I sell rings, metal rings. This is how I am living last twenty two years. I live in the street with homeless people. But I have parents and a home. I left my home after I lost her. She died in an accident before our marriage. If she could survive, my life would be different. Twenty two years would be different. I could be able to live a life any normal people live. After lying her into the graveyard I returned to home, I did not cry. I told my mother I was not feeling to live inside a home anymore. She cried, tried to stop me but at the end she accepted it. She told me that the doors of my house will be always open for me. She will be waiting for me. I go back to her sometimes, the days when I feel I forget everything. She screams in joy when I enter inside the house, call everyone and say , 'Babu is Back'. She cooks good food for me, prepares my bed so I can have some rest. But I could not stay there for long. I returned to the street among unknown people. I found that most people are very lonely. Often times they start conversations while buying rings, share problems about their life. Share about complexity, heartache and misunderstanding they are going through. I listen to them carefully and then they ask me to give them advice. I give advises to them which they already know. I want them to go back to home, finish problems with their loved one, want them to regain the happiness they are already given. Many of them look at me and say they envy my happiness. I never told anyone about my life. I do not want to correct them and laugh a lot. Ask them to go back to home, ask them to forgive. Forgiving is easier than forgetting. One day I will too return to my home, the moment I will be able to forget everything. But when I do not know.
