A day passed, while Saturday was not the public holiday, back then. Sohail looked at the newspaper for the address. He quickly stepped out with his money on his pocket. He walked on the main road, where the constructed buildings and some muddy roads kept the traffic busy with the least crowd. Hence, a rickshaw without a passenger was passing by. He halted the rickshaw, the rickshaw puller stopped.

Surprisingly, the rickshaw puller was a female figure because usually in the 80s, female rickshaw pullers were rare to find. The rickshaw was the bicycle on the front, while the seat was of a colorful canvas, load of posters of Sohail Rana's movies as well as the bottom line, written 'A mother's blessing is a key to heaven'. The lady was tall, young and beautiful who stood on the side of the road. Her hair was curly, wearing a black jacket, a cloth on the top of the hair with the red luscious lips, attracted Sohail to such an extent, that the lady snapped on the fingers that woke Sohail up from the exclaimatory face.

"Hey you, haven't you seen a lady pulling a rickshaw on the streets?" snapped the lady.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am" apologized Sohail.

"Oh, I have never seen a guy like you, apologizing someone like me" snapped the lady. "So, come on, where are you going?"

"To..to..the Azadi" stammered Sohail.

"Oh, that awful place where a load of bold news happened?" asked the rickshaw lady.

"Yes" agreed Sohail.

Henceforth, the handsome Sohail sat behind the gorgeous rickshaw lady's back. Though her thick, chattering accent irritated the other passengers, Sohail enjoyed her talketive side and free natured side. Least traffic but the enjoyable ride it was for his perspective. The empty roads and the least traffic where the story gave a heart.

"So, why are you going to the news agency?" asked the rickshaw lady.

"Oh, just to come out of the French leave" said Sohail.

"French leave? What's that?" asked the lady.

"It's like a week absence" explained Sohail.

"By the way, I am Sheela, what's yours?" introduced the rickshaw lady. "Actually, my father used to be a rickshaw puller. Despite the fact that I am in the final year of my university, I am just doing my job in the absence of my father".

"I see, so is this your real income?" smiled Sohail.

"Something else is" said Sheela, the rickshaw puller.

"Ok! That's strange" surprised Sohail

Sohail was about to say his name but he was stopped by her talketive nature. Sohail continued to enjoy that talketive beauty's nature. The talk reached his destination. The watchmen looked surprised at Sohail, riding in the rickshaw. They were self-employed plus much respectful to their seniors. The biscuit colored uniform with the black hat stood on the gates of the agency.

"Sir!" exclaimed one of the watchmen. They rushed and took him out of the rickshaw. When the security guards was sweeping the dust off from his kurta.

The rickshaw girl looked at the other security guard and called him with by snapping her fingers.

"Hey, who is this sir?" asked Sheela, the rickshaw puller.

"Sohail Habibur Rehman" answered the security guard.

"The top journalist from the newspaper, who had an accident a week ago? That is a sign of good luck!" exclaimed the rickshaw girl.

Sohail almost forgot to pay the rickshaw fare. As soon as the Sheela was about to leave, he rushed and stopped her again.

"Sheela ma'am, you forgot your fees!" cried Sohail.

He was about to give her 2000 bucks but Sheela politely refused.

"No, no, it's for your father's medicine" gasped Sohail.

Sheela's beautiful smile just touched the youthern heart of Sohail.

"We'll meet again!" Sheela cried out loud.

The watchmen were shocked to see the kindness of Sohail, after the 'memory-loss' effect. Sohail was previously, a hot-tempered, no-nonsense journalist who fogot his youthfulness over time, when he became the experienced top-journalist. The smile also was faded due to his constant workings as well as the war that had been seen before his career as a journalist. Furthermore, he and Sabeda also became an orphan, as his parents died in the war and Uncle Haleem, who was their mother's brother was the only one who had taken care of them. Aunt Haleema was also the caring mother, as soon as she accepted Uncle Haleem. Sohail was dancing that if it was reminded of a very catchy number of a Bangladeshi old songs, musically directed by R.D.Burman.

Sohail walked inside the house with a smile, where some were having typewriters, while on the other hand, the newspaper clippings on the board. Furthermore, the vintage posters of the news as well as the movements in the 1952 were hanging around. Most of the colleagues looked at his youthern joy, while the short, stout man with a jet grey hair and a thick mustache was coming out of his cabin. Sohail looked at him and stopped plus blushed with the youthern feel. Sound of the wooden furnitures do have the essence of the photographic memory. Some of them were wearing the formal shirts, or coats, while the others were wearing the kurta and lungi, even for Sohail's case.

"Well, Sohail, it's been a while to see your overjoyed, face, how have you been?" asked the stout man.

"Ah...sir! It's just I took a French leave" stammered Sohail.

"Welcome back from the land of the dead! But I heard that you are being amnesiac for a while, after the incident" said the boss.

"Maybe, I did, sir but when you have to recall it one at time, you must have to explore, isn't it?" said Sohail.

"Remember? When you first stepped into my doorstep for an interview, I asked you a question that why are you here in the newspaper? Do you know what you answered?" said the boss.

"Sorry sir" Sohail cleared his throat.

"You want to explore the world and I gave you the opportunity to do it. But when the time progressed, probably, three years, I saw you lost some enthusiasm and that joyful attitude of yours, that I was always willing to see. You may partially lost your memory, but I am proud of you to restablish the enthusiastic attitude! Welcome back from the dead, son!" delightly said the boss.

Sohail looked shocked 'post-partial amnesia', whereas Jawad, he could not find any welcoming people except Kochu, who was actually a true friend. But welcoming back from the dead? It's a little shivering. What did happen in the middle of the career while he established? The suspense did gave a shiver on which the boss, snapped him with his finger. The smile from the boss and the overjoyed behavior were the first time for the colleagues because usually, he was always unpleasant and rude. The boss warmly greeted Sohail to the room.

"So, what are you up to, son?" said the jolly boss.

Jawad looked at the identity card:

NAME: AHMAD SIQQIDUI

DESIGNATION: SENIOR JOURNALIST AND HEAD EDITOR

The black and white photo looked like as the film grains were coming on its way. Jawad's fascination of the vintage photographs have become the ultimate reality as it could show at the back of the head editor's cabin. The clippings and frames were best decorated beautifully such as a tapestries were coming on his mind. The amazement did gave him the smile and stare.

"Well, sir, it's just to recollect some unfinished business of mine plus to see the office right after my French leave" explained Jawad.

"Isn't it beautiful?" complimented Ahmad, the head editor.

"Yes...I think so" answered Sohail.

"Well, as you got into your absence and your medical history, I would like to inform you that, a journalist is handling in your absence and yes, it's your colleague. And, I want you to focus on your family. As far as I remember, when you attempted to expose the narcotics, you were just in the office for 24 hours. I think, you need to focus more on your family responsibilities, son" said Ahmad.

"But sir, it's my duty. I need to know my past..."

"Son, you have done enough, but your colleague is handling the rest of it. But if you want to know more on the information, you, Saleem and Rehana, were a team of journalists, who not only exposing the narcotics, you guys also were investigating the post-war murder of Nihar Banu, that actually gave set you guys a record of the top journalist and now, that you might face a little bit of an itch in the head, you must need a bed rest"

"But sir...What about Saleem?"

"He...he was shot...dead"

Sohail was surprised for his background but not on the suspense of Saleem's death, where he heard it from Rahat, earlier. Sorrow did come from Sohail's life, and as Jawad, he realized Sabeda's problems, where she needs the happiness that would alter the future consequence, which may set the happiness on not only Sabeda's happiness but also the family's joy, on which he realized that, as Sohail, he was the joyful member of the family.