write a story that (Lie is not always bad) value points are shown in photo
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***happy living sad story***
This was around a year back. My parents had moved into a new house in a new locality.
In the last house of our street stayed a couple in their late forties. They had 2 children. Their daughter had been married off and her younger brother, maybe 16-17 yo, was a nice young lad but a little too pampered. He got whatever he demanded for with no one else to snatch a share. And his parents were not anywhere near disciplinarians.
On the first night of Bohag Bihu - our local new year celebrated throughout the month of April - the kid had gone to party with his friends to a nearby place in his motorbike(probably a superbike).
Traditionally, in bohag bihu, neighboring 2 to 4 families would get together in the biggest backyard among them, make bonfire, cook food, sing, dance, drink, and share stories - kind of like a backyard picnic.
This kid’s parents, along with a few other families in our street(including my parents), were having this traditional feast together. Everything was going great. The weather wasn’t so bad and people were completely immersed in fun.
After it was past 1–2 am, the families started to disperse. But two of the uncles had drank a lot - including the kid’s father. He just wouldn’t stop narrating stories. At times, he was unable to remember what he was saying. My dad and 3 other uncles decided to sit there with the two uncles near the bonfire for some more time. They finally came back to respective houses at around 4am.
Next day morning, news flew, that people found a teenager, dead in the swamps near a bridge some 10 kms from our town. It was this kid.
He met with an accident in his bike when he was returning back from the party. Since nobody informed this at night, people concluded he was coming alone. His parents claim some car must have hit him in those narrow roads - but no one can tell for sure.
But the saddest part is not that.
The kid had died at around 3am at night.
Now, lets recap something. At around midnight, amidst the merriment, the father had got a call from his son.
The call was noisy. The kid was inaudible. All the father could remember from the call was “Papa. Papa. Papa.”. Along with unrecognizable squeaks and sounds of wind. The father was too drunk to worry or comprehend that it might be something serious. After the call got cut, he ignored it , passing it for some kind of network issue(which is very very common here in India). And continued his bonfire. The police later informed that the kid laid there in the swamp for at least 2–3 hours before dying from his injuries.
The saddest part is, the father could not recognize his son’s cry for help. Every Bohag Bihu, he would die inside wondering “If only..”. He lives with the guilt forever.
PS: The time stamps may not be completely accurate.
This was around a year back. My parents had moved into a new house in a new locality.
In the last house of our street stayed a couple in their late forties. They had 2 children. Their daughter had been married off and her younger brother, maybe 16-17 yo, was a nice young lad but a little too pampered. He got whatever he demanded for with no one else to snatch a share. And his parents were not anywhere near disciplinarians.
On the first night of Bohag Bihu - our local new year celebrated throughout the month of April - the kid had gone to party with his friends to a nearby place in his motorbike(probably a superbike).
Traditionally, in bohag bihu, neighboring 2 to 4 families would get together in the biggest backyard among them, make bonfire, cook food, sing, dance, drink, and share stories - kind of like a backyard picnic.
This kid’s parents, along with a few other families in our street(including my parents), were having this traditional feast together. Everything was going great. The weather wasn’t so bad and people were completely immersed in fun.
After it was past 1–2 am, the families started to disperse. But two of the uncles had drank a lot - including the kid’s father. He just wouldn’t stop narrating stories. At times, he was unable to remember what he was saying. My dad and 3 other uncles decided to sit there with the two uncles near the bonfire for some more time. They finally came back to respective houses at around 4am.
Next day morning, news flew, that people found a teenager, dead in the swamps near a bridge some 10 kms from our town. It was this kid.
He met with an accident in his bike when he was returning back from the party. Since nobody informed this at night, people concluded he was coming alone. His parents claim some car must have hit him in those narrow roads - but no one can tell for sure.
But the saddest part is not that.
The kid had died at around 3am at night.
Now, lets recap something. At around midnight, amidst the merriment, the father had got a call from his son.
The call was noisy. The kid was inaudible. All the father could remember from the call was “Papa. Papa. Papa.”. Along with unrecognizable squeaks and sounds of wind. The father was too drunk to worry or comprehend that it might be something serious. After the call got cut, he ignored it , passing it for some kind of network issue(which is very very common here in India). And continued his bonfire. The police later informed that the kid laid there in the swamp for at least 2–3 hours before dying from his injuries.
The saddest part is, the father could not recognize his son’s cry for help. Every Bohag Bihu, he would die inside wondering “If only..”. He lives with the guilt forever.
PS: The time stamps may not be completely accurate.
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sushmita:
and u
I am from H.P.
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U use insta
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U use insta
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I don't use any social sites
Ohk sister
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