In this Dhaka city those who have moneyhave itthose who don’t have it; nothing. They will eat during the dayeat at night and save some and eat in the morning.

If for any reason all the street ghat shops in Dhaka City are closed; thousands of day laborers, many bachelor students will have to die without eating.

If the country is infected with any infection, the people of this country will not forbid the boy‘s tutor to come and doesn’t do. Not seen, their stem-factories increase. In that case, a person would do what you and I used to dotake risks and go to regular tuition and save money at the end of the month.

And the day the virus gives a person a chance to leave everything behind and return home, it is better to return home than to be bitten by mosquitoes and the foul smell of the sewers from the food-deprived area of  Dhaka. Yours and mine Believe it or not.

These are the people who have united to leave Dhaka; all of them came home alone and quietly on the dock. But they never seem to think that hundreds of other people will join hands.

You believe in religion. You know the Quran. You understand philosophy, you understand geography, you understand Mughals; people do not understand – then what will happen to know your religion? Will you purify the impure Maha-bharata?

You are laughing, jumping; being beaten is your demonic pleasure; did you know that the beaten man was looking for a loophole if he can earn some money today, if the arrears of the salary are available from the masterif he goes home, if the grocer of that neighborhood gives the leftover rice, then his family will eat and live? He agrees to die from the virus, but he can’t watch his family die without eating.

On the way to this city, as many children on the sidewalks, picking up paper, surviving flowers – if you look for their fatheryou will see that he has gone with another body. If you look for your motheryou will see that she has gone with another worse; or any other problem. They are chaotic; no houseno house; there is a sky just above the head when sleep comes to sleep where it is.

Many of those who have won love by buying flowers from their TCS will know Cynthia Minthia by name. As beautiful as they look, their life is adorable but just the opposite. Sometimes you can see them at TCS even at three o’clock in the night if you don’t earn breakfast.

This is the rickshaw puller, laborer, Cynthia Minthia; the little boys and girls at Kamlapur or Chittagong stationRaim uncle, Kafir’s uncle of Tong; they have no sacks of riceno oilno warehouses for food like us; the biggest thing is no money. They will hit, we will laugh.

They have no Android mobile, no computer; they have no Facebook instar; your awareness writing is not reaching their ears.

They are called donkey bulls, idiots. But those who are wise, know the religion, the Qur’ans means – they do not verify what they share and endanger people, none of them say anything? Because they are in BUET, DU, BRAC students, or NSU leaders.

Nature is a rule. She will give everyone the right to love, but nature does not give anyone the right to hurt in any way. Nature will one day repay the debt of those who cause unnecessary harm. ‘

Not hurtingnot hurting anyone anymore, not anything dirty, let‘s all go down the drain.

Forgetting everything again, one day you and I will meet again. The man I tried to get away with a little bit of arrogance after massaging the last few days ago; if I go to see the sky, one day I will take him too. I thought I‘d go see the sea first as soon as I got off the closed house. I will get on the boat for half an hour. One day the chat will be jammed again. Talk to you soon. I will wait for someone to come with a sip of tea. I will put my hand on my shoulder in the endangered depressing smoke of someone’s cigarette and hear a message of hope. When I return to TSCI will order molasses tea for ten cups at a time. When I return to TSC one dayI will sing; The song of coming back, the song of staying that way. After going to TSC, one day I will wait for someone dear with flowers again.

When the grief in the village of the sky is soaked in the rain, one day you and I will meet again. On that day I will bring roses. There will be a yellow envelope in the chest pocket. The sun will cover everything. I will see the sky one day. How long have I not seen the sky … How long have you?

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