Story World: The splendor of the story of the world's best creators ...

- 'The author can only do so much. Keep an eye on the truth of life and then explain it. ' -The Mopasa

- I thought that my girlfriend must have written something new on his tombstone. And I ran fearlessly through all those half-opened coffins

'Varta' was created for the first time in Gujarati language. It was 100 years old last year. On this occasion, a unique celebration was held by publishing classic stories of famous creators of Gujarat in 'Gujarat Samachar'. A treasure trove of Gujarati stories received a warm response from readers. After that, it is now presented to the readers of 'Gujarat Samachar' - the splendor of the works of the world's foremost storytellers ...

(Flowing story: 'Was it a dream?' Is the title of the story. The whole story is told through the protagonist's soliloquy. The narrator loves his girlfriend wildly. But one evening he goes out for some reason. The protagonist dies in agony. He remembers the last hours he spent with her. His mood is such that he remembers a few things. And he doesn't remember a few things. The sound of a hammer lying upstairs ... I remember. Oh, God, God! And then Annie's funeral. He is haunted by the memory of his girlfriend, who leaves the cemetery and sees his girlfriend's grave where it is written: 'He loved, fell in love and died.' To spend tonight with his dead girlfriend, to escape the gaze of the cemetery watchman, until it gets dark He decides to spend the night in hiding in the cemetery. Now forward ....)

Ha ha ha

'' And at the end of that abandoned cemetery, I suddenly realized that there were people buried in the place who had died a long time ago, and now they were all mixed up with clay, turned into clay themselves. Now this has become a place where those who die tomorrow will be crushed. The place was covered with unripe roses and strong and dark cypress trees. It was a gloomy and beautiful garden, nourished by human flesh.

'' I was alone, completely alone, and so I leaned under a green tree. I hid myself among the thick black gloomy branches. I clung to the trunk, waiting for it to darken, like a passenger on a sunken ship holding a wooden plank.

"When it was completely dark, I left my shelter and started walking lightly, slowly, without making a sound on the ground full of dead people. I have been wandering there for a long time but I have not been able to find it again. Spreading my arms and my hands, my legs, my knees, my chest, even my head, I kept knocking on every grave door but I didn't find it. I stretched out my hand in the dark, searching for it, trying to find it by touching it, as if a blind man were scrambling to find his way. I was touching the stone on the tomb, the cross, the latticework, the metal garlands and the garlands of dried flowers! I kept reading by turning my finger on the letters of the name engraved on the grave. One after another ... but what a night that was! What a night I couldn't find it again!

"There was no moon in the sky. What a night it was! I was terrified, this narrow path, between the two rows of graves I was terribly terrified. Tomb! Tomb! And the grave! Tombstones! Nothing but graves. To my left, to my right, in front of me, around me, were graves everywhere. I sat on one of those graves because I couldn't walk anymore, my knees were now responding.

"I could hear my heart beating! And I could hear anything else. What was that A restless, restless, anonymous voice. Was it a sound emanating from my own mind in that mysterious and profound night or was it coming from under the earth, with many mysteries, in which human corpses were planted? I looked around, but I can't tell you how many times I was in that state. I was scared, helpless, scared, ready to scream, ready to die.

"Suddenly, I felt the marble slab where I was sitting start moving. Yeah Al that sounds pretty crap to me, Looks like BT aint for me either. I jumped up to the side grave and then from there I saw, yes, I clearly saw that the stone on which I was still sitting was standing upright. One of them appeared dead, a naked skeleton, pushing the tombstone upside down with his back turned upside down. I saw clearly, even though the night was quite dark. On the cross above the tomb was written: 'Sleeping here is Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. They were family-friendly, kind and humble, and died in the shelter of the Lord. '

The dead man read the inscription on his tombstone and then picked up a stone, a small, sharp stone lying on the sidewalk, and began to erase the letters on the tombstone. Gradually he erased all the text engraved on it, and then he rolled his eyes and looked exactly at the place where the text was engraved on the stone and then at the edge of his own bone, the bone which was his cinnamon, near the toe. First finger. And with that finger he was rewriting in letters that shone in the dark on the tombstone. The letters were as if something had been written on the wall from the top of the chandelier. The new text was: 'Breathing here is Jacques Olivant who died at the age of fifty-one. He mistreated his father, wanting to own his father's wealth sooner than his time, and so his father died sooner. He abused his wife, abused his children, cheated on his neighbors, robbed anyone who could rob him, and died in misery. '

The dead man finished writing his autobiography and then stood up looking at the text without moving. I looked around in panic ... then all the corpses were coming out of their graves and erasing the lies written by their relatives on the graves and instead they were carving the truth. And I saw that all these dead people were hurting their neighbors - the swindlers, the crooks, the hypocrites, the liars, the cheaters, the envious, the liars. They stole, they cheated, they did all the disgraceful things they could do, they did all the disgusting things they could do. And all these so-called good fathers, single wives, devoted sons, virtuous daughters, honest merchants, all of these now-dead men and women were said to be blameless when they were alive, called pure, and so-called spotless people entering the eternal abode after death today. While standing on ... He was writing the inscription of the truth of his life on the tombstone. The fact that he himself had been unaware of it all his life or that he had pretended to be unaware when he was alive.

"I thought my girlfriend must have written something new on his tombstone. And in the midst of all those half-opened coffins, surrounded by corpses and skeletons, I ran fearlessly, searching for his grave. I was sure I would find it right away. And ... at a glance I recognized him, without seeing his face, his face that was covered with a shroud, and on the marble cross where I had just read that 'he loved, he fell in love and died '. And now I saw: "After betraying her lover, the unfaithful went out one day, got wet from the rain, got a cold and died."

"Then they found me and I fell on the grave, unconscious."

(Finished)

Introduction to the Creator

The. Mopasa

Born: 3 August 190

Died: July 7, 19

The. Mopasa's life was short but very fruitful. His stories and novels are still a major part of French literature read around the world. The. Mopasa were rare. Writers who were very successful in their time. He remained popular, prosperous and won many honors. They never got married, a serious illness plagued them, and they died alone in a psychiatric hospital. He had an aspiration to make literature his career and through his leading literary creations he ruled the hearts of the people but the realization of that ambition also ruined him. He was fond of humor and also had fun with people. At the same time, they were very sensitive and discouraged. Emily Zola, a fellow writer, wrote: 'They were the happiest and most miserable human beings. Due to the clarity, openness, restraint and power of his writing, his readers understood it well. Readers liked it because of his deep humor and sharp satire. The. "Life is like a hillside," Mopsa said of himself. When you go upstairs you are always looking at the top of it and you are happy. But once you reach the top, you suddenly see the road going down and you see the death at the end of that road. When you go up, your speed is slow but when you go down, you go down very fast. '