Tasnuva and Tahera: The Story of Two Flowers

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” (Rumi)

 

Karjon Hall. Old Dhaka. BANGLADESH – 24 February 2020

My name is Tasnuva and I'm 10 years old. I was born in the Mirpur District, a very populated district of Dhaka.

Mine is a large family and we all live in a small house. I sleep with my two little sisters, Tahera and Nipa, in one bed.

Tahera is 9 years old and with her we go almost every day to sell roses in Karjon Hall, from morning until late afternoon.

We both go by rickshaw; mom gives us the money to come and go.

To eat we must use the money from the roses we sell, but those are needed therefore we eat very little and we are as thin as the stems of the roses we sell. We like to wear red or pink clothes, so – jokingly – we say that people don't understand the difference between us and the flowers. 

One day that crazy Tahera said to me that we should color the skin of our legs and arms in green so we would be just like two roses.

“Pagol!”* I reply, and laugh so hard until tears come out of my eyes.

 

Mirpur District in the evening. BANGLADESH – 20 February 2020

We encourage each other, because it's hard to walk all the time, trying to convince lovers to buy our roses.

“Eta keno! Eta keno!”*

But most of the time they send us away like flies on jilipi.*

Sometimes we challenge each other, who manages to sell more roses in half a day.

I also stole a lipstick in a supermarket one day, and I painted my lips red as strawberries.

 

But it did not work...

 

My sister made fun of me and said bad words.

 

Yes, we do as best as we can. Often we sit on the grass and tell each other stories. We like fairy tales, and my sister always asks me to tell her the story of the clever kid who deceived the fox and the tiger,. We like it so much because even if the kid is small, he can fool a big tiger and a fox. 

Then we look at the people sitting, the tourists, and imagine what our life would be like if we were their daughters, or their little sisters. Of course we shouldn't sell roses every day and go hungry, we would have more new clothes and sandals. Sometimes, we go directly barefoot, so we save the soles of the shoes to go to school – when we go – because mom is ashamed of us...

 

Of course, there is little money and we have to give it to our boss in the evening. We are left with a few taka,* if we sell all the roses (almost never). If we don't sell anything, he kicks us and say many bad words.

 

Every time I stop someone to sell my beautiful long-stemmed roses, I would like to tell them all these things, maybe they will understand me and in the end they buy a rose. My sister is much tougher than  I am, she always repeats that people don't care about us. That we are only flies dressed in red.

That life sucks. It's easy to remove the thorns from the stem so as not to hurt the buyer, but we are the  one who have to suffer the thorns.

 

I don't know, I like to see people embracing each other, smiling, taking pictures.

Even if I look at them with tears in my eyes, because our father never smiles at us; mom says he's always tired. Bah!

I still want to believe that someone can care about me and Tahera.

We are not flies for real!

We are only two girls.

And then sometimes, when buying flowers, someone also caresses us and smiles.

You always have to hope, the teacher told us one day at school.

 

But, I don't really know what to hope for.

Every morning I get up and hope that it won't rain and that the boss won't kick us in the evening.

For the rest, I just want to keep smiling.

As I always say to Tahera, if you are always angry you will become even thinner and uglier and no one will buy your flowers.

Better for me!

So I will sell more, because my smile is the most beautiful flower

 

Thik ache?*

 

Karjon Hall. Old Dhaka. BANGLADESH – 24 February 2020

READ ALSO:

• The Little Princess: "My Bangladesh" Photo Series (6) 
• Beauty and Death 

* “Pagol!”: You are really crazy!

* “Eta keno!”: Buy!

 * Jilipi: typical Bangladeshi dessert (and from the Indian Subcontinent, made of fried batter in a circular shape)

 * Taka: Bangladeshi money

 * “Thik ache?”: Do you agree?

 

 Amrita Chaudhuri: “Bengali fairy tales” (Promosaik, 2018)

Rabindranath Tagore: “The mysteries of Bengal - Stories and tales of ghosts” (Donzelli Editore, 2006)

Italian version