Madam Te·dil reached the school early in the morning. It was the 30th of November, and the cold could clearly be felt in the air. Since the school stood in a river valley, the whole area was covered with thick fog. All the necessary items had been bought the previous day. The only thing left was the meat, which Master Orton had taken responsibility for. He had assured everyone that it could easily be purchased early in the morning, so there was no need to worry. Indeed, it was probably being bought at that very moment.
Madam Te·dil began bringing out the cartons kept in the school office. She placed her hands on her waist and stared at the items, wondering whether they would be enough or not. Just then a student arrived and began helping her.
‘Oh, Johen, it’s good that you’ve come,’ said Madam. ‘Where’s the handcart you promised to bring?’
‘My friends will bring it, Madam,’ Johen answered.
Soon the students began arriving one after another—Rimbe, Sanita, Te·rikrak, Raksan, Gamseng, Ronita… They were Class 10 students and had arrived earlier than the others.
‘Madam, what items are in this carton?’ asked Raksan.
‘They’re all water bottles,’ Madam replied. ‘I didn’t tell anyone to buy them. I don’t like drinking bottled water. Why should I drink water with a strange smell when we have our own natural, tasty water? I prefer Simsang water. I’d rather drink it with my own palms. You all may drink the bottled water if you like.’
‘No, Madam! We’ll also drink Simsang water,’ the girls replied together.
Meanwhile, some of the teachers arrived. It was said that a few of them had already gone ahead to the spot. The instruction had been given that all students must first gather at the school before leaving together. Soon the school compound was full of students moving around busily like a swarm of bees.
The noise grew louder and louder. As if that were not enough, the loudspeaker began playing songs. Soon it became difficult to hear anything.
‘Where’s the handcart? Time is running out!’ Madam Te·dil announced through the microphone, her voice mixing with the song from the loudspeaker.
‘It has arrived, Madam!’ the boys shouted.
The boys quickly loaded the packages onto the handcart and tied the loudspeaker to the front of it.
‘If you play the loudspeaker like this while going, will the battery last the whole day?’ Madam asked.
‘We have two batteries!’ the children shouted in unison.
This story is inspired by Riprap’s iconic song Kattachide Tona Amja (It Cannot Be Measured in Words). The writer is a devoted fan and has also published several other short stories based on Riprap’s songs.
All characters and events appearing in the stories of this publication are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or real persons, living or dead, could be purely coincidental
Permission for this story has been kindly granted by Dada Browny, the lead vocalist of Riprap.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced with any means without the prior permission. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for the damages.
Pubblished by Garrow Mandai
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By the time they reached the spot, everyone noticed that the place chosen by the teachers was excellent. Other groups had also come there. To get a good place, one had to claim it the previous evening, or at least arrive very early in the morning. Master Orton had taken care of all those arrangements, so the children could begin their tasks with ease.
The first task of the boys, of course, was to play music. They tied the loudspeaker high up on an easily climbable sal tree. Soon their music echoed far and wide, while the songs from other groups could only be heard faintly in the distance—dip… dip…
The girls fetched water from Simsang. They cleaned the rice and began cooking. The boys prepared the meat together with their teachers.
Everyone’s face was full of joy. Even the strictest teachers were giggling that day. The children took advantage of the cheerful mood and began playing football with their teachers.
And Madam Te·dil—yes, she was from the north. She usually spoke softly, her tone long and gentle. But today, her voice was more relaxed, her words lingering longer than usual.
‘Perhaps the song Oh Northern Girl, When I First Saw You was sung for Madam Te·dil,’ Johen said. “I admire her eyes—framed by long, naturally styled lashes. Such eyes suit her, showing she truly belongs to the north.’
Several other short stories inspired by Riprap’s songs have also been published.
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‘Look at this fellow! He’s eve-teasing his own teacher!’ his friends laughed.
It was true that Madam herself had become the center of attention that day. On normal days she wore a dakmanda or a long kurti that reached her feet, and everyone was used to seeing her that way. But today she wore blue jeans and wrapped a plain gana cloth around her upper body. She looked quite different—one might even say gorgeous.
Madam could hear their conversation despite the loudspeaker. But she ignored it. Let the children talk whatever they wanted today. After all, today was a day for enjoyment, not punishment.
‘Raksan, Gamseng, bring the rice pot here. Rimbe, Sanita, Te·rikrak, Ronita—pack this cooked rice in banana leaves,’ she said with a smile, pretending she had heard nothing.
Half the day had passed. Several dishes had already been prepared, and plenty of rice had been cooked. Madam spread a mat on the sand and began crushing cabbage for salad together with the girls.
Just then Master Orton appeared with a friend and pointed toward Madam.
‘That’s Madam Te·dil.’
Madam, with a scarf bearing the USA flag wrapped around her head, looked up. She had been working under the sun and had to squint her eyes slightly to see them clearly.
The man was fair and tall. His blue jeans were folded up to his calves. He had left his shoes on a rock and stood barefoot. Invited by Master Orton, he had come to join the children.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Madam said calmly. ‘But remember, this is the children’s gathering. Drinking is not allowed.’
Orton’s friend, slightly confused, forgot to let go of Madam’s hand even after shaking it.
‘She’s just joking,’ Master Orton said, trying to ease the moment. ‘That’s how people from the north joke. Anyone hearing it for the first time might take it seriously—why trouble him, Madam?’
At this, Madam simply grinned.
As soon as they left, the girls began chatting and giggling among themselves.
‘What?… What are you saying?… Why are you all laughing?’ Madam fired questions at them.
‘Nothing, Madam,’ the girls replied. ‘We were just saying that Sir Orton’s friend is a perfect match for you.’
‘Hud!’ Madam didn’t quite know how to react, her smile caught somewhere in between.
Just then, the lyrics of the song playing on the loudspeaker floated through the air—
It cannot be measured in words
The love that lives in my heart
It cannot be shown through deeds
Unless I am dying for you
But still I am saying it now
That I truly love you
Nothing more than this—but I love you.
‘Madam, this is your song!’ the girls shouted in unison.
Madam tried to stare at them sternly, but this was not the classroom. The girls only laughed louder.
‘This is Riprap’s new song… When was it released? How did I miss it? I haven’t bought this cassette yet. Is it available in Simsanggre? Where did these children get it from? They’ve been playing songs all day, but this one hadn’t come on before… Who brought it? Orton’s friend?’
But the children, once they discovered something new, would take it as far as they could.
Right from the very beginning till now
My love for you has never changed
Deep in my heart, it always stays the same
I don’t know how much I love you.
To the earth, to the moon and all the stars above
I tell my love to them as well
Holding your hand, looking up into the sky
I promise I truly love you.
The girls burst into laughter, clapping after listening closely to every line of the song. Their giggles rang out so loudly that even the smooth, tiny pebbles of Simsang went deaf to everything else. Other groups turned to look. Madam Te·dil tried to remain stern, but the corner of her lips betrayed her.
As the song echoed across the pale sands of Simsang, the girls clapped joyfully to the rhythm. They were not yet familiar with all the verses, but they quickly picked up the chorus and sang together whenever it returned:
It cannot be measured in words
The love that lives in my heart
It cannot be shown through deeds
Unless I am dying for you
But still I am saying it now
That I truly love you
Nothing more than this—but I love you.
‘Isn’t the song wonderful?’ Madam asked. ‘You like Riprap’s song, don’t you?’
‘Madam, you like Master Orton’s friend too, don’t you?’ the children teased in chorus.
‘Today is your day,’ Madam said quietly. ‘Inside the classroom… it will be mine.’
The children burst into laughter, showing their thumbs down playfully.
It cannot be measured in words
The love that lives in my heart
It cannot be shown through deeds
Unless I am dying for you
But still I am saying it now
That I truly love you
Nothing more than this—but I love you.
Right from the very beginning till now
My love for you has never changed
Deep in my heart, it always stays the same
I don’t know how much I love you.
To the earth, to the moon and all the stars above
I tell my love to them as well
Holding your hand, looking up into the sky
I promise I truly love you.
The boys rewound the cassette again and again. With every repetition, more listeners began to remember the song. Master Orton’s friend ignored the strain on the cassette reel, secretly feeling proud that the children loved his cassette so much.
The song blended with the flow of Simsang, as if the current itself carried it away—beyond the hills, beyond the borders… all the way to Bangladesh. Even if Browny himself had stood among them, his voice would have turned hoarse trying to match their endless chorus.
As evening approached, everyone sat down for the meal. Yet even then, Browny was given no rest that day.
It cannot be measured in words…
The children glanced at Master Orton’s friend as they ate, smiling mischievously.
But Madam Te·dil kept them in line—with a long, firm look.
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