The Price of a Lie

The next few days were suffocating. I couldn’t bring myself to meet Abba’s or Amma’s gaze. Every smile, every hopeful glance they gave me felt like daggers. I had chained myself to this lie, and the weight of it grew heavier with every passing moment. I knew the truth would eventually come out. It wasn’t a matter of if—it was when.One evening, while Abba was sitting on the veranda, I approached him. My heart raced as I rehearsed my lines in my head.“Abba, I’ve decided. I’ll leave for Dhaka next week,” I said, trying to sound composed.Abba’s eyes lit up, the corners of his lips curling into a rare smile. “Glad to hear that, son. Go there and make us proud. I always dreamt of this day—the day my son would step into the world as a BCS officer.”I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I won’t let you down, Abba.”“Start earning as soon as you can, Ashique. Salam reminds me every day that time is running out. He threatened me again this morning.”“I will, Abba. I promise.”When the day of my departure arrived, Amma couldn’t hold back her tears. She hugged me tightly, her frail arms trembling.“You’ll come back soon, won’t you?” she whispered.I nodded, unable to speak. The entire village gathered to see me off, showering me with their blessings and wishes. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. To them, I wasn’t just leaving for Dhaka; I was leaving to fulfill their hopes. But in truth, I wasn’t going to Dhaka to thrive—I was going there to survive.The bus ride was uneventful, but the moment I stepped foot in Dhaka, I was struck by its sheer chaos. The air was thick with dust, choking and heavy. The streets buzzed with relentless noise, and the faces around me were hurried and distant. The city felt like a beast, ready to swallow me whole.I made my way to the address Rabbi’s friend had given me—a modest two-bedroom apartment in a slightly noisy part of town. Still, it felt like a palace compared to the chaos outside. Sajjad, Rabbi’s friend, greeted me at the door. He was a tall man with sharp features and an air of confidence. After some small talk, I finally laid my cards on the table.“Mr. Sajjad, I need your help,” I began hesitantly. “I’m in a bit of a situation…”Sajjad listened intently as I unraveled my story, his brow furrowing deeper with every word.“Well, that’s quite a lie, Ashique,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why doesn’t your father report Salam to the police? His actions are illegal.”I shook my head. “Salam is the police. Or at least, he’s got them in his pocket.”Sajjad sighed. “I see. But tell me, how long do you think you can keep this charade up?”“A year, maybe,” I replied, though even I didn’t believe it. “That’s why I need a job—any job. I’ll work during the day and prepare for the BCS exam at night. I just need to earn enough to pay off Salam and keep my family safe.”Sajjad’s expression softened, but I could sense his reluctance. “I’ll do what I can,” he said.The next few days were a blur of rejections and disappointments. Sajjad helped me line up interviews, but it quickly became clear that Dhaka was no land of opportunity—not for someone like me. The higher-level positions were reserved for the well-connected, while even the most menial jobs came with a price tag. One interviewer openly demanded a bribe of 100,000 taka. I wanted to scream, “If I had that kind of money, why would I even need a job?”Desperation drove me to humiliating lengths. At one office, I fell to my knees, begging the manager to hire me—even as a janitor. But he dismissed me without a second glance. Sajjad, though polite, was visibly growing tired of me. I could tell he didn’t want me around for much longer.Each night, I stared at the cracked ceiling of Sajjad’s apartment, torn between two unbearable thoughts: returning home empty-handed or staying in this city and failing again. Either way, the outcome was the same—my family would lose everything.It was late evening, and I found myself wandering the crowded streets of Dhaka aimlessly. Exhaustion clung to my body like a second skin, but my mind wouldn’t let me stop. Somewhere in this sprawling city, there had to be a way out of this mess.I stumbled upon a narrow alley lit by neon lights flickering on and off, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The sound of muffled music drifted toward me, loud and chaotic. I followed it, thinking maybe I’d stumbled upon one of those open-air music nights we used to have back in the village during Eid festivals.The noise led me to the entrance of a small, run-down club. A bouncer at the door gave me a quick once-over but let me in, probably assuming I belonged to the crowd. The place was packed with men in flashy clothes and thick gold chains. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke and an underlying tension that set my nerves on edge.I tried to blend in, keeping my head down as I walked to a makeshift tea stall in the corner.“Ek cup cha,” I said, my voice barely audible over the music.The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow but poured me a steaming cup of tea. I clutched it with both hands, hoping the warmth would calm the tremors in my fingers. But just as I took my first sip, someone bumped into me, spilling the scalding liquid onto my pants.“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” I snapped, more out of reflex than courage.The man—a burly figure with a thick beard and cold, calculating eyes—turned to me with a sneer. “What did you just say?”Before I could answer, he grabbed my collar and yanked me forward.
In a fit of panic, I reached for his bracelet—a chunky metal piece on his wrist—and tore it off, flinging it to the ground. The moment it hit the floor, the room seemed to freeze. Every pair of eyes in the club turned toward us.6.

The man let go of my collar and stepped back, his face twisting into something between fury and disbelief.“You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?” he hissed.Suddenly, I was surrounded. Men emerged from every corner of the club, forming a tight circle around me. Each of them wore the same bracelet. My stomach sank as I realized this wasn’t some random gathering of rowdy partygoers—this was a gang.“Who are you?” one of them demanded, his voice sharp and menacing.“I—I’m Ashique,” I stammered.“Who sent you?” another voice barked.“No one! I swear, I didn’t know—”“Liar,” someone growled.A cold, metallic sensation pressed against the back of my head. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was a gun. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand.“Whom do you belong to?” the man behind me asked, his tone eerily calm.“I—I don’t understand,” I stuttered.“Answer the question,” he said, shoving the barrel of the gun harder against my skull.“I belong to no one!” I shouted, panic overtaking my reason.The group erupted in laughter. But the man behind me wasn’t laughing.“Shoot him,” someone said. “He’s a spy.”The gunman began to count.“Ten…”“I’m not a spy!” I cried, my voice cracking. “I’m just a villager—I don’t even know what street I’m on!”“Nine…”“I was looking for work! That’s all!”“Eight…”“Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone about this place!”“Seven…”The countdown blurred in my ears as panic gripped me. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but there was none. Was this how it would end? Not in my village, surrounded by the people I loved, but here, in the middle of Dhaka, in a seedy club surrounded by strangers?When the man reached “three,” my instincts took over. With every ounce of strength I had left, I kicked backward, hitting his knee. He stumbled, and the gun went off.The deafening crack of the shot echoed in the club. For a moment, I thought I’d been hit. But the gunman collapsed to the floor, clutching his leg.The bullet hadn’t hit me—it had hit another man. One of the gang members lay writhing on the ground, blood streaming from his shoulder. The room descended into chaos.“You idiot!” someone shouted at the gunman. “You shot Jamil!”Before they could regroup, I bolted for the door. My legs felt like jelly, but fear propelled me forward. I didn’t stop running, not even when my lungs burned and my vision blurred. I ran until I reached Sajjad’s apartment, slamming the door behind me and collapsing on the floor.Sajjad slammed the door shut in my face.“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, Ashique!” he yelled from inside. “You should’ve told me what kind of trouble you’d bring before you stepped into my apartment!”I stood there, frozen, with my backpack slung over one shoulder. His words cut deeper than I expected. Sajjad had been my last hope in this unforgiving city. Now I had nowhere to go.As I stumbled through the dimly lit streets, my thoughts raced. Kamal would kill me—I was certain of it. His brother Jamil was dead because of me, even if it wasn’t intentional. People like Kamal didn’t forgive or forget.By the time I reached the club, I was trembling. The neon lights flickered ominously, casting distorted shadows across the pavement. I felt like a lamb walking into a lion’s den.Kamal sat in the same chair as before, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he seemed amused. That unnerved me even more.“So, the village boy came back,” Kamal said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”I clenched my fists. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I don’t have anything left to lose.”To my surprise, Kamal burst out laughing. “Kill you? Why would I do that?”I stared at him, confused. “Your brother—Jamil. He’s dead because of me.”Kamal’s expression shifted slightly, but not in the way I expected. He leaned back in his chair, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “You think I cared about Jamil? That idiot? He was my half-brother, and I couldn’t stand him. Honestly, you did me a favor.”My jaw dropped. “You… don’t care?”“Not one bit,” Kamal said with a smirk. “But here’s the thing, kid: I like you. You’ve got fire, and you’re desperate. Desperate people are useful.”He pulled a small, brown package from under the table and placed it in front of me. “I’ve got a job for you. Take this package to the address written on it. Deliver it personally. No questions, no delays.”I eyed the package nervously. “What’s inside?”Kamal’s smirk widened. “Didn’t I say no questions? Trust me, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”“I’m not—”“Before you say no,” Kamal interrupted, leaning forward, “let me sweeten the deal. You deliver this package, and I’ll pay you ten lakh taka.”My heart skipped a beat. Ten lakh? That was enough to pay off Salam’s debt and then some. My family wouldn’t lose our house, and maybe, just maybe, I could start over.Kamal must’ve seen the hesitation in my eyes because he chuckled. “Look, kid, you can walk out of here and go back to your miserable little life. But we both know you don’t have any other options. This is your chance to be somebody—to survive.”I swallowed hard. The weight of the decision pressed down on me like a boulder.“Fine,” I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”Kamal grinned and patted my shoulder. “Smart choice. Deliver it by tomorrow evening. And remember—no questions.”As I left the club, the package tucked under my arm, a strange mix of relief and dread washed over me. I’d made a deal with the devil, but at least my family’s future was secure.Or so I thought.