II Mr. Partho was a poet, not by profession but yes he was very much passionate about it. His wife used to be the agonist in all of his story-telling poetry. Things haven’t changed even today.
“Hello Mr. Partho, how are you doing?”, greeted Mr. Kashyap at the grocery store. Mr. Kashyap was the fresher for the job from which Mr. Partho retired. Mr. Partho never accepted his promotion. He retired from the post which he was designated to when he joined the company. He knew promotion brings ‘transfer’, and he never wanted to leave his home and his wife. He wanted to be in this town for ever and ever. Because it was here in this town where he met her for the first time. “I am fine Babu Saheb, just the mornings have been a bit cruel to me. Nights are also no different”, replied Mr. Partho. “I suppose you are not getting sleep properly. Your eyes tell the whole story.” “I am sure they do, but I tell you that the sweet and memorable part of the story they don’t tell, and you will never know of it”, replied Mr. Partho. “I see. But I suggest you that at this age you must not live alone. Moreover your health has been consistently declining.”
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