'Kishor of below house' my heart had been depressed and stunned with this incomplete sentence of brother before the telephone ring and without I have time to speak. 'What trouble has occurred to him?' to answer my question brother spoke without taking a breath 'he died', brother did not complete his sentence and my heart though stopped still. 'What happened?' I asked but my brother did not give any reply about my curiosity and he put down the phone receiver instantly.
I remember, in the past while going to sow maize grain seed on a terraced field to grow crops after being finished the grain seed, mother had asked for the help of Kishor. He was an energetic and a handsome young man. He was famous at the village and everyone would respect him. Now, still I'm recalling that how he had managed to bring the maize-grain seed for mother within thirty-five minutes that normally takes two hours, from the district headquarters' village.
The past events are giving pain like dream. 'I got married the last month. I couldn't invite you.' In one Saturday morning on the month of July, he had come at our house bringing his wife.
"Why he died?" The last year in the month of March, they had come to visit my mother. 'I believe I can raise my children with my salary, can't I, mother?' He had talked with mother with the same cheerful manner. 'When we were born we came with empty hands and we will go with the same empty hands. Therefore, it is not good to die for wealth.' His wife added to the satisfaction in that evening. 'The short life is to laugh only'; I also added talk on the talk.
What was the fault of Kishor? Neither his salary was enough for living nor he could send his children to a good school. I put cross-question to myself but I don't have the answer because there is no one who understands the value of the death of him.
The number-one humorous and helpful Kishor at the village, the beloved Kishor who would treat equally to the poor or rich and big or small. No one could be satisfied without coming at his house to talk every day from children to the bedridden old ones.
'It is harmful to become sad recalling the past incidents, therefore we should live cheerfully in this short life.' My friend Jyoti , who had come to meet me after a long time, began to convince me. Jyoti was trying to wipe away the tears and remove my pain. 'If you can send some money to his wife for their children's education that would be the real tribute to Kishor.' Jyoti began to convince me in a sentimental way.
It is already darkened to night and the morning would be only a hope. Today, I'm analyzing the difference between living in a happy moment and in a sad moment. This moment, happiness has disappeared on the face of me. The picture of Kishor and his wife taken on the day of my departure is hung on the wall in the room.
Now, my eyes have stilled on the picture.