The Man by the River

It’s a very enjoyable story; it’s worth reading ... Thank For Read

Once upon a time, in a small village near a wide river, there lived a man who loved to visit the river every day. The river was calm and peaceful, flowing slowly through the green lands. The man found comfort and happiness sitting by the riverbank, away from the noise of the village and the busy life.

Each morning, he would prepare a small basket with ripe mangoes. The mangoes were his favorite fruit — sweet, juicy, and full of summer sunshine. He would walk slowly to the river, carrying the basket carefully, feeling the fresh morning air on his face.

When he reached the riverbank, he would find a soft spot under a big tree or on the grass. The tree’s leaves gave him cool shade from the warm sun. He would spread a colorful cloth on the ground and place his mangoes neatly beside him. Sometimes, he would hear birds singing high in the branches or see butterflies flying near the flowers by the water.

The man loved to watch the river water. It moved gently, making soft sounds as it passed over small stones. Sometimes, fish jumped out of the water and splashed back in. The river was like a friend to him — always there, always flowing, always calm.

He would pick a mango from his basket, feeling its smooth skin in his hands. Slowly, he peeled it and took a bite. The sweet juice ran down his fingers, but he did not mind. The taste was wonderful — full of sunshine and nature’s goodness. Eating the mango while listening to the river made him feel happy and peaceful.

As he ate, the man thought about many things. He thought about his family, who lived in the village. He hoped they were well and safe. He thought about the trees, the birds, and the river itself. Life could be hard sometimes, but moments like this made it beautiful.

Sometimes, children from the village would come to the river to play. They would laugh and shout, throwing stones or chasing each other near the water. The man smiled when he saw them, remembering his own childhood. The children would sometimes sit near him, sharing a mango or telling stories. The man loved these moments of friendship and joy.

The sun slowly moved across the sky, and the light changed. Shadows grew longer, and the air became cooler. The man finished the last mango from his basket. He packed the cloth and the empty basket carefully.

Before leaving, he stood up and looked at the river one last time. The water sparkled in the sunset light, and the trees looked golden. He felt a deep calm inside, like his heart was full of peace.

The man walked back to the village slowly, carrying the happiness of the river with him. He knew that no matter what happened in life, he could always return to this quiet place. The river and the mangoes were his way to find rest, joy, and hope.

From that day on, the man made visiting the river a special part of his life. Every morning or afternoon, he would go there, sit quietly, and enjoy the simple beauty around him. The river became a place of healing, a place of dreams, and a place of love.

And so, the man lived a peaceful life, always remembering the small moments — the sweet mango, the flowing river, the singing birds, and the warm sun — that made his days bright and his heart full.