Content: This story is about a helpless father who lost his only son prematurely forever. How much we understand God's judgment!
Salta is probably 2005. I was then working in the technical sales department of a reputed multinational company. New job. In terms of experience, I am very new. The early days of one's career can never be forgotten. There is no telling how many different situations he had to face while trying to harden the ground under his feet. There is a lot going on in the sales job. And the company deliberately often sends new boys to work in the farthest and most remote places in order to keep track of the exact number of races. There is no denying that the matter is difficult at first, but the vast amount of knowledge and experience that can be accumulated about different types of people, their diverse lifestyles and, above all, the folklore of the region is outstanding. The habit of complaining is less with me. Despite thousands of difficulties, I have always enjoyed traveling and meeting new people. The time I was talking about was winter. The name of the place is Kasna. It is a rugged countryside in Uttar Pradesh. Institutions in the industrial belt, especially in the industrial belt, are created at a considerable distance from the human habitation area for a good reason. I was sent there due to some technical problems in the application line. It's a matter of four days. First it is my job to go to the department and find a solution to the problem and try that solution in front of the customer and report it to the head office with proof of his satisfaction.
The company arranged for me to stay at a local guest house. The guest house is adjacent to the factory. The area where the residents live is quite far from the guest house. As a result, it is almost impossible to reach the settlement on foot for a little shopping or any other need. There was no provision for cooking or making a little tea for Niden in the guest house. For these reasons, the company's traveling sales executives would arrange for a local man to come and visit the guest house to see and hear what he had to eat. His name was Parvinder. Parvinder was a middle-aged and middle-aged man. He used to ride his motorbike to the guest house very early in the morning with a snack for me. He would go back to the village after arranging all the things I needed. He had a key to the guest house. In the afternoon, he would bring the night's cooking with him, cover it, sweep the house and say goodbye in the evening. The company car was for me to travel from the guest house to the factory.
Since it was a matter of finishing the work within the allotted time, I used to come back every night for a while. There was no way to talk more at home or on the phone with friends because of network problems in remote areas. It was impossible to spend time on the road without a book. So after dinner I would just lie on the bed for a while. Winter in North India is no longer like in Kolkata, the bone marrow is frozen and turned into ice. So you don't want to fall asleep at all. After spending two days, I realized that the problem was quite complex and could take more than a week. To that end, I gave the news to the head office. My Kasna bus was extended. On the fourth night, I was trying to sleep in the cold, shivering. At that moment, a faint rustling sound came to my ears. The silence of the crematorium would come down all over the place from 9 pm onwards. There would be occasional noises from the factories of the few companies that worked at night, but those were my familiar sounds. But this word is completely different and it came from very close.
I lay down in the same way. The sound was heard again in three minutes. This time a little clearer. Lying down, I thought it was coming from the small verandah adjacent to everyone's house. I got up with courage. I came out on the verandah with the lights on. Maybe rats or something like that. But the light on the porch is so dim that it is impossible to find a living creature like a rat in it. A strange thing came to my notice when I was going back to the bedroom when I saw nothing. There was a lot of dust in this area and it rained a little in the evening. I thought when Parvinder came in the morning I would tell him to clean the place first. But I saw that the verandah was absolutely dry and there were no spots of mud. It became so clear by itself that while thinking about kicker, a few more steps ahead I saw a pair of foam slippers. Just right next to the entrance door. It has been three days today that Parvinder is doing Asayawa. He comes after shoes every day and he has one and a half hours of work. There is no point in carrying a slipper and leaving it. The biggest thing is that when I took off my shoes back at the guesthouse, I didn't see any other slippers there. Now I was quite surprised to see that slipper right next to my shoes. Thinking I would ask Parvinder tomorrow morning, I went back to bed and went to bed. That sound again without turning the minute. Now from inside the house. I almost jumped up and sat on the bed. Ghostly stems.
I was in the same danger in this place without Pandav, brother Ray. Suddenly a broken voice was heard from the top of his head, "Kaya Sahab in fear." She is crouched in a half-dirty short dhoti and a dusty stained sweater looking at me. Surprise and fear then my mortal condition. The distance to speak with the mouth. Trying to calm me down, the man said, "By mistake, the door is open. Who are you And I was trying to sleep. I didn't sleep. I did not get any sound! "He said again, 'Did I really fall asleep? That's why I didn't notice anything. I didn't know what to do.' I paused for a moment. The conversation was very restrained. When the feeling of fear and amazement subsided a little, I asked the man to sit down. I did not see him sitting in the chair next to the bed. Do you want to drink, sir? "
. Where did a stranger come from? There is no crow. He wants to come into the house and have tea. But I don't know why that discomfort started to disappear at that moment. If you find unexpected hot tea in the freezing cold, it is very difficult to return it. So I agreed. He also started his speech by sincerely passing the tea to me in a paper cup.
I came to know that the name of the guest of this late night guest is Hemraj Rathi. About a mile from Kasna to Bulandshahr is another village called Ghanghola. About four men of the Hemrajs live in that village. Although the ancestors made a living by farming, much of the land has become uncultivable in the last 30 years due to excessive rainfall. Lacking sufficient efforts on the part of the government, many families of the village were forced to move to the surrounding major cities in the hope of earning a living. Most of them never returned to the village. Hemraj could not ignore the tension on the ancestral land. He had a small family with a small plot of land and a wife and a son. The wife died of a sudden two-day fever when the boy was eight. Lung infection was reported from Sadar Hospital. Nothing could be done due to lack of timely treatment. From then on, a new struggle began in Hemraj's life. Hemraj started dreaming of playing the role of father and mother at the same time in the life of a boy of that age and insisting on establishing him by teaching him to read and write. He used to ride his bicycle for about two hours and bring his son to school every day. Even though he did not know how to read, he kept a watchful eye on the daily rules and kept close watch on the boys in the village boundaries of most of his peers so that the boy would not go astray. Hemraj wanted to make his son a man by betting on all his savings and meager earnings. The boy did not disappoint her either. He understood his father's suffering. After studying hard, he got an honorary degree from Delhi Technical University and got a job in a well-known electronic company. They had plants in this area. Hemraj's life has been slowly changing since his son got the job. The gentle touch of happiness after a long fight gives them a safe haven. After a few years, the last duty can be fulfilled with the marriage of a son. There will be no more imperfections in life.