The next statesman who acted as a private tutor in the house of a millionaire in this city did not eat this afternoon.

This city is really weird, on the one hand some boys and girls run for their lives and on the other hand some varsity boys of their age get together in the world of drugs. The disco girl was sitting next to her boyfriend, smoking a cigarette. The boy hurled insults at himself and hurled a hundred insults at himself. It is not uncommon for the boy to feel so uncomfortable with washing.

Sometimes they have to be laughed at in the circle of friends, they have to listen to various humorous reprimands. Such as- "Boys also go to varsity and can't stand cigarette smoke !?", "Go to varsity and don't have a girlfriend ?!" Etc etc ..

The questions also come naturally because the ideal measure of smartness right now is the terms smoke, torn pants and girlfriend, with which the middle-class dreamer has nothing to do. Maybe it didn't happen, maybe those luxuries didn't take place in the thoughts of family, maybe they grow up before age, maybe in need of time.

'Cat's I'm Raymond's two thousand rupees shirt doesn't fit on them; until they see it in the showroom on the way - that's it. They walk and smile on their cheeks. Whether the shirt will go from New Market or Gulistan. They don't check-in at expensive restaurants with their friends; No rice, it's over.

Days go by, months go by, years go by; this is how their two-legged legs continue.

They are the real heroes, they are the life fighters.

Salute to these fighters