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6 April, 2017 00:00 00 AM / LAST MODIFIED: 5 April, 2017 11:28:29 PM
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The Old Woman

The Old Woman

Shounak Reza

The old woman sat in front of the school. Classes had ended for the day, and mothers were waiting for their children to come out. As the children came out, smiles of satisfaction appeared on the faces of their mothers. It had been a long day and the children were pestering their mothers, some asking for ice cream, the others merely recalling what they had been taught that day. The mothers listened patiently, smiling patiently from time to time, as some of them walked towards their cars, while the others waited for rickshaws. Nobody paid heed to the old woman crouching silently in front of the school. Old beggars were not uncommon in the city. But the old woman was not asking anybody for money. She just kept looking at the children.
 A man selling ice cream made his way to the place where the old woman sat. Seeing him, a little boy rushed to him, begging his mother to buy him ice cream. The mother smiled and was looking for some spare change in her purse when her son suddenly exclaimed, ‘“Ammu, look, that old woman is looking at me!” The boy’s mother looked at the old woman. She was very old and frail and looked weak and hungry. Feeling sympathy, the boy’s mother went to the old woman, offering her some money. But the old woman refused. Then she smiled and with tears glistening in her eyes, she said: “You have a lovely son.” Surprised, the boy’s mother smiled and said “Thank you”. And having bought the ice cream, gave the old woman a final look and left the place.
The old woman thought of the boy and his mother all day long. Then as night fell, she kept thinking of the good old days. She also had a son, a son whom she used to pick up from school every day. She used to buy him ice creams. She used to adore her son more than anything else in the world. Then, one day, after her son had got married, something unimaginable had happened. Without telling her, the son had packed her bags and sent her to an old-age home. She had been devastated and heartbroken. Every week, she would go back to the school where her son had studied as a child and she would watch the children. They would remind her of those wonderful old days. Then she would make her way back to the old-age home.
But that day, she did not return. Night had fallen and it had started raining, but the old woman, looking sound asleep, did not move as the rain drenched her.

 

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Editor : M. Shamsur Rahman

Published by the Editor on behalf of Independent Publications Limited at Media Printers, 446/H, Tejgaon I/A, Dhaka-1215.
Editorial, News & Commercial Offices : Beximco Media Complex, 149-150 Tejgaon I/A, Dhaka-1208, Bangladesh. GPO Box No. 934, Dhaka-1000.

Editor : M. Shamsur Rahman
Published by the Editor on behalf of Independent Publications Limited at Media Printers, 446/H, Tejgaon I/A, Dhaka-1215.
Editorial, News & Commercial Offices : Beximco Media Complex, 149-150 Tejgaon I/A, Dhaka-1208, Bangladesh. GPO Box No. 934, Dhaka-1000.

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