Minhaj Master is walking on a hot sun. The child is overflowing with head and saline. The sadness of sadness in the eyes of the body is clear. There is nothing in the pockets without a two-rupee note. If there is no shortage of Hazaras or what the days do not last.
In the month of December, it is not good for the people who are tired of the money. This month, the face of the country is scarcely. It is not possible to calculate the expenditure of income and expenditure. The student is not able to read such a lot. Some who come are irregular. Some parents- That is, the students of the students of intellectuals. The boy who is good in mathematics gradually becomes more and more good in other matters. Mathematics would have been an English sir if not Sir. At that time, there was a feeling of lack of inadequacy in the family.
Minhaj Master is walking fast.
He will have to earn his money. But how will he get? To whom? It is known that how many people can be borrowed from the money, they have been sold to everyone. Some days before asking for money from Pioneer Kasem of the school, Minhaj Master. Qasim, although in Pahiyan, in this city of Chittagong he has a few bigha land in his name. There is also a landlord like Kasem custom.
Kasem.
Yes, sir.
How much salary do you pay?
Can? Sir
Minhaj Master knows how much his salary. But I want to hear from him very, A-rablna.
Sir, five thousand, five thousand five.
Qasem gets more than three times the salary. But there is a lack of problems in the world. Just how five thousand five hundred beta? Scared in fear. Said Minhaj Master.
Yes, Sir.Bow, I'm fine with two boys and girls. Renting a few rooms in Semipakaka on the top of the hill level. I am fine with all the mills. Cancers?
No, I asked. The tea-biscuits Khas with fifty percent of the money.
Qasim, who took a note of fifty rupees, took off the note with a long salam.
Minhaj Master has long been thinking that Baseril is in the office room. In his mouth, he takes his own blood. He used to speak with Kasem on behalf of the needy. And when he said, then only what was the need to pay only. When he could not So it does not mean that. To him, fifty taka is now a huge number.
The wife's dirty talk is still in the ears.
Men are worthless without money.After all.People can not tolerate all the testosterone tyrants can bear. But Minhaj is digesting the slander for his own ability.
Just like Itoo. The men are spineless without money. The wife did not fulfill her wish for this money. So, in her two words, Minhaj Master went silent. Tardu heard that she heard that she had been tired of her hair. In fact, the wives of the family were shouting a little It is normal to be shouting. They are naturally occurring; wrinkled, lip-shaped.
Minhaj Master in the glasses eye is seen fluttering. The atmosphere of the morning is like a sultry. The power of the glasses does not work at the age of the actors. It is not enough to think about the girl's nasalira. The head became cynic. The mother was not like the mother. Listen to the words of hope in the background, father, see how many days of the Master's work is finished. You do not have to worry so much.
At the corner of the eyes of Minhaj Master, the point point is to make the water glitter. She says that the mother does not want to serve you. She can give her a good hand in hand, comfort, self-control.
That's the father's fault for all your parents. If you are a little bigger, then thinking about doing it after him. What a boy is a good woman for saying ... Like a baby girl, the khill bursts and laughs; Do not tell dad not I understand; Doing business. Duties. After that, understand.
Minhaj Master Rashwari says, looking at the huge sky with the gap in the window; People do not have to learn many things in the world. He teaches time and time in his hands.
Father, father, sometimes you feel better if you are a poet or writer without a teacher.
Stay there, keep your mother. It's going to run in the market at twelve o'clock. If there is a poet, a writer ... there is no word.
What he said Humayun Ahmed is not writing leaving the teaching.
How many people can be Humayun Ahmed?
If you try, you will be able to have your art art.
Humayun Ahmed you read?
I used to read before.
-now ?
Read it now but less. Nakami takes it. It's good to read his writing. But at the end of the writing head does not find anything in the head.
Minhaj Master smiled to laugh at the words of the girl. Now tell me, if I do not write my father's father, how will I be like a father?
- Well, Badge. Akhtaruzzaman Ilias, Shahed Ali, Shawkat Osman could not be from Humayun Ahmed.
Have you read their biography? How much you know about poet Jibanananda Das Which is my head tuckenacha now. He passed his life through hardships, but in the letter of Saturday he wrote the poems. He wrote the poems of Ruposhi Bangla poetry under the title of Goddess. No one is afraid to say this again, he is writing poetry in the style of Jasim Uddin.
Hmm, I know Dad. After the death of the book, the book is published.
If God sent me with the power or the intellectual power of writing. I would not have called him. I was the writer. The teacher did not live. The person lives in the words and people live in the writing. He does not want to live.
No, my father will not do anything to you. You're my father. This is my strength. The elbow of the right arm breaks high.
Mother, take pride in your father. I thought, I would ask the girl. Not at all, she did not do anything to boast about her. Unknowingly, some lines of Abul Hassan's poems, we gave half an hour to our lives and we ended up with the production of children.
Minhaj Master stood on a walk, walking to the side. What is it? Who?
-Sir I.As a young man of age, all the warriors have come in front of him.
As soon as the boy was standing, the heat of the heat became dull. Kebab
-Sir, I'm your student Ashek, Mohammad Ashek Ali Sir, you can not recognize me.
-Ashike Ali, how big is that? How are you father?
-Well Sir.You have been very dry.
- How many days. Where are you father now?
Sir, I am in a private company. Now I came to America with Scholar Ship last month.
Minhaj Master suddenly got money in the meaningless world.
-Sir, how are you?
Well, at the University of Chittagong, Masters reading in social science.
Asked for some money from the boy-boycott. The foreign expatriate, in the pocket, is going around with a stiff dollar. And he is not taking it for a while, only take a loan for a few days.
-Baba, hesitated, Minhaj Master screamed. The stomach broke down in the stomach.
-G, sir?
No, that is Ashake Ali. I have an urgent job. I will go very far. Then, she started.
Walking without end.
