Looking back at my identity...

Today was a bad day for me. I got a call from one of my childhood friend. Not from him actually, but from his mobile. Strangely the caller was a police from our local police station inquiring some details. He had been shot to death yesterday night while illegally supplying cattles to neghourhood country, Bangladesh! No doubt, he was doing crime. But I feel sad for this whole incidence. Few days back when he called me, I didn't talk to him giving excuse of my busy schedule. Thought of calling him later. But I'm too late. This whole thing has made me feel sorry for myself, for my beautiful village, my wonderful early days friends. If my father wouldn't have been bit richer who knows I could also have similar fate. Many of my early friends are literally struggling to survive, few doing crime by illegally supplying Indian goods to Bangladesh, few serving foods in restaurants, few cooking in hotels, few plowing in firm lands... and here I'm expressing myself in Internet! I feel really odd when I go back to my village. Why this much contrast? Had they got enough opportunities, couldn't they have been leading a better life? No one is there perhaps to listen. We can only expect tomorrow world will be a better place.

Let Allah bless his soul. Amen.