The Weight of Hunger

Jayim’s housing estate was eerily quiet. It was midnight. It was too early for it to be this silent.

Almost every old house in the area had at least three or four cars in the ground-floor garage, and the new houses had ten to twelve. Starlets, Hyundai Accents, Allions, C-HRs, and Premios were the most common.

The night guards had closed the residential area’s main gate, leaving only the pocket gate open. That’s why there were no car horns at this hour. Just a couple of people could be seen on the road.

Dr. Afif Anwar’s chamber was on the ground floor of the next building. It was Wednesday, and his chamber was closed. If the chamber had been open, a couple of patients, along with half a dozen medical sales representatives, would have stayed until this late. They’d be seen sitting on parked bikes on the road, scrolling lazily through their mobile screens.

The balcony was drenched in the light of a cloudless full moon. The silence of the street was suddenly shattered by a clamorous shout – “Fish for sale! Fish!” Even two years ago, no hawker could enter this area. Now, many enter with the blessing of the security guards. Vegetables, fish, embroidered quilts, duplicate keys, old computers, UPS. But the voice of a female hawker had never been heard before. “Fish for sale! Fish!”

Jayim came out onto the fifth-floor balcony and looked down.

Ah, poor thing! It’s so late, and she’s still hawking fish. Due to low sales, she was still roaming the streets with the child in her arms. But there was no fish basket or cart with the woman. He tried to strain his neck a little more, a futile effort to see clearly. Just as he tried to dismiss the curiosity of a female vendor at this hour, he saw the woman staring right up at him from below.

Did the woman think Jayim was her potential customer? A touch of pity arose, but to deflect her gaze, Jayim took a long drag of his cigarette and looked up at the moon. The moon wasn’t a crescent; it was a full moon. In the blink of an eye, the woman shot up onto the balcony!

A skeletal body covered in thin skin. Frail, with dry, straw-like hair, a rag-like saree was somehow wrapped around her body. Her skin color might have been fair in some distant past. Due to extreme malnutrition, the skin was now colorless and pale, withered like that of an old woman. Seeing her up close, Jayim could perceive the hint of a young woman’s face alongside two simple eyes. She didn’t seem to be very old. She was supposedly in the prime of her youth. But the words ‘beauty’ and ‘youth’ held no meaning for her body now. The child in her arms looked even more dreadful than the mother. The bones were thin due to malnutrition. There was no fat, perhaps not even a drop of flesh on its body. The skin seemed loosely draped over the gaunt bones—bloodless, colorless, and slack. It was clear that this malnutrition had afflicted it since before it saw the light of the world, suffering and continuing to suffer since the mother’s womb. Its eyes were emotionless and still, like a fish’s. Due to the lack of necessary energy for survival, its nervous system seemed to be shutting down. It seemed the brain wasn’t functioning; it seemed this child did not stand, laugh, play, walk, or even speak.

With a child completely incapable of attracting love or affection slung on her shoulder, the mad mother asked, “Fish for sale? Fish?”

She raised her hand and showed it. Only then did Jayim see her fish. A small fish inside a polythene bag filled with oxygenated water. It had red stripes on its white body and golden and black spots.

Though the full moon’s light glittered like a new coin, the balcony seemed to be cast in the full moon’s shadow. The woman said, “A Japanese fish, Koisakama. Some call it a Koi Carp. Whoever keeps this fish will fall in love with it. And yes, these fish cannot tolerate insult.”

Her voice was slightly weak, yet the pronunciation was refined, distinctly devoid of any slurring.

“If it ever feels insulted, it commits suicide. It refuses to eat and drink, stays silent, and then dies. So I’m telling you, keep it, and take the challenge of keeping it alive. Not everyone gets a second chance in life, and if they do, it’s a blessing,” she said, staring him directly in the eyes.

This time, fear made Jayim’s heart pound even harder. This woman was a terrible menace. A lunatic. He had to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

“Sorry, I don’t have an aquarium.”

The madwoman said, “I knew it. What else did you have to say?”

“Tell me something, though. How did you get here?”

“Forget about the coming and going. But remember, I exist. In the weave of the tapestry hung on the wall, you and I are a form of the same thread. My name is Turin.”

As soon as he heard the name, a wave of hot air seemed to rush out of his body.

“Hey! Don’t get all holy and vague! No riddles, answer my question!

She vanished as instantly as she had arrived. The child attempted to say something in a faint voice, but its weakness made the words indistinct.

To settle the goosebumps on his arms, Jayim came into the drawing room and sat on the sofa. The TV was on, showing a fire in Dhanmondi. The TV was showing a live telecast. Jayim saw himself trying to extinguish the fire with the fire service personnel.

His face kept appearing on the TV screen. His breathing rate increased further. His muscles tensed.

Jayim couldn’t believe his own eyes. His face wasn’t just appearing on the TV screen; it was like a reflection in a mirror. Every move, every breath he took, matched the screen’s image. The fire is burning, and many people—children, elderly, and youth—are trying to put it out.

At first, he saw himself running alongside the firefighters, carrying the 100-foot fire hose connected to the fire engine to extinguish the flames. He was wearing a black T-shirt with white, grunge-font text across the chest, and olive-green pants. His face had a few grey stubble, unshaven for a fortnight. But now, he had stepped away from that effort and was facing himself. Behind him were the screams of many people, the desperate pleas for rescue, the urgency to save others, and the raging flames of the blazing fire. The TV was like a gateway. He reached it, and though he tried to get lost in the crowd, he couldn’t. He turned back towards himself. He could see fear in his own eyes—a restless reflection.

Something he couldn’t comprehend was happening.

Suddenly, the TV scene changed. He was no longer on the screen.

The fire, the crowd, the screams, the frantic efforts of the firefighters in their black-ash-orange camouflage uniforms—nothing remained. The live telecast camera panned and zoomed in on the street outside Jayim’s building. Turin stood motionless beneath the full moon. The small child was in her arms. In her hand was the plastic bag with half-filled water. The small Koisakama now looked much bigger than before. It had left the plastic bag and was floating in the air.

It slowly circled Turin and the small child in her lap, spinning hypnotically like little fairies from a fantasy realm. The child, who had been burying its face in Turin’s shoulder, lifted its head. With its two listless eyes fixed on the camera, it said, “I’m very hungry. Give us something to eat?” Its voice reverberated off the drawing room walls, though its lips hadn’t moved at all. A whisper, like a shard of ice, slid down Jayim’s spine. Jayim froze, unable to move his body in any way. The child’s voice echoed from within his head. He looked at his hands and saw they were shaking. Though his will wasn’t functioning, his senses were alive. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

His body grew cold. The TV screen started to flicker again. Modern TV screens don’t usually do this. Such problems used to happen with old TVs. Was the channel signal lost from the cable operator? Or was it something else? He looked out the window. The world outside was bathed in the full moon’s light. He could also see himself floating in the air. Jayim couldn’t find his house anymore. It had vanished into the night sky. The moon seemed closer. The enormous size of the moon choked his breath.

Turin reappeared. She was standing right in front of Jayim with her son. Her body was no longer skeletal; it was strong, regal. Her magnificent physique glowed with the vibrant color of blossoming youth. She was wearing a ‘Symphony of White’ silk saree. Her blouse, a black velvet piece adorned with cut-dana stone embroidery, created a smooth, flowing effect. Her long, tightly bound hair cascaded straight down to her waist. The child holding her hand no longer appeared bloodless, colorless, or frail. It was healthy, strong, and more radiant. It looked at him with a cheerful, innocent, smiling face. The large Koisakama still circled them, spreading an aura of hypnosis. The moonlight hitting the fish’s white body, red stripes, and golden spots reflected an unearthly light.

“You don’t have the capacity to feed the Koisakama,” Turin said in a soft voice. Her voice was no longer faint but firm. “Now, the Koisakama will feed on you.”

Before Jayim could say anything, the Koisakama, swimming through the air, lunged at him, tore open his chest, and entered his body. Jayim screamed, but no sound escaped! His mind raced, as if in sleep paralysis. His muscles went numb. There was tremendous pain inside. He felt like he was suffocating. Turin and the child in her arms watched from a distance. Electricity flowed through the veins in his body. His heart seemed to start an Olympic sprint. His breath came in rapid gasps. Just like before, he couldn’t move his limbs at all. Jayim felt like someone was consuming him piece by piece.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Jayim’s room returned. The fire in Dhanmondi was still showing live on TV.

The flames, the coils of black smoke, the firefighters’ efforts, the wounded being loaded into ambulances, the curious crowds, people filming on their phones—everything was as it was before, but Jayim was gone. Jayim’s hands were no longer shaking, but he felt hollow inside. It felt as if a part of his body had been taken out.

Tripping over the narrow cement threshold at the balcony door, Jayim looked down. The thirty-foot-wide road was now completely silent. Turin and her child were gone, but the moon still hung huge in the sky. Jayim looked up at the sky and took a puff of another cigarette.

He felt an all-consuming instinct awaken inside him—HUNGER!

In the distance, the splashing sound of a fish swimming could be heard.