Followed by ceremonial harassment; There are no last rites to validate that I was a prisoner, let alone a preliminary rite of passage.  Rituals!  Man cannot escape from these anywhere.  Everything is over.  I was walking towards that door.  That door swallowed me one day.  Now it's going to spit out.  Sin, indigestible gut!  I said goodbye to them.

  I remember.  The way it happened then was, 'I'm sorry to leave you.'  He asked.  I was shocked.  Did he get to know me?  Then why this question?  He did not know the whole thing.  know little bit.  May I come again as I came then.  This may seem normal.  The question is iconic.  But I was reluctant to answer. 

 Then, I do not know myself.  Who can tell?  'I said.  He is satisfied.  The door in front of me was slippery.  This is the second door.  It expanded with a slightly squeaky sound that sounded like the stress of prison.  I have come beyond that.  It condensed with the pressure of the tone of prison.  That Warder, my partner, where?  Next door, I was heading towards it too.  That is the third.  The last.  That door 'This guy

Get out "was the only roaring authority. As a man I had risen. I had been within the confines of the prison. But I had become a prisoner.! "Was the same voice that cried out incessantly, no matter what, the man never went down that far.  The last door is about to open.  I will become a free man.  When one of the eight stepped out of that door position. 

 What kind of heart was full of peace or heaviness?  No two, no, both together.  A creaking sound.  It sounded to me like the tone of a voice of sympathy rising from the bottom of an adorable heart.  The last door opened with that tone.  Anything can be said for good; The emotion of that moment alone cannot be told.

  It is the personal property of the heart.  It has no language.  I put an eight out.  Something seemed to look back.  Saw.  'Freedom Manusha, Brashta!  Do not turn this way again. "The door slammed shut (I thought) and then I saw the opposite man, a free man. A road stretches ahead of me. Behind are buildings, man-made., And then the sky descends into the distance, and one tries to mix something. Is that so? No. Behind that? The eyes penetrated frantically.

Story Over…

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