What Fate Had, And Has, In Store

I don’t remember the name of the story, and that’s what’s sad. But, I do remember the story that made a large chunk of my childhood a bliss. It was written in Bangla, my native tongue, and I wasn’t quite fluent in reading it. Mom used to read it to me at least twice every day. At one point, i had it known by heart and knew exactly how much of it went on each page.