She wasn't as bore as she seemed. Next day also, they chat on the same place but on different topics. This time; they discussed about their personal life. “From where you came to this city?” she asked. “I came from Budgella village. My mother died after I was born. My father married another wife. My father wanted something from me but I wanted something from life. So I decided to leave my village and I am wandering here and there. So, I came here. So, what about you?” he said. “There is a long story. I opened my eyes when my mother closed her own. Those innocent eyes of mine were thirsty of desert of getting mother’s love. I was lived in this world by my father and elder sister. My father was a rich man but a wino bibber. He had enough time but those hours, minute hand of his clock didn’t point for his family. He was like ATM card machine for her daughter. I could withdraw any amount till the validity didn’t end in his expenses for the drinks. During my childhood, my innocent eyes picked up many big dreams of becoming a doctor or an engineer but all turned out to be fragile and pushed to some uncertain periods when I became a drug addict. In my school days, I was quite jolly, friendly with my pals but when the time passed by, there were drastic changes in my behaviors. I spent half of childhood in hostel confining myself away from the world as far as possible, living up to my own. When I returned home, completing my high school, still I found myself more into darkness in light due to my father’s attitude and behaviors. Every time, my desire quenched for loneliness among the crowd. Behind these hazel eyes was a girl who was very lonely inside, even though on the outside I was smiling. My silence talked more than the words. Smokes, drugs, gajas became my daily necessities. Once, I was deprived of those stuffs then my body started fighting against my own soul. I didn’t walk in the road as if I ruled the world, but I used to walk in the world as if she didn’t care whoever ruled the world. I was freakier. People called me “bindas girl” in their local language, who puffed one, two packets of cigarettes daily and needed the daily dose of syringe piercing inside my skin. To meet the thirst of those drugs for my body, I started selling her stuffs when I found no money in my account. Reading novels, writing poems, articles became my favorite pastimes. I hardly had friends. Some of my close friends got distanced from me when I fell in the trap of drugs. I had circles for dealing with drugs but there were none for dealing with my emotions and feelings. I was technically and socially challenged. Unlike the people of my age, I was out of this wired world. I was out of modern era and fashions of going party, discos, and dates” she continued. “One night my father tried to rape my sister in drunken state. I tried to control him but couldn’t. So, I pulled the trigger and shoot him dead. I was put in prison for 1 year and my grandfather released me. This is all about me” she said. She looked sad. In order to divert the sadness, he said “I want to hear some of your piece” “Which one?” she asked.
This is a fiction of young boy who dreams to traveler. He wonders in many dreamland.