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last long smile
" Sir", a voice from behind hit my ears. Probably I took 180 degrees turn to see a curly short hair girl with a recorder pen. "Hi, this is Mouni, a reporter ". At first, I tried to ignore her yet her pleading eyes never stopped their attack on my heart so I accepted her's. " Thanks ", her words made my face muscles expand.
I was a successful entrepreneur that made her interview me. The little girl boarded into my car and I drove. she started throwing many questions about my past life, I knew she was curious but I bit myself that she would be in tears if she digs out my past. The night breeze was just refreshing us and I gave my answers at once. she was happy that she has completed her part of the assignment. Yes, it was a task for her to interview a social person. And I was her choice. She was busy noting my replies and I was driving with extra care. I left her on my way, once her assignment was done, as her dad would pick her up from there. The smile which she left, at last, took me back to my days.
Myself, my little sister, and my mother, wholly I called the beautiful gift of God. My father left us when we were born. I still remember the days we slept with hunger. But my mother worked hard to make us successful people in this society. My little sister, a beautiful soul whom I love, cares the most. Even though she is nearly 5 yrs younger than me, she is more responsible. My mother knew that we were hungry, my sister knew she can't bear it anymore but the long smile on her face never faded. People around saw us and just gave their pitiful reaction but did nothing, I hated them all.. especially my dad who left us with this. But still, my mother taught me to love the world. My mother managed us to join a school and provided us with the best education she could. I was 20 when I realized my mother won't be living anymore. She was on her death bed. My sister looked at me with yearning eyes. I wasn't that mature to console her. But I decided to lead my mother's dreams. I discontinued my studies and worked in a mechanic shop to color the dreams of my sister who wanted to be a doctor. My life had little happiness and it was disturbed by my so-called father who was working there in my sister's college. We were in there for the admission purpose and the most painful moment was not that we were low to him, it was he not recognizing us although we were his kids.
We both walked out as the process got completed and my sister said " Heart is the most beautiful creation of God, no matter it is been broken, hurt, it still functions" and her long smile at the end made me stand like a rock making me fail to realize she was being approached by a truck. When I was about to hold her hand to console, she was thrown. Things happened very fastly and didn't even have the time to understand the reality. I brought with me a pen to sign her admission letter but I signed her postmortem papers. I hated my father more and more, but I never did it and just moved on. I continued my higher studies and became great as any heir of a businessman could.
Now, I am 29, Looking at the little girl walking happily. Wounded hearts needn't be healed by our loved ones, it can be done by anyone whom we meet. I experienced it with her. The days passed on hoping to see her long smile for one last time. I met my expectations, I saw her with her mother. They were strangers but my heart felt as if I knew them before. The week following the interview of the little girl had been making me think of the past life and I was worried. I just came out to relax and entered a coffee bar where I surprisingly found the same little girl and it was her shop. We became so close and felt happy with them as much as I was with my sister and mother. Although the empty spot of them can't be filled by anyone. The little girl was excited to chat with me , where I came to know she once had heart transplantation and it was replaced by a donor whom she wanted to meet atleast knew in her life. I was happy to see even such people are there in this cold world. She brought me the signature of the donor's guardian and asked me if I could help her in searching this person to say thanks. I just took a look at the signature when my life took a turn again. The donor was none other than my sister and the real trauma was when I saw my dad referred to as the girl's dad. The feel I had for the girl's family was familiar but never thought it would be my family. He figured out that the person might be me from his daughter's report. He broke the truth in front of them and bent his knees to me. I had nothing and left them with one note, thanks and goodbye. My eyes were flooded and I wanted not to be close with them. The little girl ran back to me and said sorry for not being there in my past and told me not to hate her as she owns the heart of his sister and made the long smile again.
I was a successful entrepreneur that made her interview me. The little girl boarded into my car and I drove. she started throwing many questions about my past life, I knew she was curious but I bit myself that she would be in tears if she digs out my past. The night breeze was just refreshing us and I gave my answers at once. she was happy that she has completed her part of the assignment. Yes, it was a task for her to interview a social person. And I was her choice. She was busy noting my replies and I was driving with extra care. I left her on my way, once her assignment was done, as her dad would pick her up from there. The smile which she left, at last, took me back to my days.
Myself, my little sister, and my mother, wholly I called the beautiful gift of God. My father left us when we were born. I still remember the days we slept with hunger. But my mother worked hard to make us successful people in this society. My little sister, a beautiful soul whom I love, cares the most. Even though she is nearly 5 yrs younger than me, she is more responsible. My mother knew that we were hungry, my sister knew she can't bear it anymore but the long smile on her face never faded. People around saw us and just gave their pitiful reaction but did nothing, I hated them all.. especially my dad who left us with this. But still, my mother taught me to love the world. My mother managed us to join a school and provided us with the best education she could. I was 20 when I realized my mother won't be living anymore. She was on her death bed. My sister looked at me with yearning eyes. I wasn't that mature to console her. But I decided to lead my mother's dreams. I discontinued my studies and worked in a mechanic shop to color the dreams of my sister who wanted to be a doctor. My life had little happiness and it was disturbed by my so-called father who was working there in my sister's college. We were in there for the admission purpose and the most painful moment was not that we were low to him, it was he not recognizing us although we were his kids.
We both walked out as the process got completed and my sister said " Heart is the most beautiful creation of God, no matter it is been broken, hurt, it still functions" and her long smile at the end made me stand like a rock making me fail to realize she was being approached by a truck. When I was about to hold her hand to console, she was thrown. Things happened very fastly and didn't even have the time to understand the reality. I brought with me a pen to sign her admission letter but I signed her postmortem papers. I hated my father more and more, but I never did it and just moved on. I continued my higher studies and became great as any heir of a businessman could.
Now, I am 29, Looking at the little girl walking happily. Wounded hearts needn't be healed by our loved ones, it can be done by anyone whom we meet. I experienced it with her. The days passed on hoping to see her long smile for one last time. I met my expectations, I saw her with her mother. They were strangers but my heart felt as if I knew them before. The week following the interview of the little girl had been making me think of the past life and I was worried. I just came out to relax and entered a coffee bar where I surprisingly found the same little girl and it was her shop. We became so close and felt happy with them as much as I was with my sister and mother. Although the empty spot of them can't be filled by anyone. The little girl was excited to chat with me , where I came to know she once had heart transplantation and it was replaced by a donor whom she wanted to meet atleast knew in her life. I was happy to see even such people are there in this cold world. She brought me the signature of the donor's guardian and asked me if I could help her in searching this person to say thanks. I just took a look at the signature when my life took a turn again. The donor was none other than my sister and the real trauma was when I saw my dad referred to as the girl's dad. The feel I had for the girl's family was familiar but never thought it would be my family. He figured out that the person might be me from his daughter's report. He broke the truth in front of them and bent his knees to me. I had nothing and left them with one note, thanks and goodbye. My eyes were flooded and I wanted not to be close with them. The little girl ran back to me and said sorry for not being there in my past and told me not to hate her as she owns the heart of his sister and made the long smile again.
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