Once upon a time, Chittapriya had to raise his face. The woman is looking out the window. However, in the darkness of so many nights, nothing outside is supposed to catch the eye. Still staring. The blue fringe of the white sari has become a veil from a little above the forehead. The face is not visible, but it is understood that youth has passed for a long time. Nowadays many women are able to go out relying on these travel companies. This is also the team. Looking at the nose and hands, it is understood that the color of the skin was once very bright. Chittapriya's wife was not healthy, but very fair. Daughter Ananya got her mother's color. What kind of relationship he had with his wife is still not clear to Chittapriya. Never disrespected, never neglected duty, served in bed, but discovered that his memory was turning gray after he died. I don't even remember that much now. He did not feel any of the tension of love in his book towards his wife. On the contrary, he has not been attracted to a second woman since his marriage. Till now the two words came to mind and he laughed heartily. Reaching this sixty, which woman will he be attracted to? For those who look normal, they are over fifty. And after fifty, the minds of Bengali girls are not at all eager to accept the love of a new man. I don't know if the desire comes, but to keep it under control and become silent like Chaitra's noon.
The lady turned away. Then he raised both hands and tried to lower the window glass. Kulochilo his strength. Chittapriya could no longer remain indifferent. Said, ‘I see, you move a little’.
The lady looked up. Rupoli stains on front hair, facial skin is still tight despite age. Two eyes inside the glasses. Chittapriya stopped. An earthquake shook his head. Such a crooked neck and big eyes, can not be. People's appearance changes. The posture too. Time swallows everything nice. His own twenty-year-old look has little in common with the present. This is not unusual at all. The recklessness of uniting two people just by looking at them.
Chittapriya used a lot of force and closed the window and returned to his seat. He came and saw that the lady was looking at him in the same way. This time he felt uncomfortable. He was slim, it is better to say thin. He loved to wear yellow sari and yellow dress. Curly hair used to fall down to the knees like a shower. He did not intentionally imprison her. And looking at that face, it seemed that there was an alternative to the holy word. It has nothing in common with him except Chahanituku.
Chittapriya turned away. It is not in his nature to talk too much. The woman also leaned back and closed her eyes. Chittapriya did not try to read books anymore. After many, many days, that discomfort came back to his mind today. Looking back, many years have passed and the number is not at all comfortable. But what is true is true forever.
He lived in Jamshedpur then. My father worked for Tata Company. He has just graduated from the quarters of Kulsi Road. At that time there were less people in Sakchi, everyone knew everyone. Chittapriya used to play good cricket while in school, he also got a name. I used to spend my winter holidays in Sakchi's field. There was a match that day. He was batting. When he got a fultus and turned around, he screamed. The ball fell on the head of the girl standing in front of the house on the other side of the field. She is sitting with her head in her hands, wearing a chocolate colored sari, aged seventeen or eighteen. Chittapriya also went to run away. The gap between the girl's fair fingers was melting and beautiful red blood was coming out. Everyone grabbed the girl and took her away. The girl's mother started screaming and arguing. The joy of Ober Boundary was erased, he felt guilty. Dr. L. The injury was not serious but had to be stitched. Chittapriya did not play that day.
The girl, whose name is Sarma, had a conversation with him one day. Love from talk. There were still small white spots peeking out of Sarma's hair. Walking in Jubilee Park, Sarma said, ‘You’ve been in my head all my life’.
It was a time of great happiness. Happiness and fear. Hiding and stealing two days a week, meeting for a while and thinking day and night. Then inevitably that day came. Sarma lamented that her father had arranged the marriage, but she would commit suicide but would not marry anyone else. Now everything is in the hands of Chittapriya. Whatever he wants will happen. Chittapriya forgot to eat and drink. He needs a job to save Sarma. But who will give him a job? What kind of job can a young person in college do? There is no question of asking parents for help, because they will not indulge. Friends advised Sarma to go somewhere else. There try to get a job by character. And that place should be Kolkata. So no one in the crowd will be able to find them. All of them raised donations and raised thousands of rupees. With that money in hand, Chittapriya felt that the world had come into his hands. He made the offer to Sarma. By train from Jamshedpur to Kolkata. Find a job in a normal hotel and it will definitely be available. Sarma said, ‘If not available?’ He said, ‘Must be available. If you don't take this risk, I will never find you. Can't you trust me? '
‘Of course I do. And if you don't get a job, there is no harm, somehow something will go wrong. I don't mind being in the slum with you. ‘Just what?’
‘How do we go together without being husband and wife?’
The matter was not in my mind. He was worried, really, when will he marry Sarma? What does it do? Then he noticed. He said, ‘As soon as we reach Calcutta, we will go to the temple at Kalighat.
