“The Last Light of the Day”

Rasel was born in a calm riverside town where life moved gradually, just like the pontoons coasting over the calm waters. The sky there was continuously wide and open, painted with delicate clouds amid the day and stars at night. His house was a little one—mud dividers, a tin roof, and the commonplace scent of dairy animals' waste smoke in the early morning. But what it needed in extravagance, it made up for in adore.

His father, Harun Mia, was a farmer—a man solidified by sun and soil, with unpleasant hands and a heart full of care. His mother, Aklima, was delicate, continuously murmuring society melodies as she went through almost her day. They weren't wealthy, but they had each other. They instructed Rasel on the values of genuineness, regard, and difficult work.

From a youthful age, Rasel appeared with a curiosity that stood out. Whereas other boys played within the areas, Rasel would hunker close to the town technician and gaze at broken motorbikes. He would inquire questions—endless questions—about how motors worked and what made the wheels turn. His eyes shimmered at whatever point a vehicle passed by. To him, machines were enchantment.

He was a great understudy. His instructors accepted he might go far away. But destiny had other plans. When Rasel was as it was fourteen, his father fell genuinely sick. The family's little wage vanished with it. Pharmaceutical fetched cash. Nourishment takes a cash toll. And dreams? Dreams had to be pushed aside.

Rasel stopped school without challenge. He has begun working with his uncle in the fields. But the fire inside him refused to blur. Each time a bike thundered past the sloppy town street, his heart hustled.

At seventeen, he made the courageous choice to take off for the city. Mymensingh was boisterous, swarmed, and overpowering, but Rasel was decided. Through a far-off cousin, he found work in a carport. It was a faraway cry from his dreams—long hours, messy floors, no pay—but it was a beginning. The other specialists didn't care for desire. They chuckled when Rasel inquired questions. But Rasel observed, learned, and practiced at whatever point he got the chance. After work, no matter how tired, he examined ancient, torn books and observed car repair recordings on a broken second-hand phone.

Over time, his aptitudes progressed. One day, a silver BMW drove into the garage—an uncommon find. A strongly dressed man ventured out, anxious and doubtful. Rasel dealt with the car with certainty and accuracy. In less than an hour, he settled a complex motor issue that had astounded the others.

The man was amazed. “What's your name?” he inquired.

“Rasel,” he answered unobtrusively.

“You're talented,” the man said, giving him a card. “Visit me. I may be able to help.”

Rasel was delayed for days. He wasn't utilized to trust. But in the long run, he accumulated the boldness and went to the address. He found that the man was the proprietor of a specialized firm. After hearing Rasel's story, he advertised him a grant.

“Study,” he said. “Your hands as of now know the work. Let your intellect ace it.”

For another three long times, Rasel adjusted ponders and part-time work. It wasn't simple. In some cases, he skipped dinners to spare cash. Some of the time, he fell snoozing over books. But he never gave up. His assurance has to be his quality. Gradually, his world started to move.

After graduation, he didn't hunt for a job. He returned to his town for a couple of days and stood by the waterway, recalling his more youthful self. At that point, he came back to the city and opened a little garage—just a shed, a signboard, and a borrowed tool stash. He named it “Rasel's Auto Care.”

At to begin with, clients were rare. A few taunted him for being “too young” to believe. But those who did grant him a chance never cleared out baffled. His trustworthiness and expertise started to draw consideration. Word spread. The carport got to be busy.

He brought in two boys from his town and prepared them rather like he had learned. He instructed them not as it was how to settle cars but how to talk courteously, clarify issues clearly, and treat each client with regard. His carport became more than a business—it became a dream plant for boys who had none.

One evening, as the sun started to set, the same man with the BMW strolled in once more. Rasel recognized him immediately and grinned.

“You've come a long way,” the man said, tasting tea from a clay container Rasel advertised to him.