It was a month before Protest Movement, where the declaration of Language turned into a deadly consequence. It was the time, when the former Prime Minister of UK, Winston Churchill visited the United States, 'The Greatest Show On Earth', have been premiered and Korean War was about to get a ceasefire.

In the smaller corner of the world, yet, Bangladesh was about to make its first row in the history. By that circumstance, we all must be aware of the Liberation War, connected to the 1971. The man was dragged to his small home, where his impregnated wife, serving him with hot water and rubbing his mud and blood from his forehead. By those four men, they laid him into the table. Back then, Bangladesh was called East Pakistan. When the Partition happened in the 1947, during the Second World War, that Language boundary had built-up to no good.

The beard and the way he dressed was of Fidel Castro, such as the dark military-like shirt, with a baggy pant, who laid down, closing his eyes. The flies were surrounding around him, due to the excessive mud around his body. The injured toe was more of a stale wound, than Sohail's first state, due to the clay that covered all of its things.

His pregnant wife, along with his child at the age of ten, were standing, concerned in front of him. It was more of an anticipation, waiting for him to open his eyes, despite breathing with his fullest, as a wounded person do. He slowly was waking up, looking at a grandfather clock, a calendar and a wardrobe. Jawad recognized a familiar face, which gave him shock to see the younger version of Sohail, as the wife was quite tall. She wore a thick sari, as the hair tied bowl at the back. She looked naturally beautiful, where no makeup was needed. It was more that was seen in the pictures that had been stored in Jawad's and Sohail's room.

The grandfather clock was quite the first time for Jawad to see it, as to the contrast, the board was the third time, where it showed a family tree. It wasn't mentioned earlier in the story, just to notice the basics of the time-jump, as mentioned by Uncle Haleem and Gyankosh in the 1980s.

"Grandma Sayeeda?" he had his mouth wide open. Jawad recognized his grandmother immediately for her beauty, also the younger Sohail for his twinkling eyes, with the square framed spectacles.

Sayeeda smiled, after the tears of joy burst out from her eye.

"Mamun, are you looking at me or the grandfather clock?" she giggled, Jawad.

Mamun looked surprised with the beautiful smile that he was mesmerized by. He was reminded, as spoken by his mother in 1999, was a little bit vague. But keep in mind, the time had been ticking, as everyone and everything have their own perspectives and principles of their own story. Mamun was once a son of a business lady millionaire, Shehtaj Kabir. He had a worst habit of spending the expenses into the extreme. He used to even party out with friends, with a huge sum of money, without even thinking of calculating it more than twice.

After he graduated from Oxford, his return caused his limitation towards the discrimination of religion, language and the lack of openness in the other side of the country. Nevertheless, he almost faded his Bangladeshi language, but the mother encouraged him to speak it. Little did he knew, the extreme way of spending money, led to his mother's disappearance. But, also the fact, that his property was taken by the opposition country's authorities. Until, he met his wife, Syeeda from school, who happened to study in Dhaka University in the Economics Department. At the same time, she was also a social activist, who screamed at the discrimination against religion, because a lot of people were tortured killed in the concentration camp, which was quite similar to the criminal mental asylum, with chairs and a lot of silver wired thorns in the holder, along with the people who got into a lot of shock therapy to get on to the truth.

Speaking of it, there was a supernatural incident, regarding Jawad's case, we will get back to it later, after the mention of the original timeline.

Since, Mamun could not find his mother, he had to join hands with Sayeeda to protest against the social odds that were happening in the country. Until, the 21st February 1952, Mamun was killed while taking the initiative.

It was 1994, Jawad, on the other hand was reminded of the supernatural incident. His home was quite haunted, as it was previously known for the torture camp, implanted by the opposition. During midnight, he was about to go to sleep. The window was open, when he saw a ghostly lady with the white sari who walking through her neighboring building's rooftop, but all of a sudden, he saw a soldier like shadow, who tortured her with a whip. Until, Jawad looked close towards the open window, as the level of a binocular, both strangely looked at him and the cackling uproar laugh, haven't scared him. Instead of being petrified, the spirits vanished.

Back to 1952, the grandfather clock was still ticking round. It was 12 at noon. Sayeeda took out the bucket with warm water inside it. The smoke was coming out from the surface, which made it quite strange to the world that he just jumped from. His arthritis problem increased a bit, due to the accident that he strangled upon.

"Hey, have some hot water. I think, you would be okay" offered Sayeeda.

Sohail smiled at his father, while Mamun looked at him as a variation of himself. The smile was genuine. A lot of things happened at the same time, traumatized the individual but controlled because it was time jump. Jawad's suicide attempt, Sohail's justice and now, this time jump. Was there any connection with Salam Ul Karim with Mamun? Or who would be the other person to go upon the time jump? How the wife was impregnated? How Sohail did came into being? What role did Sohail play in that scene?

For Jawad, things were not adding up from not only his father's side of the story, but also his mother's. It was probably, as if the history was recorded mildly, while the deeper side was burnt by the authorities or the people who were triggered by it. History was not the record of the past, but also a recounts the mistakes with the present and the future. History turns legacy, legacy turns myth.

Sayeeda and Sohail pulled Mamun and showered him by changing his rotten clothes, full of cow poop and mud. They pour the bucket of hot water that almost led to hypothermia. The delight did reminded of how Sabeda poured the bucket of water on Sohail. The blood has become dry scars.

As soon as Mamun changed his cloths from Fidel Castro's shirt, to a regular, sleeveless, undergarment, as in the bottoms, he wore a long Arab-styled loin cloth.

Suddenly, someone knocked the door. The concerned Sayeeda heard the sound of the cackling wood. She got near it. It almost petrified the young Sohail and the fatherly Mamun. In that circumstance, the knock was gentle but rushed, than the soldiers who just knock harder than the rest.

"Who's this?" asked Sayeeda

"This is Rehman" said the man, whose youthful voice calmed both Mamun and Sohail.

"How could I be so sure? Anyway, what do you love the most?"

"A khichdi, with delicious vegetables and a fried hilsha fish curry"

She opened the door. A man with a combed hair, wearing a white kurta and a loin-cloth. Furthermore, he was holding an umbrella, due to storms and heavy rain. He put his muddy shoes off to the doorstep and entered with a clean foot. The innocent looking fellow, just smirked at the confident Sayeeda, who was not only a badass but also the bravest soul ever to give life for the country.

Mamun immediately recognized Rehman as a familiar face, which was quite heartwarming, especially for someone like Jawad and Sohail.

"Haleem Rehman, you are here, right on time" said the wounded, overjoyed Mamun, who was crippling down with the walking stick. The fresh, white loin cloth was brightening his mood. The sofas from the old living room were so comfortable that they sat down in a cozy way. But the young Haleem looked quite upset due to an ominous incident, happening outside the house.

"What's wrong? You look so off?" asked Sayeeda.

"My dear sister-in-law, since, brother's accident, I was supposed to go to the Dhaka University just for the classes. Until, in the road, when I was about to pass the road, I was asking directions in Bengali, but one of the soldiers heard and shoved me in such a way that I almost got slipped in the mud. When they have heard that I am a Muslim, they spared me, otherwise, they could have cut off my dick!" said the angered Haleem.

"Dear brother, I wish I would have been aware of the curfew. I was injured, since, how many days?" asked Mamun.

"A week" answered Haleem and Sayeeda.

"This curfew is actually pissing us off! We can learn language, but we cannot force Language as a religion. Since the Partition, that shit is happening a lot. The political dominance is the word to the extreme! Why the hell that the language became so important to the religion? Even in every religious texts, it wasn't written like that! Yet, we something called former Sanskrit and Peso-Arabic language, while the English and the Germans had Anglo-Saxon. Does it make a difference? No! The only difference is, they made the words look worse than ever!" stated Mamun.