Self-talk of rural Bengal

7 23

Written by

All is well

3 years ago

In community: Bengali people(95ce)

Dear friends,

Good evening. I hope all of you spending good time. I am also good by your blessing. This is for your kind information that now i m gonna share about self-talk of rural bengal.

I am a Bengali. I was born in the land of Bengal. I love my country. As a result of many sacrifices we have got an independent state. I am able to express my opinion freely.

I am proud to be born in this country. Bengalis are called Bengalis in fish and rice.

So let's start....

I am a 'village. In 1971, I was hit by a barrage of ammunition and cannons. Fresh blood from the chests of countless people, human corpses and the dead bodies of animals and birds flowed over my small chest and melted into my soft soil. The houses of the village were burnt to ashes by the flames of the fire of the invading forces. I stood alone in silence, almost deserted. I have been watching these heartbreaking scenes and bloody Holi games for nine-nine months in a row. Thanks to the infinite grace of the Creator, Bangladesh became independent on December 16, 1971 and in that capacity I and Bangladesh became known as a 'village'.

In the beginning, it started with a few simple farming families and a few small houses. I was surrounded by open crop fields, the house was surrounded by colorful and fruit trees of Rangberang, each family had a field full of paddy, a pond full of fish, a barn full of cows, a lake full of fish, various species of wings on the trees. -Pakhali free roaming. The murmur of the river, the open air of the open field, the swaying of the green leaves of the trees, the cool breeze of peace and the realm of Maya made me much closer to you. How many wise and talented artists have gained fame and fortune by describing the beauty of the village. Wow! It seemed that I was interested in understanding the new country as a new village.

The simple people living in 'Ami Gram' did not have a lot of money or wealth, but they were living very happily. The peasants used to eat pantabhat in the morning and go to work. Little boys and girls used to play various games in the field with joy in their minds. Cows and goats grazed all day in the green open field and returned to the barn at dusk after blowing dust. In the evenings, the women would gather and sit down for gossip and sing sweet melodies in the chorus. On a moonlit night, the boys would get together and play ha-du-du in a dusty field. At night, the melody of the Jatra song enchanted the weary people with joy and entertainment. Happiness and sorrow in danger, shoulder to shoulder together, as if everyone was a family.

But as a rule, the number of small families increased day by day and 'I am from the village, the black night of the real new moon descended on me. More and more people started cultivating the land by bringing seeds of different species from abroad to procure food and also free use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides in the land. Just as the soft soil of the field began to burn on the one hand due to the radioactivity of fertilizers and poisonous drugs, the fish on the other side of the lake gradually became empty and the biodiversity was lost. Eat! What sweet sweet fruit trees, beautiful flowering trees, shady trees surrounded by green leafy canopies, filling ponds and ponds, everyone was stunned to build new buildings on my soft loamy soil. In the name of development, high and low brick roads have been torn apart in my chest, driven out of the city, trucks, tractors and buses have been pounding on my ribs like giant monsters.

Now the electric line has come again, the dis line has come again, now the boys and girls do not play hadudu or kana fly like before, the wife Jhira does not sit in the yard by lighting the cupi lamp and sing captivating songs. Young and old, young and old, the simple bride of the village, all of them nowadays watch and listen to Dum Damakka dances in all languages, whether it is Indo-Hindi or English. Lost 'I am the village, that chirping shape, shape, delightful beauty and tradition. 'I have become one village, I have merged with other villages, I am no more. There is no other Joe to think of me separately. I am now in a state of despair in the village. The way I lost my balance (God forbid) at any moment I could be drowned forever by the shock of a small earthquake. So the fear arises again and again, soon my name may be extinct and the new generation may one day find in the pages of history the autobiography of my birth, tradition and end.