At the end of twilight

'Not all poems always have rhythm. Some poems are unnecessarily rhythmic. There is a deep meaning or sense of life hidden in these rhythmless poems. We sometimes fail to find that meaning. So sometimes trying to find this money seems pointless to us. Our short life may be a poem.

Sometimes rhythmic and sometimes rhythmless. The rhythmless parts have no joy, only a rough sense of life. Although life is based on both acceptance and adaptation, we cannot accept the reality of bitter taste. This is how our poems are written in the world. Maybe that's how we live.

' After a long time, I wrote a status again. Lately though the thought comes less. Even then, when it comes, it is absolutely overflowing. Anyway, it seems that even in this status, I will eat the boundless rot of the monkey friends who are lying in wait. I didn't eat or digest, but the important thing is hunger. It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon but there is no disorder in the house. In the kitchen, a lady with half-grown hair is standing anxiously holding the window grill.

How he still works with that body that has become heavier with age is an unknown mystery. However, this secret is known to all mothers of the world. The rice fan is overflowing in the oven. But my mother has no eye on that. He knows what he is looking at through the window! Amma has often become anxious lately. It seems that his interest has risen from all the objects in the world. Occasionally very curious to know what he is actually thinking! Well, my mother is tired of life sometimes! Of course I never wanted to know. Amma may also be thinking deeply about the days left behind, old happy memories or lost dreams.

All his stories of losing or wanting to get may not be written in the form of stories or status! These thoughts remain in the mind in an invisible chain. Just like domesticated pigeons. The feathers are allowed to fly short so that they cannot fly too much and return home. Very bitter but true, neither I nor we keep that news. All mothers in the world are the same.

Soft as a candle. Go with our light regularly as it melts. If it is not dark, we do not feel their presence or feel the need to feel it. "Mom! The rice fan is overflowing!" Saying this, the elder sister rushed and switched off the stove. By this time Amma seemed to have regained consciousness. Apu forcibly sent Amma home. Apu easily understood Amma's state of mind.

After Amma left, Apu turned around. I quickly say, 'I don't know anything'. Apu went to her house without paying any attention to my words. Aputar has become very emotional lately. Everything shows anger! How naughty he used to be, he used to caress! And now he doesn't even come near my room.

Again, I don't care if I turn around. In my anger he wanted to pull out all the hair on his head. Hearing my father's throat growl, I came back to myself. This is the signal to sort the lunch table. Apu arranges food on the table. We all eat quietly.

Our quiet eating habits are of late. In the past, my sister and I used to have a big quarrel at the dinner table about eating chicken run. And seeing our heated quarrel, my father used to say every time, 'Well, this time share and eat. I will bring four-legged chickens from the front. ' Hearing this, our two siblings would smile and we would share and eat. Ah! What was all day! After eating, everyone goes to rest in their room.

I also necessarily come and sit in the room. I and my mother and sister used to hang out together on the roof in the afternoon. Now those golden past. Amma is bent down a lot now. Can't stand the stress like before, so take a nap and rest in the afternoon. Apu closes the door of the room and listens to music or presses the mobile. I walk alone on the roof now. I had another companion to tell stories in the afternoon. He used to come to the roof of the house next door from time to time.