Writer Joshoda Jibon Debnath Its Written story-The Unfinished Story of my life-Part-2

I was born in a corner of a village. The touch of modernity hadn’t reached here yet. Muddy paths were our constant companions. As evening fell, my mother would say, “Hey, it’s getting dark—haven’t you sat down to study yet?” I’d light the kerosene lamp and sit to study. The SSC exams were ahead, but I didn’t have the money to fill out the form. When the lamp oil ran low and the light flickered, I’d sit and wonder—would the sun ever rise in my life? With great difficulty I borrowed the money from the villagers to fill the form. I promised I’d work after the exams and pay it back. As fate would have it, my exam center was in Madhukhali. But it was far from our home. I had no close relatives there to stay with. And with no money, how would I even arrange to stay? At that time, my village neighbors were working good jobs in gold shops in Dhaka. I thought if I could ask them, maybe they’d help me get work. Every time I asked, they assured me they would. But later they never followed up. When they came to the village, they wouldn’t even meet me—I wouldn’t even know they’d come and gone. After the exams I’d have to repay the borrowed money. So I realized there was no point relying on them. I had to help myself. For the last time, I set things in order and went to Madhukhali. Those were truly hard days. But I’ll be forever grateful to those days. They taught me that in life’s battle, you yourself have to be your own friend.