I remember that song of Nachiketa ..... white socks school uniform in red, notar siren signal, less attention in syllabus "
In this city of bloodshed, there was love at that time, Nilanjana on the radio - Bella Bose used to spread love in the lazy afternoon of school and college, she is my old city, wrapped in love. She's my own city, she's slow-moving.
Even then, there were phone booths, at the corners of the neighborhood, talking to lovers in glass-enclosed boxes
"Stand in front of the lamppost at the end of evening tuition. See you when you play football. How are you?"
Now he is not insane in the relationship sip status of Facebook, no waiting for that text message !,
“On the warmest day in the city the pitch throat is sunny, the rain believes
I gave it to you today ":
The wheels of the age turn, the streets of the city remain the same, movie posters hang on the walls, the heroes change and now they are just modern.
Now I just see the procession, the revolution, the movement, I see the separation, I see the deception, the people are not good, I can't recognize the city.
"I'm just like I was before, just no one understands my mind, doesn't love like before"
The city of modernity, mine
My city is baton-charged,
Artificiality in my city,
Yet my city is good
Location: Bandar Bazar, Sylhet (198)