A return from Never Ending Story

"How was the exam of Iqra(my eldest daughter) yesterday?" I asked my wife 3,500 km away from Bangladesh being in Sudan.

"She repeated her father's story!"- My wife laughed at me sympathetically, "Yeah, that was a good name you gave to your one-Never ending story!" She is pinching me ," That is not ending rather returning!".

This woman is giving her whole life to rear my babies as perfect as an ideal mother could do. She passed almost sleepless nights to teach Iqra before each and every exams. I often see, she is more serious than my poor daughter to fight the exam! Yes, to fight the exam; now a days the study is no more a fun but a battle ground.....taking pen like spear , thousands of books in the bag like haversack... making small body smaller every day...over loaded and exhausted on return...! I really feel pity for them. When we used to roam around the places...running about the flowers just to catch up a butterfly ; they are shuttling around for coaching in the same time. When we used to make mud houses and exchange the dolls or making market places to trade just amusingly thinking and copying the activities of a married couple....they pass the same time playing with computers! I think they are making their life more electronic than natural one!

"She studied Science but appeared in Social Science -the totally different exam!"-My wife interrupted my thoughts. What should I say when her father appeared worng exams consecuitively twice in his childhood! So with such a duffer dossier, do I have right to charge my sweet baby? "No, never!"-I was justifying the incident as a father, "Have you checked the exam schedule of tomorrow's one?" I asked my wife fearing that she(Iqra) might be trapped again like his father.

"Yeah, it is Science!" -she sighed. "You know, I was almost crying on return, even the rickshaw- puller was asking me why I didn't check her schedule when she is such a younger one! Now tell me what I am supposed to do?" -her urge made me mew only.

"I got to go, need to feed Alvi (the youngest daughter) now!"- she left me alone in the ocean of thoughts.

I felt her every emotional speeches, her overburden responsibilities, her seriousness....all were started echoing together in my heart....as if all were falling crushed on the bank of my ocean of thoughts....I looked at the mail box till it went grey....my "Sweet voice" vanished 3,500 km away!