Fifteen days had passed since Ariyan arrived in Dhaka. The city no longer felt like a complete stranger, yet it constantly reminded him of his limitations. Sitting in the mess dining hall, chewing on thin dal and flat bread, Ariyan thought about the state of his pocket. The money his father had given him was almost gone, spent on admission forms, books, and mess rent. Ariyan knew that asking for more money from home would be an additional burden on his father. Moti Mia, the mess manager, had reminded him sharply this morning, "Make sure I get next month's rent on the first, Mr. Ariyan!"
Today, the results of the college tutorial exams were released. Ariyan had secured the highest marks in Physics and Math. But behind this joy, a dark cloud loomed in his mind. He knew that to survive in this city, he had to find his own way to earn.
While Ariyan was sitting in a corner of the library looking for tutoring advertisements in an old newspaper, Turjo and Raisa arrived. Turjo held an expensive iPhone, and Raisa carried a stack of new storybooks.
"What's the matter, Ariyan? What are you doing here all alone?" Raisa asked in her tinkling voice.
Ariyan tried to hide the newspaper slightly and said, "No, nothing. Just reading a bit."
Turjo sat next to Ariyan and looked at the paper. "Are you looking for a tuition, friend? Oh, come on! Why all this? Let's go to Dhanmondi Lake this afternoon. Raisa will treat us!"
Raisa smiled. "Yes, Ariyan, come on. You go straight back to the mess after class. What's wrong with a little hangout?"
Ariyan smiled faintly. "You guys go, I have some work." He thought to himself that they might not understand that even the bus fare to Dhanmondi was a big burden for him now.
On his way back from college, Ariyan stood on the Farmgate overbridge for a long time. There were small posters stuck there—'Experienced Tutor Wanted.' Ariyan tore off a few phone numbers. That night, lying in his bed in the mess, he took out his diary.
He called the first number that night. A man with a grave voice answered.
"Hello, I am Ariyan. I am a student at Dhaka Ideal College. I am calling after seeing your advertisement."
The man's name was Mr. Ashraf. He asked, "Where is your house? What are your results?"
Ariyan gave all the details. Mr. Ashraf said, "Okay, come to Dhanmondi Road 5 tomorrow. My son Amit is in class eight. He needs to be taught Math and Science."
A ray of hope appeared in Ariyan's mind. The next afternoon, he reached Mr. Ashraf's house on time. It was a massive house; the guard at the gate, Motaleb Mia, scrutinized him with a stern eye. When Ariyan went to Amit's room, he saw the boy playing video games.
Amit's mother, Munmun Begum, looked at Ariyan with a bit of a snooty expression. "Will you be able to handle my son at this young age? The previous teacher ran away because of his mischief!"
Ariyan said very politely, "I will try, Madam."
On the first day, Amit started asking Ariyan all sorts of difficult questions. But Ariyan explained everything very patiently and simply. Amit's eyes opened in wonder. "Wow, Sir! My school teachers never explained these things so easily!"
The tuition was confirmed. As Ariyan was walking back, his heart filled with pride. This was going to be his first earning.
However, the problems of mess life were not letting go. Another senior boarder of the mess, Rafiq Bhai, who works in an insurance company, called Ariyan to the balcony one day.
"Listen Ariyan, I'm telling you this because I see you're a good boy. There are some boys here like Sohag and Kalam who do drugs. Stay away from them. They will call you for hangouts in the name of group study, but don't go."
Ariyan listened to Rafiq Bhai's words carefully. He knows he didn't come here just for himself; he came for those people in his village who are waiting for him.
The next day at college, Raisa called Ariyan aside and said, "Ariyan, I know you were looking for a tuition. I have a cousin, Nidhi. She is in class nine. Can you give her some time?"
Ariyan looked at Raisa in surprise. Raisa might have understood Ariyan's situation, but she said it in a way that didn't hurt Ariyan's self-respect. Ariyan thanked Raisa.
That afternoon, Turjo wanted to give Ariyan a lift to his tuition on his bike.
"Come on friend, why are you hesitating? We are friends, right?" Turjo forced him onto the bike.
Sitting on the bike, Ariyan thought that just as Dhaka city had made him lonely, some people like Turjo and Raisa were teaching him to live anew.
But the problems didn't end here. A phone call came from his younger sister Milli from their village home. Milli's voice was crying. "Bhaiya, Abbu is sick. The doctor said he has a bit of a heart problem. Can you come?"
Hearing the news, the sky seemed to fall on Ariyan's head. He had just started his tuition and hadn't received any money yet. He went to the manager Moti Mia, crying, to ask for some money in advance.
Moti Mia spat out betel juice and said, "Hey man! Is the mess an NGO that I'll give a loan? Look for your own way."
While Ariyan was sitting helplessly in the mess, Jasim Bhai entered his room. Jasim Bhai took some money out of his pocket and handed it to Ariyan.
"Keep this, Ariyan. I know what it feels like to be in danger. You can give the money back later."
Ariyan squeezed Jasim Bhai's hand. He felt that even in this city of bricks, human affection had not died yet. He quickly set off for the railway station.
Sitting by the train window, Ariyan started his journey towards his village again. But this journey was not like the previous one. This time he was returning as a responsible son. He didn't have much money in his hand, but he had indomitable courage in his heart.
He wrote in his diary:
"Today I realized that history is not just made of studies. History is created by fighting against want, shedding tears for loved ones, and standing by people in danger. Dhaka has taught me cruelty, but people like Jasim Bhai and Turjo have taught me love."
The train is rushing towards Shantipur, piercing through the darkness of the night. Ariyan closed his eyes. He imagined his father's sick face, his mother's tearful eyes, and Milli's waiting gaze. This fourth chapter of his life reminded him once again—this path is long, and he has to be much stronger.
He said to himself, "Father, I am coming. I won't let you lose."