The melodious Srinalinikanta government
My friend! Paramatman! Sad-happy partner!
Morning Lovell in the middle of you is my whale night.
Got more to ask - friends, relatives, loved ones,
Got friends - didn't get people, didn't get generous minds.
Shire's disgust of disbelief rained down all around,
I lost my way - you came in the dark and caught the water.
You have become a companion with tears, you have shared a part of laughter,
Heaven is in my grasp then red affection.
The river of laughter flows in your alley of tears and snow,
Flowers and crops have turned green Pahartali of pain!
You have barely laughed without you, O poet, O beautiful;
I heard the foam of laughter, then the murmur of tears!
The stream that flows beside your laughter,
Anjali Dinu of tears, ‘Bandhan-Hara’ at Laho.
24 Shravan 1334.
January 20 (Evening)
Or are you too arrogant to speak my mind? And that's why I haven't written a letter for so long? I feel as if I am lying on the shores of the Arab-Indus in this distant Indus, but I have nothing left to know! Understand, wireless messenger in my hand!
I thought, - worldly man, I have not taken the time to give letters to the beggar in the rush of work, and therefore I do not think it necessary to speak loudly; But the angel of this servant did not even know that this incident was sitting on the floor! - If I had known that shraddha would go so far, I would have kept it up to the yard!
I don't know if I am the 'stubborn Govinda' of the platoon, but now I see that you too have started drinking water by drowning! The only thing I want to sing today is the song that you just want to sing to Bhabi-saheba (aka Bhavadiya Ardhangini) -
What is the standard today?
With value-arrogance floating
Let's go to the middle of the grove.
Yes, - Bhabisahebao has not given me a letter for fifteen days today. Whether the husband's half-sister!
One of your little letters a month ago - yes, it will be about a month! - I don't remember now how many random ashes I sent before going to the parade the day after I got it. I was in a bad mood that day, because I was just relieved to be on duty! After that he had to go to a place called 'Deragazi Khan' to catch some fugitive soldiers. In the midst of all this ha-ya-ba-ra-l, is another letter written, brother? You or less? This is a small excuse to resort to silence! I see this is not bad.
I don't know today that you have written to Manu that I have come to the 'military line' and become as stubborn as the Goras. As I said before, wireless messenger O, all those wireless messenger messages!
When you have accused me of being a woodpecker, you have to prove that my heart is not as hard as a wooden stick or a broken bamboo tube. I would have rolled up my sleeves and said 'Juddang Dehi' for a long time if it wasn't far away; But when there is no possibility of catching you from such a distance and giving you a ‘dhobi achar’, then a masiyuddha is appropriate. That is why I am proudly calling you to fight with a ten-handed swollen chest and an unmistakable musilypta hand - ‘Juddhang Dehi!’
According to you, I can become a woodpecker, but it is known that when I get hurt on the woodpecker, it makes a sobbing sound, as if someone had just hit the dry bone of my chest with a hammer. For a ‘fresh tender meatball’ like you, it’s not at all impossible to feel that way, but what an impossible book!
Other than that, you know a lot about what you are so stubborn, so arrogant to know. On top of that, you want to know the innermost word of the deepest province of my heart, that's exactly what you're saying. - Well, brother Rabu, let me say one thing here, don't worry!
More than the pride of your arrogance, no, I am still afraid of the humiliation of exposing a sacred memory hidden in the deepest part of my ribbed heart. You tell me brother, what should be done!
Well brother, the oyster that wants nothing more, just a small pearl hiding in the secret corner of the heart and wants to sink itself under the abyssal sea, what a stupid blind desire you have to see that hidden pearl by lifting him up and tearing his chest! What a ruthless curiosity you have!
Let's answer soon. Order to give a letter to Bhabisaheba, or I will write to Bhabisaheba to order you to write a letter.
What's wrong with the girl? It is a great pleasure to see him. … Should Sophia still be indifferent to marriage? Like you Bholanath, mother too! I am so angry!
Don't worry about me. I am as comfortable as Divya Kishkindha's Lobab. There are too many parades these days. Whether to call after two days! I have passed the bayonet battle from Pune. Now if I could show you these hard muscles of mine!
You see, what a beautiful work of the military department? Here, in every word, the Habildarjis are shouting, ‘Be lightning fast. - Well done young man! '
Come on now. ‘Roll-call’ means whether it is time to attend. Belts, bandoliers, boots, belts (the name of our armor in these huts) should be kept clean and tidy as per the procedure. Tomorrow morning ten miles of ‘Route March’ or Hunton on foot.
- It's over
Your ‘Katkhotta Laduye’ friend
January 21 (morning)
Karachi is feeling so beautiful today, what more can I say! Do you know what happened?
After a torrential downpour all night yesterday, the naked nature here, at dawn, swells calmly - as if Lakshmi's wet hair is lying on her back and sitting on her back to the sun! The fact that this girl was the one who managed to turn the creation in the image of Bhairabi a little while ago, is not understood at all by looking at her simple face now. Now, Divya is looking at her sky blue color with her eyes fixed on the pink-blue sky and looking at her with a serious bored look. And the wet straight hair is still dripping with a drop or two of water, and the touch of the blood of the newcomer Arun makes them glisten like tears on the cheeks of the beauty! But no matter how beautiful I look, this serious simplicity and indifferent indifference of hers is so unfamiliar to me that I can't help but smile. Understand the perch thing; - Clouds gathered in the clouds, a bone-cracking concave wind over him; The Karachi-Buri has been trembling all night in the barren desert by the sea, and now this quiet-polite girl is pouring rain after rain on her head. The roar of the thunder made the beggar even more frightened; Bijuri's lightning bolt was dazzled and his companion Unmadini laughed hoarsely. Then, as soon as you wake up in the morning, this goddess is calm and polite, as if you don't know anything else! Tell me, brother, who does not smile? And this is a very inconsistent kind of inconsistency? I remember a couple of girls of this nature. Dapadapi, a very 'Zandereli' group, had a violent head injury, and suddenly a 'philosopher's distraction' came to his mind. For Chhabla, it became a matter of great criticism. I don't dare to speak more against such naughty girls; Because - whether I understand this or not - I still haven't had a 'good eye'. The future can not be called brother! The poet sang, - (Sanskrit by Matka) -
In the world of love,
Who knows when to ride!
Therefore, in this place, in my Sundari-Guna-Kirtan, ‘Fullstop’, - full stop!
Your eyes may have become a tree for so long after hearing all this delusion like this foolish cow-head of mine, you are getting annoyed as usual! No? - It has to happen! This is my nature. I'm talking so much nonsense that people are just annoyed with it, it's just a matter of polite application!
Let's talk nonsense now. What was I saying? The calm gaze of the sky this morning has made me desperate. On top of that our kind Naqib (bugler) Mr. Gupichandar just played ‘No Parade’ (there is no parade today). So the soul is supposed to be as generous as today's sky by overcoming all the cravings in a sudden-found joy! So we blessed Gupi with all our might, raising all four arms and legs. Will he hear the blessing? ‘Ashirbadang shirchhedang bansanasang astanga dhabal kusthang pure marang. Growing up and having fun, but brother.
What a joy it would have been to have our school suddenly shut down because of the rain! The high ho-ho roll of the boys on the school grounds, the deadly race towards the boarding school while playing with the water in the street, the irrational argument on the boarding superintendent's face about the essence and benefits of such a 'rainy day'. Laugh, - Ah, what a happy day he is gone! Those sweet lost days will never come back for anything in the world. The fact that there is no sweet life like student life is especially understood when student life is past, and his sweet painful memory suddenly wakes up in the midst of turbulent life.
From this morning onwards, as if a fountain of songs has opened in the room next to me (in the quarters), as many songs of Meghmalla's Ragini are in stock, no one is failing to sing today. Someone is pretending to be a master, - 'Today Badri Barikhere Jhamjham!' Someone is chanting in Kaloati rice, - 'Where are you, friend, Badre!' - It is raining in the opposite month in this country Once again, Kabati is singing to the tune of 'Chum', - 'A bhara badar, mah bhadar, shunya mandir mor.' At the end of all, the serious melodious voice of Habildar Pandemshai sang, - Suddenly my latent wound rang like a pain! I can't say for sure whether Mr. Habildar has a sweet-eyed-kajal-eyed lover, and whether he remembers such a pair of eyes just by looking at this 'green dense blue sky' today, but I just felt like the hidden words of my heart. With the language of that song, this cloud was melting in the pain of the melody. I was surprised to hear,
Herria green in the dense blue sky
I think Sajal Kajal's eyes fell.
Lips full of mercy,
Heria green in the thick blue sky.
The water gushes, the water gushes,
The wind is blowing in the forest with crazy songs.
In my paranapute
Where there is pain,
In the corner of the heart,
Heria green in the thick blue sky.
The song is, at the same time, two or four understanding tables, books, beds that are in front of you, so they are beating relentlessly. One is like the sculpted ‘Betal Panchabingsati!’ And the other one is imitated by Gopal Roy in a more savory way - ‘Dada Gai Dekhrse, Goru Te Ki Dekhse; Dakha Thakuddar's marriage, with Dhuchni Mathbaya; - Dad, Pat Gallere, Shaotor Ki Hall Re 'etc. are constantly chanting sweet words. As much as the words are moving, the head-hands-feet-face is moving more than the unusual kind! The song was sung two or three times for the sake of 'Angkor Please' - 'Fin Juro' etc. Then, as soon as Sam's head was hit, a huge voice crossed the boundaries of his colorful voice, 'Wash the cow's body! - Let your son's father die, brother! If you die, you will live, father! 'Immediately, a horrible orgy dance with booty-wearing feet! - Even though a lot of the sweetness of the song has been lost in their fierce understanding, it seems like it is another student life of ours. An unbroken great pleasure is always dancing here. Those who will die tomorrow have so many life-filled smiles on their faces.
My ears are still ringing -
- I remember reading
Lips full of mercy,
And so where is the pain in my paranapute, and whose words are ringing in the corner of my heart.
I just sit in my solitary room and think, who is playing this ‘huge message in such a desperate melody’, so that the words of hundreds of miserable souls like me, the pain of the heart become so painful and float in front of the idol? Ogo, who is the greatest poet whose two inks scratch the dormant pain in the chest of the world? Pulling out of the darkness of oblivion, the most miserable memory of the beloved is written on the back of the heart and written at the end of the fire? Half-forgotten, half-remembered, the shameful blood of that old affection is forever renewed. Who is he? - Let this huge message of his be printed in the world, let the melody of the melody flow in his world! At his feet, millions of greetings!
The memory of silently staring at the 'farewell moment' moved my whole heart to such an extent that my eyes were filled with thirty-two pulses. Brother Manu, I am saddened by those cruel memories of the old days! It seems that water will fall again and again. There is no place to catch this sky-broken anxious stream.
A group of black clouds from behind the mountain in the sky again! And I can't see the paper, everything is getting blurry.
Yeah Al that sounds pretty crap to me, Looks like BT aint for me either. After singing for a while in the morning, in the afternoon the mind feels quite light.
The letter became a little longer and wider. What I do is, when I sit down to write, I just want to write all the words of my heart, which I might be reluctant to say. But where can I do everything? Everything about me is like a shadow.