, I tried to find him. I went back to our village after Bangladesh became independent. But his family had also left. Nobody knew where they went. Even today, when I see young boys playing together, I remember Rahim. Partition did not only divide the country. It divided hearts. It took away my brother from another religion. I still keep that wooden toy in a small box. It is all I have left of the friendship that the line on the map destroyed.