There was a boy who used to work in a small hotel, in a town. His boss often abused him even in a little mistake. He had no fate to have a square meal a day. Whenever cruelly beaten up, he used to go up to an old tree of nearby the hotel. There he cried quietly expressing his hidden sorrows to the tree. He showed his burnt skin of hands, marks of sticks on his legs and marks of fingers on his cheeks. There, he screamed many times, asking where about of his mother.

While washing the hotel’s big cooking pots and utensils, he expressed his feelings to himself, “The story of these poor pots and my story is similar—every day even being burnt on the fire cannot cry. If my mother were here, I would cry on her lap telling their story!”

One day, his boss, again, beat him without any fault of him. After completing his assigned works, he quietly ran up to the old tree, but when he reached there, he could not find the tree. The tree was already taken by the municipality department, to a mill. So not finding the tree, he cried long kneeling before the remaining of the tree.

After sometimes, he wiped off the falling tears of his eyes then walked straight away from there. That a whole day, the cooking pots and utensils of the hotel waited for him, but he never returned.

My suggestion:
In a town, there lived a boy who used to work in a small hotel. His boss would often abuse him even for the smallest error. The boy had no fate to even have a square meal a day. Whenever he was beaten up cruelly, he would go up to an old tree, nearby the hotel and would cry quietly expressing his hidden sorrows to the tree. He would show to the tree, his burnt skin of his hands, marks of sticks on his legs and marks of fingers on his cheeks. He would scream several times, asking whereabouts of his mother, long gone.
While washing the big pots and the utensils of the hotel, he would often think to himself, ‘The stories of these lifeless pots and mine are the same, every day we burn in fire but cannot really cry. If my mother were here, I would have cried on her lap telling all my stories!”.
One day, his boss beat him again for no apparent reason. That day, after finishing off his assigned tasks, the boy quietly ran up to the same tree. To his dismay, when he reached there, the tree was nowhere to be seen. It so happened that the tree was already taken by the municipality truck to the mill. Not finding the beloved tree of his, the boy cried for long kneeling before its remaining.
Sometime after, he wiped off his tears from his face and walked straight away from there. That whole day, the cooking pots and the utensils, they all waited for him for the longest time, but he never returned.

धन्यबाद, धेरै समय खर्चेर ब्यकारण मिलाई दिनु भएकोमा, कति कुरा नमिलेकै राम्रो हुन्छ जस्तै तपाई र हाम्रो लोगन परिवारको सम्बन्ध । मैले यहाँ येसोरी नेपान्ग्रेजीमा लेख्नु को केहि अर्थ छ , तर पढ्ने , बुझ्ने र लेख्ने धैरेता धरैमा बिलाई सक्यो ।

यो त साहित्य भन्दा  पनि सत्य घटना मा आधारित जस्तो हाम्लाई लागेको थियो