Love story part 1

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4 years ago
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Son: I love you Erie.

Eri: Do you know the slap?

- I know

- Eat?

- Who will pay?

- Me.

- Why are you late? Give it to me now.

- Aren't you ashamed?

- I'm wearing pants.

- What do you do?

- Get married.

- You should actually be given a slap.

- You can kiss if you want.

- Move from the front.

- Shall I follow?

- What do you do?

- Let's study.

- What does your father do?

- No father.

- Killed?

- No, I don't really know,

- Your mother?

- My mother died when I was born.

- Where do you live?

-Stop,

With a beggar. Now she is my mother.

- I can't love you.

- Why?

- How do I make a beggar's son my boyfriend? Fakinni's son's love hobby again !!

- All right.

- What's up?

- I won't disturb you anymore.

- Thanks.

.

I did not say anything. I left silently. In fact, love is not forced. Moreover, since I am the child of a beggar,

Therefore, thinking these things is a sin for me.

.

I am Al-Farabi. Nickname Farabi. I live in a slum in Dhaka city.

I am doing Honors in Physics at Dhaka University. I don't know who my father is. The mother died at birth. I never saw my mother like that.

I grew up with a beggar. She is my mother now. When I learned to understand something, I wrote my name in the Tokai team. My day was spent on what I got by tokai giri all day. One day some Tokai boy from the next neighborhood beat me. Then she is my mother (who I live with)

He admitted me to the school. And he used to beg.

.

After passing primary, I was admitted to high school. I was quite talented. I was always first in all classes. I also worked in a plastic factory. The money he paid was enough to feed him.

Mother used to raise money for education by begging. The days would go by fairly.

.

I could not eat very good food. I used to eat low quality rice and onion or green chillies only when my stomach was full. Sometimes my mother would bring half-eaten stale food from the dustbin to the adults.

My eyes sparkled with greed for food. I would gossip.

At the end of the meal, I would look at my mother with a sigh of satisfaction. I could see tears glistening in my mother's eyes. As soon as I looked, my mother would turn her face away.

He would wipe his eyes and hide me. Sometimes he would say, "Ba'jan, choke mane ay samasya deha diche. Khali pani pade chok diya. When will you be big abi ba'jan?

.

Comes up to my throat. I know the source of my mother's tears. I have to grow up. Too big. A lot

.

I quit my job in a plastic factory. The owner empties the pan. If anything, he talks badly about his mother. I bought a day contract rickshaw from uncle Jabed. I used to go to school during school hours. The rest of the time I used to ride a rickshaw.

.

One day a rich man's son and his girlfriend from Green Road

I was going to Rabindra Sarobar. Sitting in a rickshaw, they were calculating how much money they bought for shopping and food today. I was happy in my mind. In addition to the rent, if you want to get some bakshisao! I came to Rabindra Sarobar and said, Sir name.

The boy and his girlfriend got down. The boy handed me a ten taka note.

I said, sir, either way.

Don't pay ten more. The man slapped me on the cheek. Maybe that was the tip. The man's girlfriend said, what do you need baby?

Slapping small children? They have germs on their cheeks.

Didn't say anything. Silently shed tears. The poor are born, the mother for food.

.

We deposited a rickshaw in Jabed uncle's garage and entered our slum hut. Mother began to breathe. I sat down to eat. My SSC exam ahead. With great difficulty, my mother and I raised money for Formfilap.

I'm reading. Mom is blowing. Sometimes I look into my mother's eyes. The dream of the kingdom floats in the eyes of the mother. In that dream, the mother forgets the pain and fatigue of the whole day. And I became more indomitable as I looked into my mother's dreamy eyes. I keep reading aloud.

.

I gave SSC and HSC at one time. Got Golden Plus. He also gave pictures in magazines. When the journalist came to take pictures, he found the shirt he had bought last Ramadan with zakat money.

I wore it. The new smell has not yet left the shirt. A very beautiful picture was emerging. Maybe because of the new shirt or the expensive camera.

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