My Own People
(A short story)

When I woke up in the morning, it was very cold and shivering. The sky was misty and cloudy. The previous night, it had rained. The stinging and biting wind was still blowing with the ferocious speed. It seemed that we did not live in plain, but in mountains. This year’s winter had proved fatal. Many old and ill had been perished. My one of the close relatives had also seen death very lately.
For the last fifteen days, not for a single moment, the sun had shown its face. Most of the time, people would love to sit before some bonfire to prevent themselves from catching cold or wrapped in blankets to keep the biting weather at bay.
I was also among them who was very disturbed and tormented at this sudden change of weather. I had an operation last month. A deep wound on my buttock had snatched my peace of mind. First, it appeared as a small pimple, but, later on, it grew ferociously at the menacing speed. When I went to the doctor to get it checked, after thorough examination, he said that you would need an operation to pump out the suppuration and puss from inside. It had taken its root quite deep and if you did not pay heed to it, it would turn cancerous.
It was enough to jolt me to the core. The very next day, I went to see him again and asked him to operate. And he did it in a few hours.
However, the wound had started healing, but the pain was still there. It would not leave me for a second. Even at the slightest movement of my body, I would