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287 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 2025
"ঠিক কবে থেকে আমি এই গল্পটা বলার জন্য অপেক্ষা করছি, তা নিজেও জানি না। একবার মনে হয়, আমার জন্মেরও আগে হয়তো এই অপেক্ষা শুরু হয়েছিল।"
When I was in the UK, everyone around me was reading this book, hyping it up, posting reviews, saying how amazing it was, and naturally, I got curious. I wanted to get my hands on it right away. I knew I could just ask Mahrin Apu for the softcopy, but I held back for a few months. I don’t usually like asking for digital copies of new books. I prefer buying them, and, I’m not a big fan of reading Bangla books in softcopy if I can get the physical version. But eventually, I couldn’t wait any longer. I asked her directly. Yes, the author herself. Without asking anything, she sent it to me immediately. She’s genuinely the coolest. I’ve known her since the Aqua Rezia days. I don’t clearly remember how I felt about that one book though. Maybe I didn’t love it back then. But I did love Golpogulo Bari Geche. As for her previous novel, I didn’t quite enjoy it at the time. To be fair, I wasn’t a very mature reader then. I’ll admit that. I’m pretty sure my perspective would be different if I read it now.
Anyway, about this book, it really went beyond my expectations. Reading it felt like walking through fog in a city I thought I knew. A bit familiar but distant. The kind of distance that creeps in when life keeps moving, but a part of you stays behind, stuck somewhere quieter. Mahrin Apu didn’t tell a story so much as she let one unfold layer by layer, like memories you try to forget but keep remembering anyway. There’s pain here, but no loud grieving, just a dull ache that never really leaves. I related to that more than I expected. The narrator carries so much: loss, confusion, longing. But she does it with restraint. The trauma, the fractured relationships, the loneliness, they’re all there but never sensationalized. It made the whole thing feel more honest. More dangerous, even. What I appreciated is how the book didn’t try too hard to impress. It’s messy in places. Some characters felt distant. Some threads could’ve gone deeper. But that’s what made it feel real to me. In life, not everything gets a full explanation. The city is everywhere in this story. It’s not literally everywhere but it’s there as a wound. And reading it, I couldn’t help but feel like I was also carrying parts of that wound. My own versions of what the characters were going through. It reminded me how people disappear, how things get buried, and how silence can stretch for years. By the end, I wasn’t left with clarity. I was left with a weight I couldn’t shake. The kind of weight that stays even after you close the book.