My name is muskan . I live in bhopal now, but when I was younger, I lived in village. My father was a normal worker there and my mother worked as a housewife. We lived in bhopal for seven years. I was happy at school, with lots of friends, and we had a good time. I liked cultural music, arjitsingh was my favorite singer. and my youtuber danish jahan,He died in a car accident the year I left school, but I listened to his short videos all the time. I had hundreds of pictures and photos of him on my bedroom wall. Then one day in winter when I was seventeen, things began to go wrong for me. My father went to village. I loved him very much and didn’t like him going away. “Come home quickly,” I always said to him. He was in village for two weeks. Then, on the day of his journey home, an bus from vidisha crashed into the highway. Everybody on the plane died. I heard about the bus accident on television. At first, I did not think about my father. Then I remembered he was travelling back from village on that day. “Oh, no!” I cried. I telephoned the relatives but they did not know then. “Perhaps my father didn’t get that bus,” I thought. “Oh, please! Please!” My mother was at some work and I called her on the telephone. She came home quickly and we went to that place and waited for news. Later, we learned my father was on the bus. “It’s not true!” I shouted. But it was true, and I began to cry. I cried for weeks and weeks. I spent many days alone in my room. I was lonely and sad and I wanted to die, too. I stopped going out with my friends. I didn’t want to see other people. I stopped listening songs and videos, and took his pictures off my bedroom wall. I didn’t listen to music or watch television. Nothing mattered any more. Then I stopped crying. I stopped feeling sad and began to feel angry. “Why did it happen to him?” I asked my mother. “Why do the best people die? . My father.” “I… I don’t know,” my mother said. She was unhappy, too.
At the time of the bus accident, I was a student at college. I enjoyed the college work and life very much, but after my father’s death I stopped doing my work at the college. I began to go out with some new friends. They were different from my other friends, and my mother didn’t like them. “They’re bad people,” she told me. “They do dangerous things.”
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