Black Buriganga is blowing. After the evening with the child, Tridib came and stood here. Even in the middle. Sutrapur, Farashganj, BK Das Road, Ultinning Lane Ghat. Sharshina Sa Mill, Farashganj Kasht Bitan, Medina Timber কত how many such shops are left on both sides of the road and the workers have a complete leisure time in Ekchil. Easy body itching, hi lifting, open air bath with Cosco soap. In the meanwhile, the basic desire of clove-cardamom comes from the spice market as soon as the rickshaw tumbles, the yellow-chilli of Shyambazar sneezes in the nose. Meanwhile, the mantra-chorus of Shani Puja with the evening call to prayer. Surbhi 6, who left the port, went to the palm of a wide Jiu temple and blew his trumpet. The baby in Tridib's lap squirmed, feeling as if he was about to fall into the black water. The trawler of sand sinking almost like Noah's ark on the water is like going to eternity. There is no sound in the baby's mouth, there is a chatter. This side is now a busy road. After a while, the jeeps flew towards Postagola. The cellphone with Tridib rang. Tridib took the phone out of his pocket and saw Dipar's phone. Deepa is the wife of Tridib. Nipat housewife. All his immersion in the family. In the evening some children come to read to him. And at the same time, Tridib walks around with his son Nemo. The 600-square-foot, two-room house has little space, including 6-7 people, including the Guardian. Deepa's phone means she needs something. Sometimes sour yogurt, sometimes lemon. Tridib puts the phone in silent mode and sits on a tool in a tea shop. He ordered a cup of sugar-free red tea. And with that in mind, a laminated A-Four on the wall of the tong shop reads in large letters, ‘The rest is closed from today’. Tridib felt quite uncomfortable and rude after reading the article. He finds no cause for this suppressed discomfort. He remembers seeing a kind of bound picture in a grocery store as a child, where the rhyme read, "Rice in the stomach for cash, hand in hand for the rest." ’With two illustrations, one of which was of a man with a belly like Ganesha sitting down to eat with a plate full of rice, and the other of a slender man sitting with his hands on his head in front of an empty plate, who may have become destitute at some point. Even within those drawn and written instructions, Tridib seems to find a lost melody somewhere. That day he saw such a strange advertisement in another shop in Dayaganj Bazar, in which it was written, ‘Pure cow and camel milk is available here. ’ ‘Pure cow’s milk’ and ‘pure cow’s milk’ — can these two sentences mean two things? On the way back to the market, Tridib thought a lot about it. So, is the cow pure or is the milk pure? What's the answer? There is a complex puzzle like the difference between responsibility and duty. ‘This lawn tea. ‘Tong shop offers tea to Tridib. ‘Did you give it without sugar? Says Tridib. The shopkeeper smiles with red teeth. That means gave sugar. ‘Well, okay. ’ Tridib looked at the writing on the paper again as he sipped his tea. The bitter taste of the tea breaks his immersion. Nemo pointed to the packet of chips in the store a few times. Even if he wants to avoid it, he has to buy a chip. ‘Are you the Nikki of this neighborhood? Says the shopkeeper ‘Oops. Narinder. ’ ‘So what’s the point of henna? I see almost the same, he stays upright. ’ ‘So, where else can I go with the baby, let’s go for a walk along the river. ’ ‘Smell this guy? Ha ha ha. ’ ‘Where else to go? Tridib says while sipping tea. ‘Yeah, that’s right Kaichen, Mathmut is no more Nikka, I was going to take possession of the sunny Aita V Flyover Usila, I will come to a park in Huntachi Hone again. ’ ‘I hear that too. ’ Nemo stands at Tridib's feet and sees the light of the launch. Even sitting on the tool is not a relief for Tridib. His body is not going well since yesterday. The result of pressure
nice