After birth, children, teenagers, young people, then the elderly, this continuity is equally acceptable to everyone in the world. Samarbabu has gone through all the steps and is now seventy years old. What he feared and wanted to do for him, he thinks, to really do in his life. Done, or actually happened. At this point in his life, he first realized what a real urgent need was.

Criticizing the child is useless. Because the child will sometimes cry, sometimes laugh, play, like everyone else, will do everything. So Samarbabu heard from his mother, father, he had been stubborn since the time he learned to walk, any doll, book, pencil, or any food item, he had to give it once he wanted. Otherwise, he would have made everyone's head hurt by crying.

And as a teenager, he was so stubborn that he didn't care about his parents. He used to be polite and courteous in front of his neighbors. He used to start quarreling while playing. And the teachers never did their homework properly. He felt that it would be better if he did not go to school. And even when he went to school, there would be fights while playing at tiffin time, and from these incidents, other parents would complain about his misbehavior. And Samarbabu's youth is absolutely turbulent, naughty, reckless, like the surging waves of the sea. It's better if you can scratch everyone. Even if such a title comes in his life, he does not give importance to it. Then the football, cricket, Hadudu, swimming, wrestling, fighting, and stubbornness were involved in his life in such a purposeless way that he somehow passed the secondary. Luckily for him, his father was an employee, and his mother was affectionate, and Samarbabu was capricious, doing whatever he liked. Although the boy did not do any work, the father and mother tried to marry him, but Samarbabu did not agree, so they did not pair up. The father used to be afraid of his son for a while. If he scolded or ruled too much, or said too much about living, studying, if he ran away from home, or had an accident, or misbehaved with his mother or father, all these fears were there. To put it more, his wife meant it would have been difficult to handle Samarbabu's mother. So he kept quiet. You know there is nothing to do at this age. Then Samarbabu had a quality. He never told his father he wanted his money, did business or learn some technical skills, or bought a motorbike, all of which he had no interest in. Yes, two sets of blue jeans, three or four nice cotton flower sleeve shirts, and shoes, goggles in the eyes, a watch in hand, and a bicycle, all these he got from his father. You have to look at him when you walk down the street with a long pale face, a wide belt around your waist. Then there was never cigarette, bidi, alcohol or any other intoxication or abuse of girls. Gossip, stories, rumors, everything was going on in the neighborhood rock, but I was not in the habit of buying anything outside the shop. If someone ever offered tea, of course he would not say no. But he used to say straight away, I don't have a penny in my pocket, so I can't feed anyone. Mother sometimes hid and paid, but did not want to take it. Sometimes he used to take his mother in a loving manner. Then there was no habit of spending in vain. Time goes by like time. His day also passed. But the rhythm has slowed down a bit, because both father and mother have died. A portion of my father's pension money, and all the money my father had deposited, and the house, are all there. Then his father's death was over fifty years old. After two years, my father died and my mother died. There was no contact with any relatives. Because they are all far away. But there was sincerity in the way he would extend a helping hand in any way he could to the neighbors, no matter what the problem was. Samarbabu lives on the fourth floor, his neighbors on the other three floors. He always had his own strategy of dealing with them. He would never say such a thing to anyone so as not to offend him. But Samarbabu's youth is no more. Now that time has passed, he is depressed in his old age. How much has changed in his neighbors. His mother, like his father, is no longer alive as some of the elderly. Those who are the same age as Samarbabu are also old now. Again those who were younger are now young women. Life is like this. But he was a little too worried that day. Because life alone. Not exactly what happens when. Yet he keeps telling neighbors. Sometimes he knocks on her door. Needless to say, maybe you will breathe your last in the room. Then no one will know, it will be too late when you know. The corpses will no longer be fresh. However, with the help of Somen and Du, a neighbor, Samarbabu survived the journey. Seeing Somen still reminds me of his youth. Lying in a hospital bed, Samarbabu realized today that one to two, growing up, building a beautiful relationship from one country to another, a strong bond of mutual cooperation, awakens a sense of humanity, so how important it is to build a relationship with one's neighbor. The Lord of that awakened human feeling in this moment, his living God. Thinking about all this, he was barely climbing the stairs to the second floor. Then he turned his head and fell down the stairs. Somen lives on the second floor. Now studying in college. As soon as he left the house, seeing Samarbabu in that condition, he shouted at everyone, immediately with two more, one of them, went out, called an ambulance, absolutely to the hospital. Samarbabu's head is injured. His hands, legs, back, are torn. A lot of blood came out. Yet fortunately the bones of his body were not broken. When he died, everything went wrong, but there was more danger if he became a paralyzed person and went to bed. If u want to read in bengali plz click in this link https://shortestory.wordpress.com/ Short story #shortstories #writersofinstagram #shortstory #bookstagram #writing #poetry #writer #love #stories #writingcommunity #writerscommunity #books #fiction #writers #reading #story #author #poem #writersofig #poetrycommunity #poems #literature #booklover #creativewriting #authorsofinstagram #book #wordporn #storytelling #quotes #bhfyp