Story named Moonlighting Abu Jafar Shamsuddin

1971. I don't remember the month. Not to mention, because then life was not counted as a month. Every moment had to be lived separately. No one could have imagined surviving a month or two. He was a strange unprecedented wonder of survival, not knowing what would happen in the next moment, while still alive, passing months by moments, but not being able to expand his vision beyond the vast horizon beyond the moment. There is no such thing as hope-desire-desire. Serif is alive, living. I am, I am, I am not. There is no future, therefore there is no thought or plan for the future. Survive with unadulterated perfect existence!

But there are differences between people. He sees the light of eternity even in impermanence Such a man is Abdul Hamid Master. House at a place next to Dhaka-Tangail highway. The headmaster of the village primary school. There is also some land! Fairly good condition. Soon after passing the matriculation exam and becoming a master, he fell in love with Mitali alias Hajera, the sixteenth daughter of fifth grade student Sadu Mir (recently Syed started writing). Marriage proposal if love is strong through exchange of letters. Although Sadu Mir first raised the question of family, he handed over his daughter to Hamid Master in exchange for some cash. He is about ten years old today. They have already got a few sons and daughters as a result of love. The first child was Sattu alias Abdul Aziz. There is no end to Sattu's affection, on the other hand Sattur also has no end to mischief. He does not know how to play the drums, but he throws rods in the canals, flies kites in the field, climbs on the tops of mango-jam-guava trees, eats fruits and brings coconuts from the tops of coconut trees. According to both parents, Sattu can no longer be taken. But even if they say they can't, they can't think of suppressing him, because Sattu can't be imagined without mischief! If Sattu doesn't return with one knee of dirt after turning around in the forest, then his mother will clean his feet on the table! If Sattu goes fishing in the canal-bill, he doesn't come up with mud up to his waist.

Who will take a bath. The mud is not easily cleaned in winter days. In addition to soap soda, more solid substances have to be used. After soaking a handful of straw, mother Mitali rubbed her hands and feet on her back and father Hamid slowly poured water through the vessel of Master Badna. Suddenly, if Sattu becomes a quiet boy, just goes home and school and spends his leisure time asleep, then what will Mitali and Hamid Master live with? Talking to husband and wife, especially Sholaana, will not have any content to agree on. Sometimes, however, the annoyed neighbors complain. No one rushes to ruin the fruit, when their crowned red rooster is injured by the slashing of the stalks or by the blows of the sticks, or when the ducks full of eggs die. Hamid Master and Mitali are very embarrassed. They know it is Sattu's job, but in an attempt to alleviate their son's crime, they say that boys do it like that. Many may have done it together, the rest have moved away by blaming him - whether he is a fool or not. He had never seen an innocent, immaculate baby face that could not even hit Hamid Master on the cheek. Sattu is really big and beautiful, a brighter color than her mother. One day he said the word loudly in front of his wife. Mitali says with a rebuke, boo! Look at the words. You are not the father. Sixty sixty! Mitali puts her hand on Sattu's head. However, Mitali also sometimes sneezes, especially during cooking when Sattu suddenly hugs his mother's neck from behind and sits on her back.

However, father and mother do not fail to warn Sattu every day. There is no need to go down the canal, there are snakes, horn fish can cause thorns, Ashwin Kartik may have a fever in the water, dead branches may break or legs may fall from the tree, so Sattur should stop mischief.

But these advices do not act on Sattu. He flew the lantern of life like him

Doesn’t do bad in class despite so much mischief.

He was first along and ran home as soon as the test results were announced, hanging on his mother's neck and claiming the news of his achievement: My prize. Mother Mitali kisses her son on both cheeks and says Prize! What a prize

Father?

Flute mother, the flute played by the people of that platoon. Tall as a bamboo — so is the face, so is the blow, silver work on top, like the top of a large tobacco kalka below.

Clarionet?

Clarionet! Is her name such a big mother? Yes mom, buy one like that.

Otat Baba plays English. Can you play?

I can, mother.

There is no need to be sick in the barbecula barbela, suffering a lot, even .... But on the afternoon of the twentieth day, the dried twigs of the Santava guava tree broke and the reading did not fall straight down. But that's not to say that the injury is not insignificant, Jingler's eye is stuck in the corner of his right eye. I had to pull it open. What a deadly bleeding. Mitali fit. There is no doctor in the village. For some time, a handsome young man worked as a compounder's assistant in the charity hospital of the police station and learned how to insert needles, make mixtures, tie bandages, etc. Then be the most qualified doctor in that village. When I called him, he tied a bandage on the cotton with a little Dettol and said: Master Saab, there is no treasure in his eyes. Nothing can be said, you take him to Dhaka, there is a medical college hospital, there are still private doctors. Medical college hospital! Dhaka! The day is not going well, or they

Many doctors have also been killed. Dhaka is very hot. If you see a Bengali

Punjabis shoot like birds? - Mitali says standing close to her husband's ear.

Hey shit! What a friend! All those rumors are told to Til. The noise has stopped. The newspaper is coming out. Yesterday I saw one in someone's hand in the market. Yes, Mitali. I got all the facts from him. The crowd is huge

Did the man come from Dhaka or not?

Went. He said the military was angry with the Hindus. Muslims don't say now, the first one is what hit, hit.

Was there any military meeting with the man?

Something else

Mitali did not ask so many questions. Went to Dhaka and came back. Advertisements spread on the plane that day; Muslims have no fear. People of Jamaat-e-Islami party have also spread. One of their clerics said that the Punjabis were killing infidels for the good of the Muslims. The Muslims who have died are not real Muslims, they are infidels.

But whatever you say, my mind is like that

Doing. The mind agrees to anything

Do not want to give. There is no eye doctor anywhere? Eye doctor! Say that Mitali. There is not even a doctor who has passed the LMF. Mitali is not an object of neglect, we have to go to Dhaka with her.

Mitali is necessarily silent, but her eyes widen

You don't think Sattur's mother. I am a true Muslim, I pray and fast properly. Inshallah we will not have any harm. Take off my Achkan Pajama Rumi hat, give Sattu a pajama-Punjabi and embroidered Eid hat.

Doctors are few, many have not returned, many will not be able to return to this world. The mood of the victims is not good. Fear of life at every moment. Good luck to Hamid Master, there is an eye doctor in the hospital. Not something that is serious, it can be cured by using medicine for a while, says the doctor.

The sound of a few loud explosions in the night, then almost all night long, three knots three, a sten gun brushfire, probably two inch mortars. Hamid took refuge with his son in a cheap hotel near the old station. Where father and son do not sleep. Hamid Master has never in his life heard such a loud explosion so close, not even the sound of so many bullets. The number of people in the hotel is very low. Most of the beds are empty. They do not sleep. By saying, there is a fight between the freedom fighters and the Pak army, God knows what will happen tomorrow morning. Sattu is very calm today. He repeatedly seeks refuge in his father's bosom. Hamid Master promised in his heart that the village is much better than Dhaka. Sadhe Ki and other people have left the city and gone to India.

Azan is performed in the mosque, Azan is the security guard. Hamid prayed at the Master Hotel. As soon as the sun rises, the father and son leave. Hamid Master came wearing a pajama Rumi hat and returned with the same outfit. Son Santva also wears his pajama-Punjabi hat.

Punjabi army at every turn. Punjabi troops patrolling the area with mortars. Hamid Master advises his son: Father! Takyona from side to side, hold my hand and walk downwards.

Hamid reaches the corner of Mymensingh Road through Master High Court, Curzon Hall. Vehicles are rare. You may have to walk all the way. Even so, owning one is still beyond the reach of the average person.

At each corner of the corner stood a Punjabi military bayonet with a loaded gun. Net-covered iron helmet. No one has ever seen the angel of Azrael, when you see them, it seems that they are the ones who understand - or the disciples of Azrael.

Hamid looked across the Master and saw this horrible silence in all four directions, then pressed his hat down to his ears. He also pulled his son's hat down to his ears. Pulling the hat of a pure Muslim up to the ear.

There will be, such an idea of ​​Hamid Master was born until he saw the pilgrims of Tablighi Jamaat. With that moment comes another idea, the ear-length hat means more authentic Muslims, meaning more security and safety at the military-enclosed intersection is desirable, because he has to cross the intersection through it.

Hamid Master's son Santbar was about to cross the turn holding his hand. It seems that the Sahara Desert of Africa is in front of him. The turn is squeaking. The eyes of a military gun standing in the shade of a tree in three corners. Towards the other eye-focused turn. There is no way to avoid those eyes.

Still, he has to take that turn. Because that's the only way.

Holding Sattu's left hand with his right hand, Hamid stepped on the master turn. One step one one one era. How much better it would have been if God had made the legs so long that one could cross all the distances of the bend by lifting the legs once. If he wishes, he can temporarily blind the eyes of those soldiers while crossing this horrible path. But God's mercy was on the people of the Torah and the Injil. He dried up the sea for the people of Moses. Can't he do so much kindness for his beloved Rasulullah's Ummat Hamid Master? Hamid Master thinks that the wind has also become an obstacle. Such a distance is not even a river, but he does not want to cross it, as the distance increases as he goes. Leaning forward, his body leaned forward, as if he were in his eighties. Taking the boy from right to left, using the umbrella as a stick, he wants to bring extra balls to his feet: he wants to take longer, longer steps. But nothing can force him. The gentle breeze blows like a storm and does not want to move. Oh God? What if you put me in great trouble! He said, "I ask Allah for water, but I do not lose weight." Suddenly, at the age of ninety, the image of Aurangzeb in the pages of history floated before his eyes. Did he become such a crooked body at the age of thirty-five?

The two fair-skinned faces are talking between the adolescent Punjabi soldiers. One asks the other, what is your goal?

The other person answers, "Good, I can put it in my eyes if I say it with my eyes." Exclude that guy and put it in the boy's skull?

Of course I can.

Are you willing to bet?

Yes, of course.

How much money?

Ten rupees.

And one cartoon K-two cigarette?

Okay, I'll give that too. But beware. If it leaves the skull and falls on the neck or somewhere else, but you have to pay ten rupees and a cigarette.

I will.

Then let the test.

Thunder. The gunman left the barrel of the Punjabi soldier's gun and fired. Santo Babago can't even pronounce the word. He suddenly fell from the hands of Hamid Master like a ripe fruit. Fresh blood flows at the base of the island. Hamid Master doesn't get a chance to mourn, two Punjabis come rushing towards him.

Run, infidel! Run fast!

Hamid Master once looked at his dead son and once at his chest. It is sharper than a cow slaughtering knife.

God knows where he gets so much strength from. He started running with a sigh, shouting 'Babago' like a twelve-year-old boy. His

The wings have been shown solely to give a sense of proportion. The tail on the back of Rumi's hat fluctuates like the tail of a dowel bird. The waves rose in his pajamas. The umbrella in his armpit runs like a runner. The path is that far.

She

The Punjabi soldiers picked up the two sattu and left them on the island and, smiling, returned to where they were and returned to their usual sense of duty.

Turned into wooden puppets.

Nothing new has happened in the world. A boy was just shot dead. Hamid Master did not die on the way. On the way he fell in front of many more military. With their eyes she sometimes smiled and sometimes cried,

Sometimes he ran, sometimes he walked, but no one shot him. On the second day, shortly before sunset, he returned to his hometown. But where is the village! Where is his home. The barn is just standing. But there is no big red guy. Only ashes and ashes everywhere. Old Salema Paglini is gathering food in the ashes. Eat lots. However, it is not possible to eat as much rice, because it is still rice

The smell of burning and burning rice is coming. Where is my friend? Mitali! Tell me, where is my friend? Mitali, oh Mitali, Mitali ... e! This is the first time Hamid Master has shouted fearlessly. Mitali was captured by the military. Don't take? What is Magir Gatarkhana! The mad old woman began to pick up the food again with the answer.

I hope you enjoyed reading it. More articles with this kind of stories are yet to come. Till then stay blessed, be safe, always keep smiling 😊

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