Let's be Fair


I have a feeling to change the world,

to write a new narrative.

The foundation of history has been laid wrong;

and you writers aren't helping matters.

If God gave you the ability to write, it isn't for you to put up your emotions, or lay out your complains,

it isn't even about what you like or not.

It was never about you,


Writing isn't about depression or anger or pain, neither is it troubles.

If God gave you the ability to write, then it means he trust you enough with the power to change and mold history,

for you to actually make the better difference.

Not for you to keep feeding his sheep with depression letters, and suicidal notes.

Telling them how you feel or what life's about!


You would be on the wrong course if you refuse to do the right thing; Words are power and Life. Each one wasted is a life gone, and each one played with, is causing agony on another.


I couldn't continue my writer's carrier, cause i began to see that everyone i worked with where either depressed or suicidal.

An upcoming psychopath or a full blown one. And that's wrong, very very wrong. Now! i don't even know if writers are solving problems or if are actually the one causing it. cause they keep feeding the depressed people with more depression and the lonely ones with more loneliness yet when they commit suicide you say that no one reached them. No! God actually thought someone reached them. It's just that the 'Person' -in quote. that was to reached them played the wrong role.


So dear follow people, if you are facing any challenges... Go! treat yourself, become better, be victorious. Cause writers aren't depressed people. 


If you are depressed and write, doesn't mean you are a writer. You might just be a mentally disabled person who has too much words banging in his head. And trust me, that doesn't make you a writer, Cause demons are the ones who shouts in people's mind.


Published by: Robin Hossain

**Education**


Education u are my life 

Because you change my life 

I was nothing before 

But nw I'm something 


I was poor before  I got education 

But now I'm rich because of you education 

You make my life very easy 

Cause I cn do whatever I like 

Jst because of you education 


You make me happy 

Because you take me out of poverty 

You made my dream come true

Because at present I Know how to read and write 


Now I'm a better person in my community 

Because I hv education that no one Can take it away from me


That is why Dr Nelson Mandela says education 

Is the weapon that we can use to change our lives

And with education we can fight against poverty 

It is true with education life is so easy.


Published by: Robin Hossain

**Bloody Money**


I rather be poor and happy than wealthy and unhappy 

Seems like money solves problems society said 

But why is it more money more problems 

I hope you all know it’s a mindset 

It’s a mental thing

Money doesn’t define who you are 

Money doesn’t bring happiness 

Money doesn’t make people stay in your life 

Money is just a tool we all used and abused

Just wonder all those who lost their life

From making fast money 

Or those who thought money was cool

now their on news topic because they were murder due to money 

So remind yourself the value of a dollar before it’s too late 

Because money will always be dirty and bloody. 


Published by: Robin Hossain

**Let's love our mothers**


What's glitters are better of gold's.

Who else loves pure unconditional and bold.

So brave nervy audacious to take down your flaws.

Expecting no damn pay nor applause.


Who else can hear the pains in your mind.

Going through nisus, striving for solutions every kind.

Whose treasure is our happiness, our Felicity holds her spirit.

That her caring heart has taken our challenges as orbit.


Offering her breast were manners and love gets suckled.

Teaching unveiling truths from her steps,lessening toughs, getting future no wrinkled.

Sacrificing her beauty for our existence.

With a heart wealthy with love in affluence.


Let's glorify God for creating such Angelic beauty on earth.

Her prestigious care been available since birth.

Let's love our mothers.

Because she's a treasure you can't barter for another.


Published by: Robin Hossain

**Love Breaks Through**


Love breaks through barriers, often unexpected and unknown 

Days of forced isolation, there is time to reflect while I’m alone


Taking me on a journey to the past, when our love flourished fresh and new

Our love would kindle and burn, can you still smell my sweet perfume 


Do you think of me at times, and find joy in what we once had 

Or do you sometimes curse my memory, does the thought of me make you sad


Thoughts of you creep into my mind, really more than I wish to say

For soon after you left, you found love, where you once harbored me to stay 


We once talked of plans of a future,

a true modern day fairytale

Then you turned your back on us, our love did then plummet and fail


Does she now swoon and moan, under the spell of your gentle caress 

Is the love that you share comparable to ours, do you love her more or less


Be sincere and loyal to her, let your love and affection not wane

Always look at her with utter adoration, let not your love turn to distain 


Someday perhaps I will find love again, feelings no longer stagnant, but new

Allow myself to feel love again....let go and let love break through.


Published by: Robin Hossain

**SECRET**


Want to know a secret?

Let me choose which one to tell.

I will grace you with the truth.

I just need my strength to sell.

I am cursed with the worst of 'd's.

Destructive, damaged, deadly.

I am drained.

I am stained.

I can't say out loud.

I've made peace with it.

But not with my spirit.

It seeks a chance to leave.

When it gets hard to breathe.

The walls keep closing in.

The caged heart stops its beat.

My soul is punctured.

But still I choose.

On whom, life I would ooze.

Makes me a hypocrite. 

For not believing my own words.

Yet I sell my strength and grit.

Show others, it is a beautiful world.

I keep a secret from them all.

I point out colors of life for others.

But I am colorblind from within.

Without senses and recognition.

I am a disease.

Of a severe condition. 

Destroyed is such a secret.

Where I admit I am not living. 

I am just a shallow surface.

Smiling and covered over the dead.

Are you sure you want to know my secret?

I don't have much to tell.

Just a tale of devoid.

Trying my strength to sell.


Published by:  Robin Hossain

**Sacrifice**


Who am I to judge you 

When I have no strength to fight 

Who I am to judge you

Knowing I can't find a perfect time

Who am I to judge you

Well all you did was to make me strong


I fell in love with all of you

But now I can't the cold dew that falls on us

Who am I to judge you

Even when I call you seems different

I tried to please you

Still am not enough for both of us


Who am I to judge you 

When you speak for me in all

I held all fault on me not you

Showing you how time count space

Who am I to judge you

When I gave all to make it work but I failed


Who am I to judge you

When all I see is you behind my dreams

Knowing you are far from me 

I pictured the difference but took the courage

I saw how better you are than me

But I took the bold step to learn 


Who am I to judge you

When all I give is nothing but emptiness

Who am I to judge you

When all I give is attention not affection

Who am I to judge you 

When I said I love you but yours fell by the way side 

Knowing the difference was clear

It's SACRIFICE between two people.


Published by:Robin Hossain

**Love Brings Pain**


I love you

But you pushing me away, 

I told you that loving you brings piece in my heart

Loving you makes me forget how I hate myself,

Loving you makes me strong and fight for you. 


Butt you choose to cheat on me.

And that makes me feel weak

You choose to Break up with me, but I told that I can't leave without you.


Did you know? Break up with you makes my enemies Happy,

Know people makes fun of me.


Sometimes I wish that my heart to stop beating, Coz every beat is for you. 


I love you more than you know. I will forgive you,Coz I love you.


Published by:Robin Hossain

**Alleigence**


Ears have heard

Our pasts can not be untold,

Seven ladies tilled up till dawn

Stitching an old plain that would dignified

Many.


I Pledge Alleigence,

To the flag of my country

With a painted colors of red, white and blue my heart beat for it national Anthem


From the gaint stance

I pulled my cap off,

Not to this coloured plain

But to the power I have gained


I pledge Alleigence,

To that lonely star of my country,

Symbolizing the first African republic to wave it flag to the earth,

The first flag tasted freedom in the dark Conteint of Africa


I pledge Alleigence,

To the white and red color of mine flag,

Meaning Courage and moral excellence

That's we haven't seen before,

Eleven strips and a blue field that denial to speak the true meaning of it Existence


I pledge Alleigence;

To the flag of Liberia and to whom that

Stands,only one nation, 15 counties, 16 tribes, 24 past presidents and 14 years of Civil unrest, indivisible with liberty that is questionable and justice for the few


I sighed a relief

Tiredness drained off me,

With power and might tone

My Alleigence shall always be.

=IN MY DREAM=


Slowly slowly slowly

You cuddle me so closely

Holding my hands so tightly

I held your hand so tightly

Cause I don't want our love story to end


Then I begin to ponder

How do I unlock this wonder

Then your laughter shows me the door

Your smile always giving me a clue

Showing me the key to your heart so true

Your love and care leading me through


Then you told me to close my eyes

Imaging a place filled with ice

How our love was meant to last

How our wish will come to past

You called me your little snowflake

You said our love was not fake


Then I opened my eyes and you were nowhere

I search for you everywhere

 only to discover you were only in my dream.


Published by:Robin Hossain

**Dear Broken Heart**


I know you can't recovery those your broken pieces,

I know you can't fight that love you ones give a room to stay,

I Know it hard to beat sometimes,

I know it hurt to live when there's no reasons to,


I can see the tears you have cried that has now sketch a map,

I can feel the voice of your pains speaking through you mind,

I can hear you screaming and shouting for help,

But your voice is so loud that no one can hear the sound,

I can feel the heat from those fire that burns you out,

With the smoke that darkens your face,


I know you're dieing each day,

I know you're fighting to breathe even when there's no breeze left to inhale,

I know you're lost and waiting for that special one whom will find you,

And stitches back those your broken million pieces,


But Dear Broken Heart,

Please move on,

Please stop swimming in that Red Sea of your regrets,

Please stop feeding those memories that keep growing up to overshadow all hopes and dreams,

Please stop blaming yourself,

To love someone truly was never a crime,


Please Move on,

Please Move on,

The road will only become clear when you start to move on,

The pains will only start to mend when you start to Move on,

The light will only shine in your dark self when you start to move on,


Blood in the waters, 

Ocean of tears,

Thousands of fears,

But the yet the shoreline aren't able to hold on to the sea,


So Dear Broken Heart,

Please Move on

And let the tides of the sea wash off the shores of your heart,

Move on,

Move on,

I know it takes courage to do so,

But Please Move on..


Published by:Robin Hossain

--SHADOW BRIDE--


If you could see into the shadows of my mind

You would know my thoughts are ready to unwind.

Like the devils advocate, I’m the mastermind 

Set out to provoke you because I’m so unkind.


I have cometh to take the life of your soul

And transform you into a raging evil troll.

You see my dear, we’re just a burning coal,

Fueling the darkness of our own black hole.


The depths of our minds play silly games

As we set out to absorb the lost claims; 

Who have died amongst the many names

That we’re deported into the eternal flames.


The raging storms lie living within our head

But the beast within the shadows, isn’t dead;

He has risen and is now eager to be fed

As the colour of the flowers fade from red.


The power of the shadow sucks a life away,

Creating a monster that’s eager to play.

Unable to stop as he’s hunting his prey;

He’s set to destroy all who stand in the way


Welcome to the nightmare that lives inside 

I hope you’ve enjoyed the shadows ride

I have no more dignity, nor do I have pride

So bow down before me and becometh my bride.


Published by:Robin Hossain

--OUR REFLECTION--


Somewhere south of the equator is the reflection of me

Who has become everything I’ve dreamed she would be.


The similarities we both share are so extraordinary

That everything we write becomes the same words we see.


Somehow the two of us have made a strong connection 

Because we both share the same emotional affection 


We never believed that our dreams could come true 

But now we both know that they truly indeed do 


We’ve never felt so much love come from a friend before 

And each day our loving friendship grows more and more.


In a complete different hemisphere, we live so far apart

Yet I’ve never felt anyone closer, right here in my heart


The reflection of myself is who I’ve finally found

And together in our hearts we’re both safe and sound.


Published by:Robin Hossain

*I've found love*


I was looking for love...

But, the love I searched for was not for me...

I knew he was not right for me...

But, the love I lost as a child I was hoping to find it in him...

He told me he would be there always...

He told me he'd love me forever... 

Forever until he left...

I felt empty and unloved...

But, the love I was seeking for so long came within a gift from above...

All along my true love was in Zion sent down from above...

To feel, to see, to love, and to hold...

Forever...

Hoping for a she...

I smiled...

And even though I had looked for love in the wrong person.

I looked to Zion and embraced this love I'm already feeling inside from the right person.

Because the love I wanted had dissipated within a glimpse of my eyes.

I wondered and wondered when someone would love me. 

And then she came along and changed me...

Changed me to love with my heart and not my head...

I was looking for love...

And the love I received was way better than the love I seeked.


Published by:Robin Hossain

**HUMAN LIFE**


A four lettered word  is life a rare gift

Unfathomable is its vibe so sweet

 Life is too small, all know all after all

But every small more beautiful above all

Who says life temporary with no chemistry

That can makes  history really a mystery

Life is not only a short story readable

An autobiography, a biography teachable

A drama both tragic and comic visible

Having diverse roles characteristic unique

A novel narrative and descriptive

Speaks of ages since primitives

A song aesthetic and erotic mingled

Without which man is a lunatic feeble

A criticism both analytical and logical

Reasons based  critical, philosophical

A performing art always ecstatic to enjoy

Makes one laugh and cry not to overjoy

A dance having NAVRASAS to please

WITH sixty four mudras to teach

Hearts leap up when watches full sights

Life is lovely, life is valuable deep insight

Life is a chance be mindful and hopefull

Be grateful to God to make life fruitful.


Published by:Robin Hossain

*Allah*


The stars are laughing in the distant sky because you are there

 The tide is flowing in the sea because you are there,

 The sun shines brightly because you are there

 The clouds are raining because you are there.


 The birds sing anxiously because you are there

 The river flows into the sea because you are there,

Shapla is bloom in the water of the lake because  you are there

 The honeycomb rises in the honey because you are there.


 There is so much redness in Krishnachura because you are there

 There's no sadness anywhere because you are there,

 The people of Jonah are burning because you are there

 Peacock feathers in the rain because you are there.


 The cool breeze blows in the heat of summer because you are here

 The field full of golden harvest because you are there,

 Karina Kairo is afraid of you because you are there

 Truth always triumphs in the heart of the world because you are there.


 There is so much softness in the moonlight because you are there

 The smell of laughter because you are there,

the book is filled with poems because you are there

 The world is so beautiful because you are there.

Published by:Robin Hossain

'Corona Virus'


Laying in my grave

Zero shock I gave to men

Laying there; all my mischief I crave

Thank said I to the folks called men

Now I come oh! Earth I come to shake

Men thought I could come be their friend


Forget they my fierce furies

I walk in shadows

So silent but in great fury

Forcing tree to halt and also make them mellow


I am almighty

My rules and reign has never been

Men tremble when I stalk with plagues

Everyone I’ll match they’re all my rag


 I am hungry oh! I’m hungry

My claw seeks fresh meat

Fresh blood my throat tastes to drink

I yearn, men came I to eat


Oh! Mother earth sweet home

Men besought me to go

Who leaves a party when feasting just begun?

Sweet men in whose blood I swim like a pond


I am a guest says nations 

But unknown to them I am on a quest

Won’t stop till finish my best

As ordered by father of demons


I know my predator

Not men; they‘re just my prey

Each day look them to their protector

But nothing can set them free

I am their terror

They run around thinking they can flee


Most thought me invincible

But “the green” fearlessly predates me

Aiming her bow straight at my skull

Piercing beyond, making worthless my nature “the invisible”

Her claws on my neck; oh! I’m now a prey

Death hastens for my exile call


Desperation says “stay more”

My course has not signed out

But I’m hanging on a web above a fire pot

Her heat seeks me to draw down


Alright, I will go

But not till I finish their foes

They look pitiable for my cause

“Good bye” a farewell from the virus.


Published by:Robin Hossain

"If Lost in the Dark"


If you get lost in the dark you will find a familiar song,

Find the side of water-filled eyes in the scent of deep darkness.

Find the melody of that familiar song in the gloom of darkness,

Unfamiliar tears are recognized and she cries again and again.

When you sleep, look for dreams, when you wake up, look for reality,

I open the window of the sky and I see you all the time.

Don't be hurt, I will be in the shadow of your happiness,

You find me in the blue touch of my thousand dreams.

Finding me in the luxuriant dew,

Crying my dreams and falling in love with you.

Life is big and small, so love doesn't satisfy the emotions

I took that black cloud of black from you.

I come to your window as a shadow

You don't know how much I still love you dear.

I go to that blue sky in a dream just to find you,

Today I just wiped the water and came back to Hazar Maya.

I'm sorry to hear that.

You did not come in your dreams tomorrow to sleep crying on a rainy night.

Although the moon art came silently in this silent earth,

I have not fulfilled the full moon, this world is full of love.

I find red touch on the black-crowned conch with you

I lost all the smoke in you today.

Every now and then Shihri Shihri wakes up in the shade of Kunj Prem Bitan,

Tell me where you find the stream of tears.

In the spring solstice I sit alone in a quiet seat,

Tears of cowardly shyness tremble and sign silently.

I love you so much, beautiful beauty, but I don't have full ownership,

You left before the sky turned blue.

I ended up calling it a lie,

Finding insomnia in starvation is the contribution you leave behind.

All the arranged things of life are broken,

There is everything in this colorful world, but you have not forgotten.

The sky of remorse called me to comfort me The stream of my tears has silently eroded.

"LAUGH LAUGH LAUGHING"


What I most; happen to hate!

A people always in haste,


To judge another ignorantly,

Of theirs nature malevolently.


A people who laugh at a person

Because of theirs nature portion,


A people on the rush to execrate

Another because of nature's fate,


People who joke, 'bout a person's nature,

Those who choke, with words on nature,


And a people, avoiding a person

Just because, of natures' reason,


And a people debating on another's nature,

Like a product error at time of manufacture!


A people not savvy with nature's laws

And ne'er willing to cognize nature's flaws,


Not deducing foibles are no parts to gather,

Or parts to replace with another,

Weakness is part and parcel of whole other,


Forming part of the whole obviously,

What naysayers ought to infer precisely,


And stop assuming it's anyone's wish,

And besides none is free of a blemish!


And stop laugh laugh laughing!

On people's nature or blaming!


And mine query to thee, nature's experts,

Who amongst thee, ever chose theirs  perverts?!!


Published by:Robin Hossain

-If I Could-


If I could,

I would have told my eyes never to look at you again,

My heart never to cry for you,

My smiles never to glow when you are present,


If I could,

I would have block the path you walked on,

Buried all those sad moment you give me in the deep part of the sea,

Kill all the joy I have when I set my eyes in yours,


If I  Could,

I would have told my phone to stop texting you,

My future to stop hoping on you,

My Arms to stop yearning for you,


But I Can't,

I just Can't,

I can't undo this feeling,

I can't delete your number,

I can't forget your smiles name,

I can't erase your smiles,

I can't remove those boundaries,


Cause if I could,

I would have hated you with a hate that has never been hated before,

I would have cause you pain and make tears roll from you eyes like a, 


But I can't,

Cause I still Love you,

I can't,

So I'm growing up my pains to live with it,

I just can't,

Cause I'm not willing to see you cry,

Cause if I could,

I would,

But I can't,

I Just Can't Unlove you.

Published by:Robin Hossain

"Dark Poet"


Topple now my liquid wonders

But keep it ice chill 

Let this sheet inscribe itself 

Pound pound pound the beat of heart flows

In unison each couplet glows

But in all in darkness am cloned


Lift high your candles 

Let me see in your face a right path to follow

Here I am under your blossom breath

Standing in your palace golden

In wait for morrow to come

And this darkness fade for everlasting 


"Oh splendid one"

The beauty of the blank sheet

My lips now have known smile 

And my heart wet with morning dews 

Build me a throne above my allies

Let me be like the cedar in Lebanon 

Let now my liquid wonders flow

Unto the face of this glorious sheet. 

Published by:Robin Hossain

**Birds of a Feather**


Birds fly in and birds fly out

Of a little puddle with a waterspout,

They flitter and flutter as they bathe

And toss the water the puddle gave.


They all join in to take their baths

And the little pond becomes alive,

With the flutter of tiny wings everywhere

As busy as bees in a hive.


Some birds large and some birds small

It's like a jamboree or free-for-all,

Then some birds leave and anothers arrive

In this little puddle they seem so alive.


When some birds fly away, many follow

They all turn at the very same time,

Whether up or down or all around

They all have the same rhythm or rhyme.


Its amazing to watch them in unison

As they quickly dart here and there,

Like a small dark cloud twirling around

As it moves rapidly through the air.


Some are black birds some are ravens

Some are sparrows and morning doves too,

Each unique in color and size 

Just the same as me and you..!!


They all have a voice and a chance to chirp

Or caw, tweet and even coo,

They speak their minds for the world to hear

Whether you listen is up to you.


We could take a lesson from our feathered friends

On how to treat each other,

Differences make us unique or special

But we are still sisters and brothers.


There should be a comradery among us

Where we all can get along with one another,

Though siblings may disagree from time to time

There is still a deep love among each other.


We can still work along side one another

And share in our labors of the day,

We can create a wonderful world together

And still listen to what each has to say.


We can respect the lives and dreams of others

We can share in their labors too,

We can unite in our purposes and desires

To bring about a better life for me and you.


So, imagine again the little flock of birds

And how they flitter and flutter so,

But when they leave and fly to greater heights

They gather together and in unison go!


Published by:Robin Hossain

"FUNNELLING DOWN A DREAM"


I’m trying to escape the vortex of my mind 

But the darkness keeps making me resist

As thoughts of my past seem to rewind

And keeps the light from wanting to exist


This world was once a much happier place

Where the bright blue sky shined all day

But now I’m stuck in a world of disgrace 

As my happiness slowly drifted far away


Every time my thoughts start feeling better

I begin to see a light at the end of the tunnel

But then in my mind I write another letter

And I begin swirling back down the funnel

 

Someday I may be able to erase the memory 

That seems to still linger inside my mind

But knowing that you and I will never be

Is a thought that’s so hard to leave behind


You were the happiness within my shadow 

And you brought out the very best of me

But now the darkness has become my show

As I’m lost inside a vortex of my sad reality


Falling further and further from happiness 

As I can’t allow myself to ever let you go

I’m now drowning into my own darkness

As the memories of you become all I know


I still pretend that you’re here with me

And the sky radiates another bright beam

Casting me into a world of my own fantasy 

As I start funnelling down another dream. 


Published by:Robin Hossain

=General=


I can't buy you a city of love,

I don't know how much it will cost,

In this precious market,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


I can't be your diamond, that diamond,

I don't know how many times I have to blink unnecessarily,

In this glamorous life,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


I can't be your love

I don't know how many times I have to be neglected,

In this changing time, if the mind does not agree,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


I can't be the hem of your blue sari,

I don't know how many designs he has to decorate in Calcutta,

In this colorless hand,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


I can't write a love poem about you,

I don't know how many pen inks and white leaves will run out,

In writing these rhythmless feelings,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


I can't follow your rules,

I don't know how many unwritten rules you have,

Don't distrust me, I won't do anything less,

In this conventional way of life,

I'm so ordinary,

Can't be awesome.


You know, people love the extraordinary,

And marries the common man,

To you, I have all the doors open,

So I won't say more,

Now you tell me to leave, can not?


Published by:Robin Hossain

*HANDS OF TIME*


Pieces of time are un-stolen memories stuck in our very own mind.

Never forgotten as there is nothing more greater to find.


Pieces of time bring us back to the times when we were young.

Never forgetting the birthdays or the tokens that we won.


Pieces of time are dear to our hearts when we need to see.

Never forgotten are the love ones close to you and me.


Pieces of time have taught us so much as our lives grow.

Never forgetting what we’ve learnt and what we need to know.


Pieces of time are remembered by the choices we have made.

Never forgotten for what we learnt is never going to fade.


Pieces of time can help us to choose which roads to take.

Never forgetting the past from what we chose to make.


Pieces of time still need to be made before our life is through.

Never forgotten are our mistakes from what we once knew.


Pieces of time are the reasons that we all still climb.

Never forgetting that we are all just pieces of time. 


“Keep climbing on the hands of time”

"Depression"


Stuck inside is an endless pit

But to you all, we hide it with a smile

Inside of us, we’re hurting so bad

And it’s been going on for a while.


We can’t explain this feeling to you

All we know is this pain is so real

But with a smile, we hide it so well

So you won’t know what we do feel.


Just like a mirror, we have two sides

both look the same on the outside

What you don't see is all that we feel

For it’s hidden because of our pride.


Only a few will ever know of us

Because they too live just like me

An inner depression like a black hole

Stuck in our mind, it’s all that we see


Falling and falling with no escape 

Trying to find an end to our darkness

But to all of you we shine a fake light

So you remain blinded with brightness


The scariest thoughts we do hear

Telling us to end all that I think

But no matter how much brightness

Our inner life will always stink


No matter what, inside we’re falling

Down a black hole that has no end

But to you all we’re just smiling 

Because we’ve learned to pretend


We’ll keep on going no matter the pain

Because of your smiles, we feel okay

Such an emptiness is our depression

Why we still have it, we can never say.

**MAKE YOUR MOVE**


“Make your first move”the devil said to me.

“In this game of life you’ll never be set free,

Just so you know I’ve played this before,

It’s a game of win or lose, nothing more.”


The words that he said began puzzling me

If I play him to win, what will the victory be?

If he’s played before, am I bound to lose?

What should even be the first move to chose?


Looking into his game, my mind began clear,

There was no right or wrong move siting here.

I’m determined that I have nothing to prove,

So I said to the devil ”you make my move”


“Oh my dear friend, that’s not how is goes,

It’s the game of life, you just can’t oppose;

Only you can decide the move you must make,

Now chose wisely and know what’s at stake!!”


Looking into his dead eyes I started to smile,

“Oh my dear friend, I like your thinking style

But I have decided there’s no move to make 

Playing with you is not a choice I will take”


Mad as hell, he knew the match just ended

For without playing I couldn’t be apprehended

And that my friends is how you must play

So make your only move and just walk away.

=THIS LOVE FOR YOU=


I gave you this love, I just gave it to you,

I just took the look of your faith.

I gave you the light of the soft moon, the blue of the sky,

I took only the desert Sahara of your faith.

Beauty poetic poetic expression blue sky,

May my love live in the luxury of your imagination.

Behind the clouds, the moon's panse jochana then did not call,

I did not draw anything in my eyes except the love of your faith.

I gave you as much red palash as it blooms in the forest,

Only your faith wants my imaginary howl.

I want to write at the end of tears the love of birth,

Paint the forehead with deep affection, the hope of the whole life.

Thirsty eyes are engrossed in the autumn morning in your faith,

My immortal love message is written next to it.

Ankhipallab seeks great faith in your eternal faith,

The restless mind is calmed by faith.

The stormy storm that never stopped in the middle of nowhere,

He never called the storm of faith in the meaning of your love.

Nesting birds love to nest in your yard,

It rained all day and left in the evening.

The house of faith is not broken in the words of another on earth,

Your faith will keep you in love.

The words of the heart are in the darkness,

Find that love in the twists and turns of darkness.

My extinct heart lives in your love,

That's why I want to seek faith and trust from him.

The light is mysterious, the darkness is terrible,

Cross the sea holding the hand of faith.

The moon came in the blue sky, breaking the clouds of wonder.

Tomorrow I have made kuntal in the soft bijana air of contentment.

==MY PEN==


I am not a writer, nor am I a poet,

Just on the secret page of my mind,

In the deep white book of the heart,

Some fragments of the feeling floated up.

Which is a combination of reality and fairy tales,

Some reflections, unsettling heartbreaking stories are painful.

I keep them in order,

Arranged in the context of staggering memories-

Let's talk about the past, the present and the future,

In the midst of seclusion, the details of shattered dreams.


Occasionally millions of beetles come in secret,

From the ink of my pen to the nib.

They embrace my conscience,

Yet I am indefatigable to the wording I arrange.

Sometimes a salty rain falls in my eyes,

Sadness and happiness in my life are the change of seasons.

Hiding the wounds of the inner city of my atrium,

As much as my love separation frustration,

Everything I can write with a pen,

I can be satisfied by shouting at me.

Luckily, there are no words in it.


I am not sick happily,

There is no happiness in illness,

Yet I forget to laugh and cry,

I broke down and built a house.

Sometimes I fall asleep with my head full,

The pen is in my laughter in the intoxication of self-existent drug use.

I spend my sleepless nights complaining about life,

So sometimes reluctantly cover your face with a pillow.

The waterfall of happiness constantly flows on my lips,

In the middle of the chest, erupting volcanic eruptions.

Only my pen knows,

Dumb laughter is the sound of crying, just how heartbroken,

Luckily, tears have no form, smell, color.

"Memories"


There are nights

That I am in my bed

And a lot of memories are running into my mind

Ofcourse your memories came first

And it made my heartbeat like a drum

Fast and loud

I don't know just remembering you

The goosebumps of being in love 

Is still here in me

Nothing has change the way I am for you

My promises for you never ever change

Since the day you left

The more I wanna hate you 

The more I'm loving you

The more I wanna get out of our love

The more I'm falling for it

Some people call me crazy in love

Because I couldn't go on and let go

But let me analyze

Who's really crazy???

Is it me who's just loving too much

Or is it them who's judging too much

Sometimes we shouldn't judge people

Who couldn't even take 

Even a baby step to let go

Because the reality is

Even though we all gone through heartbreak

But we all have different levels of pain

And love situations

You have your pain, I have mine

But we're different in some aspect of it

Yes! For some its easy to let go

But it's case to case basis

And for me I couldn't just let go

Of the love and person

That made my life worth it

The person who accepted and love me

When nobody cares

The person who made me feel perfect

In my most imperfect ways

Yes, I admit it 

I am crazy in love

With this very special person in my life

I wouldn't mind

People calling me crazy in love

After all 

I'd rather be crazy in love

Than to be crazy 

In hating people around.

"Happiness"


The waves of the blue sea are sleeping on the beach of happiness,

I like waves so I'm touched by the fascination too.

I floated the rose in the random water,

The flowers sway in the waves of the sea in the blue of the water.

Nakshatra Bithi, why are you in the dark?

Come to the courtyard of the scent of roses in the sea water.

Tamal's shadow has made the blue waves of the sea O bored,

So I understand that I live in the sea water with roses.

I lost my mind in the water of the sea, alas, what a spring,

The wind that destroyed the autumn grass looking for dew.

I saw the rose water of love in the waves, then I got it,

Arrange the lines of the sea in Satkahan.

Waves lost in search of the dream-breaking beauty of the waterfall,

The proletariat is the future lost traveler.

The water is playing in the house like a rose in a mournful rhythm,

So I understand that there is a sea of ​​great joy.

The sea has risen on new horizons in new winds,

The sea rose to hear the song of Tarangiya Jal Moti.

O you who play the flute on the seashore,

Flowers float in the sea water, the wind is bored with its scent.

Dreamy eyes saw love in the sea, love is eternal,

I am a fan of Bir Shefali boiling on the beach.

In the darkness of the evening the sea is submerged in the waves of luxury,

In the quiet evening my love remained by his side.

*REBIRTH*


The silent evening of youth by the lake.


The shadow of that man fell on the dark water

And that shadow has drunk all the water, instantly.

There is an empty lake inside me

I wanted to encounter him face to face

and asked my water back one day.


He burnt a forest

Now there is a burnt forest near the lake.

 

Then he continued to burn mountains

residences, religious places, libraries, streets, farming lands, people’s love…


Then I killed that person

He was reborn

I killed him again

He was born again and stood with his upright head with more strength than before.

 

For the last time, I killed him behind a church

Before the death he broke the statue of crucified Jesus

Then he entered straight inside me.


The monster is in my blood, breath, and soul

What a terrible resurrection

Perhaps he may have thought –

My body itself is the safest place for his rebirth,

 

But he did not realize, today I am ready to even kill myself.

"BELIEVE"


If you truly believe in the power of love, 

you can make all your dreams come true.

And as you float on the clouds above,

I’ll be the one holding your hands with you.


If you believe in the possibility of you and me,

Then speak out before it becomes too late.

Anything that you truly desire with us will be,

And with the belief in faith we will be great.


If you believe a love between us can exist,

Reach out to me with your open arms.

And know that your love for me, I won’t resist  

But only love you back with all my charms.


If you believe that love between us can be true,

Tell me now because baby I already love you.

"Life"


Life
is so strange

Everything change.

Nothing stays the same,

Who to blame.


I was born with nothing

But now I am dreaming with something.

Life is a game

But not completely the same.


Nothing last forever

We need to change for the better.

Yes there is love

But there's more hate.

"A Lonely Cry"


Sometimes being lonely is the hardest thing to do,

And how we get through, sometimes is hard too.


The pain that we feel no one else can understand, 

And all our emotions are carried within our hand.


We spill our feelings with the words we write,

As the tears fall down in the midst of the night.


All the pain we carry pours onto our bed sheets,

Intensified from the aches within our heart beats.


Being lonely is the hardest thing one must do,

But somehow it happens to both me and you.


Then we find a loving friend that makes us feel alive,

And somehow our life gets set into overdrive.


But again the friendship comes to an end,

Leaving us broken hearted, unable to mend.


The vicious lonely cycle of wanting to be in love,

Makes us wonder what’s the true reason of.


Why can’t I just feel like I’m a somebody, 

Instead of feeling like a complete nobody. 


Can someone please tell me, Why?

I’m tired of living with this lonely cry.

"āϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰ āĻ“ āύীāϞিāĻŽা"


āύীāϞাāĻ­ āĻ—āĻ—āύāϤāϞে āϏāĻŽৃāĻĻ্āϰেāϰ āωāϤ্āϤাāϞ 

āϊāϰ্āĻŽি'āϰ āϤāϰে āĻŦ⧟ে āϚāϞে āĻ•্āώāĻŖিāĻ• āϜীāĻŦāύ ।

āĻ āϝেāύ āύীāϞ āϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰ āĻ›āĻĢে āĻŦিāĻļুāĻĻ্āϧ āϏāĻŽীāϰে āĻ­েāϏে āφāϏা āĻ•িāĻ›ু āϜীāĻŦāύ্āϤ āϏ্āĻŽৃāϤিāĻĒāϟ

āωāĻĻ্āĻĻেāĻļ্āϝāĻšীāύ āĻšেāϟেāϚāϞা,āĻ…āϤāϞ āϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰে āĻĒ্āϰাāύ্āϤāϰ āĻ–োঁāϜা āφāϜ āϏāĻŦ āϝেāύ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿেāϰ āĻŽāϰীāϚিāĻ•া


āĻĒ্āϰি⧟ āύীāϞিāĻŽা;

āĻ•োāύ āĻāĻ• āĻŦাāϏāύ্āϤী'āϰ āϤāĻĒ্āϤ āĻĻুāĻĒুāϰāĻŦেāϞা āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰে āϝাāϤ্āϰা āĻšāĻŦাāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻ›িāϞ

āϞাāϞ-āύীāϞ-āϏাāĻĻা āĻিāύুāĻ•ে āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻ—āϞ্āĻĒāĻ—াāĻĨাāϰ āχāϚ্āĻ›েāĻ“ āĻ›িāϞ āϤāĻŦে āĻ•ি āφāĻļ্āϚāϰ্āϝ āφāϜ āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āϏāĻŦāĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āύীāϞāϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰেāϰ āϏাāĻĻা āĻĢেāύা āϝা āĻŽুāĻšূāϰ্āϤেāϰ āφāύāύ্āĻĻে āĻšā§Ÿ āĻ…āĻĻৃāĻļ্āϝ।


āĻĒ্āϰি⧟ āύীāϞিāĻŽা;

āĻļেāώāĻŦাāϰ āϝāĻ–āύ āĻļāĻ°ā§Ž āĻ•াāĻļāĻĢুāϞেāϰ

āĻĸেঁāω āĻ—ুāύেāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āϤুāĻŽি āĻĒাāĻļেāĻ›িāϞে

āĻ—োāϧূāĻŽāϚূāϰ্āĻŖ āĻšā§Ÿে āϝāĻ–āύ āĻĒāĻļ্āϚিāĻŽ āφāĻ•াāĻļে āϏূāϰ্āϝ āϰāĻ•্āϤিāĻŽ āϰুāϟিāϰ āĻŽāϤ āĻšā§Ÿ, āĻ িāĻ• āϤেāĻŽāύ āĻ›িāϞো āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϚোāĻ–।āϏাāϰাāĻĻিāύেāϰ āĻ•্āϞাāύ্āϤি āĻ—া⧟ে āĻŽেāĻ–ে 

āĻŽেāϰুāύ āϰāĻ™েāϰ āĻļা⧜ী āĻĒ⧜ে āϝāĻ–āύ āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽুāĻ–ী, āϤāĻ–āύ āϏāύ্āϧ্āϝে āĻŽু⧜ি⧟ে āĻ—েāĻ›ে, āφāϏাāϰ āφāĻ—েāχ āϤোāĻŽাāϰ  āϚāϞে āϝাāĻŦাāϰ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻĒ্āϰা⧟


āĻĒ্āϰি⧟ āύীāϞিāĻŽা;

āϜীāĻŦāύāϟা āĻāĻŽāύি āϤিāĻŦ্āϰāĻŦেāĻ—ে  āϧে⧟ে āĻāϏে  āĻ•িāύাāϰা⧟ āφāϚ⧜ে āĻĒāϰে āĻŽূāĻšুāϰ্āϤেāχ āĻŦিāϞীāύ āĻšāĻ“ā§Ÿা।

"āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ"


āφāĻ—āĻŽāύী āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻļিāĻļিāϰ-āĻāϰা āϏুāĻĒ্āϰāĻ­াāϤ,

āĻ িāĻ• āϝেāύ āĻŽেāĻšেāĻĻী āĻŽাāĻ–া āύāĻŦ āĻŦāϧূāϰ āϰাāĻ™া āĻĻুāϟি āĻšাāϤ।

āĻļিāĻļিāϰāĻ­েāϜা āϜāĻŦা āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļাāϰ āϘাāĻŽে āϝেāύ āύāĻŦāϰূāĻĒ,

āĻ…āĻŽৃāϤ āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ āĻĒ্āϰāĻ­াāϤ āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϏাāϧ āĻŽেāϟে āύিāĻ“ āϰূāĻĒ।

āϏ্āύিāĻ—্āϧ āĻļ্āϝাāĻŽ āϐāĻļ্āĻŦāϰ্āϝ āϰাāĻļি āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽেāϰ āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ,

āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻŦিāĻĒুāϞ āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖ āĻŦিāϚিāϤ্āϰ āϏāĻŦāϟুāĻ•ু āϝāĻĻি āϏে āϜাāύāϤ।

āĻāϞোāĻŽেāϞো āĻšিāĻŽেāϞ āĻšাāĻ“āϝ়া āφāϰ āĻŽিāώ্āϟি āĻĒাāĻ–িāϰ āĻ—াāύ,

āĻ āϝে āĻ…āύ্āϝāϰāĻ•āĻŽ āĻāĻ• āϰূāĻĒ āĻ•াāĻšিāύী āĻ­āϰাāχāĻ›ে āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖ।

āĻ­োāϰেāϰ āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļাāϝ় āĻŦিāϜāύ āĻŦেāϞাāϝ় āĻĻেāĻ–েāĻ›ি āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ•াāĻļ,

āĻŽুāĻ•্āϤ āφāĻ•াāĻļ āĻšāϤে āĻāϰে āϝেāύ āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļাāϰ āĻŦাāϤাāϏ।

āϤৃāĻĒ্āϤিāϰ āϏ্āύিāĻ—্āϧ āĻļাāύ্āϤ āϐ āϰূāĻĒ āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒ্āϰিāϝ় āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ,

āϝāϤāĻĻূāϰ āϚোāĻ– āϝাāϝ় āĻ­োāϰে āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļা āĻŽোāĻĄ়াāύো āĻ“āχ āϏীāĻŽাāύ্āϤ।

āĻ…āĻļ্āϰু-āϏāĻŽুāϜ্āϜ্āĻŦāϞ āĻŦিāϜāϝ়āĻŽাāϞ্āϝ āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļা āĻļীāϤেāϰ āωāĻĒāĻšাāϰ,

āωāώ্āĻŖ āϰোāĻĻেāϰ āϏ্āύেāĻš āĻ­āϰাāϟ āϝেāύ āĻŽāύāĻŽোāĻšিāύী āϏ্āύেāĻš āĻ—āĻ­ীāϰ।

āĻŽāĻšিāĻŽা āĻĢুāϟে āĻ“āĻ ে āϝেāύ āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻļেāώ āĻŦিāĻ•াāϞেāϰ āĻ–েāϞা⧟,

āĻ•ুāĻšেāϞিāϰ āϏ্āϰোāϤ āϰূāĻĒ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻ…āĻĒāϰূāĻĒ āĻĒ্āϰিāϝ় āĻ…āĻŦেāϞাāϝ়।

āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻ—āĻ­ীāϰ āϰাāϤ āϝেāύ āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖ āĻļ্āĻŦেāϤ āϜোāĻ›āύা,

āĻāϰা āĻ•ুāϝ়াāĻļাāϰ āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ āύিāĻŦিāĻĄ় āĻ­াāĻŦে āĻŽāύেāϰ āϏাāύ্āϤ্āĻŦāύা

āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻŽেāϘāϞা āφāĻ•াāĻļে āĻŽেāϘেāϰ āφāĻĄ়ে āϰৌāĻĻ্āϰ,

āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻ•āĻ–āύ āĻāϰ্āĻŖাāϧাāϰাāϰ āĻŽāϤো āύেāĻŽে āφāϏে āϏāĻŽুāĻĻ্āϰ।

āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•ি āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻ­োāϰে āĻ—েঁāĻĨেāĻ› āϰāĻ™িāύ āĻĢুāϞেāϰ āĻŽাāϞা,

āφāύāύ্āĻĻে āϏিāĻ•্āϤ āĻšāϝ়ে āĻ“āĻ ে āφঁāĻ–ি āĻ•āĻ–āύ āϝাāϝ় āϚāϞে āĻŦেāϞা।

āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒুāώ্āĻĒāĻ—ুāϚ্āĻ› āĻĢিāϰে āĻāϞ āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤ āύāĻŦ āϏāύ্āϧ্āϝাāĻŦেāϞাāϝ়,

āωāώ্āĻŖ āϚাāĻĻāϰে āĻŽোāĻĄ়াāύো āĻĻেāĻš āĻŽেāϤে āĻ“āĻ ে āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖেāϰ āĻ–েāϞাāϝ়।

āĻĻীāĻĒ āĻŽাāϞা āĻĒ্āϰāĻĻীāĻĒেāϰ āϏাāϰি āĻĒ্āϰāĻ­াāϤে āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āύāĻŦ āϰোāĻĻ,

āϤাāĻšাāϰ āĻŦাāĻ•্āϝেāϰ āĻļেāώ āĻ…ংāĻļ āĻ…āĻŽৃāϤ āĻšāĻŦে āύাāϤো āĻļোāϧ।

āĻĢুāϞ āĻ•ুāĻĄ়াāĻŦো āϚāϰāĻŖ āĻĢেāϞে āĻļিāĻļিāϰ āĻ­েāϜা āϏ্āύিāĻ—্āϧ āĻĒ্āϰāĻ­াāϤে,

āϤāύ্āĻĻ্āϰাāϚ্āĻ›āύ্āύ āϘুāĻŽ āϜāĻĄ়িāϤ āφঁāĻ–িāϤে āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻŦুāύি āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āϰাāϤে।

āĻšেāĻŽāύ্āϤেāϰ āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻŽা āĻ•āϤ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞে āύিāĻļি āύিāϞāϝ় āϜāĻ—āϤে,

āĻļুāϧু āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻŽাāϞ্āϝ āĻšাāϤে āĻĻাঁāĻĄ়িāϝ়ে āϰāχ āĻĒ্āϰāĻ­াāϤে

"āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻĻে⧟াāϞ"

 āĻāχ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϤে āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻ…āϰ্āĻĨ āϏāĻŦাāχ āĻŦোāĻে āύা।

 āĻ•েāω āĻŦāϞে-

āĻŽাāύুāώāϟা āĻ­ীāώāĻŖ āϰাāĻ—ী 

  āĻ•েāω āĻŦāϞে-

āĻŽাāύুāώāϟাāϰ āϧৈāϰ্āϝ্āϝ āĻ•āĻŽ 

  āĻ•েāω āĻŦāϞে- 

āĻŽাāύুāώāϟা āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻŦুāĻāϤে āϚা⧟ āύা āϤাāϰ āĻŽāύ āĻŦ⧜āχ āϜāϟিāϞ। 

āϏāĻŦাāχ āĻšাāϞ āĻ›ে⧜ে āĻĻে⧟, āĻŽাāύুāώāϟাāϰ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻĻে⧟াāϞ āĻĄিāĻ™িāϝ়ে āϐ āĻĒাāĻļāϟাāϤে āĻ•েāω āϝেāϤে āϚা⧟ āύা।

 āĻ…āĻĨāϚ....

āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻĻে⧟াāϞ āĻ…āϤ āĻļāĻ•্āϤ āĻšā§Ÿ āύা, āĻ­াāϞোāĻŦেāϏে āĻāĻ•āϟু āϟোāĻ•া āĻĻিāϞেāχ āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻ“āϟা āĻšু⧜āĻŽু⧜ āĻ•āϰে āĻ­েāĻ™ে āĻĒ⧜āϤো। āĻāĻ•āϟু āϏ্āĻĒāϰ্āĻļ āĻ•āϰāϞেāχ āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻāĻ• āĻŽুāĻšূāϰ্āϤে āĻ—āϞে āϝেāϤো।

    āϝে āϰাāĻ—ে āĻāĻ•āϟু āĻšāϞেāĻ“ āĻ­াāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻŽেāĻļাāύো āĻĨাāĻ•ে āϏেāϟাāĻ•ে āϰাāĻ— āĻŦāϞে āύা।

   


 " āϏেāϟাāϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻšāϞো- āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύ
"

āĻāχ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϤে āϝাāϰা āϰাāĻ— āφāϰ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻĒাāϰ্āĻĨāĻ•্āϝ āĻŦুāĻে āύা, āϤাāϰা āφāϏāϞেāχ āĻ­াāϞোāĻŦাāϏāϤে āϜাāύে āύা। 

"āĻ…āĻĒ⧟া"-āϤাāĻŽাāύ্āύা āχāϏāϞাāĻŽ।।āĻļেāώ āĻĒāϰ্āĻŦ


āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āϜ্āĻžাāύ āĻĢিāϰāϤেāχ āϏে āĻ–ে⧟াāϞ āĻ•āϰāϞো āϏে āĻšাāϏāĻĒাāϤাāϞেāϰ āĻŦেāĻĄে āĻļু⧟ে āφāĻ›ে।āφāĻļেāĻĒাāĻļে āϤাāĻ•াāϤেāχ āĻĻেāĻ–āϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āφāϰ āϰা⧟া āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āφāĻ›ে।āϏāĻŦ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ• āĻ•āϰা āĻŦিāώ⧟ āĻŦেāĻĄেāϰ āϏাāĻŽāύেāϰ āϚে⧟াāϰে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ে।

āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŦুāĻāϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻ›ে āύা āϏে āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻĻেāĻ–āĻ›ে āĻ•িāύা।āύিāϜেāϰ āĻšাāϤে āϚিāĻŽāϟি āĻ•াāϟāϤে āĻ—ি⧟ে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϏ্āϝাāϞাāχāύেāϰ āύāϞ āĻšাāϤে āϞাāĻ—াāύো।āϤাāϰ āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨাāϟা āĻŦুāĻāϤে āĻĒেāϰে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻŦāϞে,

-āϤুāĻŽি āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻĻেāĻ–āĻ›ো āύা āϏāĻŦ āϏāϤ্āϝি।

-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু!

-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻ•ি?

-āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϤো āĻāĻ•্āϏিāĻĄেāύ্āϟ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›িāϞো।

-āĻš্āϝাঁ।

-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϤুāĻŽি āϤো āϏুāϏ্āĻĨ।āφāϏāϞে āĻ•ি āĻšāϚ্āĻ›ে āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏাāĻĨে।

-āĻĻাঁ⧜াāĻ“ āĻŦোāĻাāϚ্āĻ›ি āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে।


āĻāχ āĻŦāϞে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āϰা⧟াāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āϤাāĻ•ি⧟ে āϚোāĻ– āχāĻļাāϰা āĻ•āϰে।āϰা⧟া āχāĻļাāϰাāϰ āĻŽাāύে āĻŦুāĻāϤে āĻĒেāϰেāχ āĻŦাāĻŦাāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āϤাāĻ•া⧟।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻŦāϞে,

-āĻŦাāĻŦা āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϤো āĻ…āύেāĻ• āϧāĻ•āϞ āĻ—েāϞো।āϏাāϰাāϰাāϤ āϘুāĻŽোāĻ“ āύি।āϚāϞো āϚা āĻ–াāĻ‡ā§Ÿে āφāύি।


-āĻš্āϝা āϤাāχ āϚāϞ।


āϰা⧟া āĻŦাāĻŦাāĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āĻŦেāϰ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—েāϞেāχ āĻĻুāĻšাāϤ āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āφঁāĻ•ā§œে āϧāϰে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āϰাāĻ—ী āĻ—āϞা⧟ āĻŦāϞে,

-āĻāϏāĻŦ āĻ•ি āĻĒাāĻ—āϞাāĻŽি āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ো āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ?āĻ•েāύো āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ো?āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻĨাāĻ•া āĻ•ি āĻāϤোāϟাāχ āĻ…āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦ āϝে āύিāϜেāĻ•ে āĻļেāώ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻিāϤে āĻ—েāĻ›িāϞে?āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻŦāϞāϞে āφāĻŽি āύিāϜেāχ āϤো āĻ›ে⧜ে āĻĻিāϤাāĻŽ āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে।

-āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ­ুāϞ āĻŦুāĻāĻ›ো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ।āφāĻŽি āϤো āĻ­েāĻŦেāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āϤুāĻŽিāĻ“ āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ›ে⧜ে āϚāϞে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ো।āφāϰ āϤাāχāϤো!


āωāϤ্āϤেāϜāύা⧟ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŦুāĻāϤেāχ āĻĒাāϰে āύি āϏে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύāĻ•ে āϤুāĻŽি āĻŦāϞে āĻĢেāϞেāĻ›ে।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻŽুāĻ–ে āϤুāĻŽি āĻļুāύে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āϤো āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ•।

āĻšাāϏি āĻšাāϏি āĻŽুāĻ–ে āϜিāϜ্āĻžেāϏ āĻ•āϰে,

-āĻ•ি āĻŦāϞāϞে?


-āĻ•āχ āĻ•ি āĻŦāϞāϞাāĻŽ?


-āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϤুāĻŽি āĻŦāϞāϞে!


-āĻ“āĻš āϏāϰি।āĻ–ে⧟াāϞ āĻ•āϰিāύি।


-āĻāĻŦাāϰ āϝāĻĻি āϤুāĻŽি āĻĨেāĻ•ে āφāĻŦাāϰ āφāĻĒāύি āĻŦāϞেāĻ›ো āφāĻŽি āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϏāϤ্āϝিāχ āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ›ে⧜ে āϚāϞে āϝাāĻŦ।


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŽুāĻ– āϚেāĻĒে āϧāϰে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻāĻ• āĻšাāϤ āĻĻি⧟ে।

-āĻ–āĻŦāϰāĻĻাāϰ āύা।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āφāĻŽি āĻŦুāĻāϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻ›ি āύা āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻāĻ•্āϏিāĻĄেāύ্āϟ āĻāϰ āĻ–āĻŦāϰāϟা āĻ•ি āĻŽিāĻĨ্āϝে āĻ›িāϞো?


-āωঁāĻšু। āĻāĻ•্āϏিāĻĄেāύ্āϟ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āϤāĻŦে āĻ—ুāϰুāϤāϰ āύা।āĻ…āĻĢিāϏেāϰ āϏিঁ⧜ি āĻĻি⧟ে āϤা⧜াāϤা⧜ি āĻ•āϰে āύেāĻŽে āĻŦা⧜ি āφāϏāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ।āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āĻĒা āĻĒিāĻ›āϞে āĻĒ⧜ে āϝা⧟।āĻĒāϰে āĻĻু āϚাāϰ āϜāύ āϏ্āϟাāĻĢ āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϏāĻĻāϰ āĻšাāϏāĻĒাāϤাāϞে āύি⧟ে āφāϏে।āϤেāĻŽāύ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āĻšā§Ÿāύি।āĻļুāϧু āĻ—ো⧜াāϞিāϰ āĻšা⧜ āĻĢেāϟে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে āĻāĻ• āϜা⧟āĻ—া⧟ āφāϰ āϞিāĻ—াāĻŽেāύ্āϟ āĻ›িঁ⧜ে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে।āϤুāĻšিāύ āĻĢোāύ āĻ•āϰে āϏেāχ āĻ–āĻŦāϰāϟা āĻĻিāϤেāχ āĻ—েāĻ›িāϞো āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻŦাāĻŦা āϏāĻŦāϟা āύা āĻļুāύে āĻĢোāύ āĻ•েāϟে āĻĻে⧟।āĻāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦাāϰ āĻĢোāύ āĻŦāύ্āϧ āĻĒা⧟ āϤুāĻšিāύ।


āĻāϤোāĻ•্āώāĻŖে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻ–ে⧟াāϞ āĻ•āϰāϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŽ āĻĒা⧟ে āĻŦ্āϝাāύ্āĻĄেāϜ


-āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ–ুāĻŦ āϞেāĻ—েāĻ›ে। āϤাāχ āύা?


-āĻāĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āϞাāĻ—েāύি।āĻĄাāĻ•্āϤাāϰ āĻŦāϞেāĻ›ে ⧍⧧ āĻĻিāύ āĻŦেāĻĄ āϰেāϏ্āϟ āύিāϞেāχ āĻĢিāϟ āĻšā§Ÿে āϝাāĻŦ।


-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻāĻ•āϟা āϜিāύিāϏ āĻŽাāĻĨা⧟ āĻĸুāĻ•āĻ›ে āύা āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ–াāύে āĻ•িāĻ­াāĻŦে āĻāϞাāĻŽ?


-āĻšাāϏāĻĒাāϤাāϞ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻĢিāϰে āĻāϏে āϘāϰে āĻĸুāĻ•āϤে āĻ—ি⧟েāχ āĻĻেāĻ–ি āĻŦাāχāϰে āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻĻāϰāϜা āϞাāĻ—াāύো।āĻ­েāϤāϰে āĻ—ি⧟েāχ āĻĻেāĻ–ি āϤুāĻŽি āĻ“āχ āĻ…āĻŦāϏ্āĻĨা⧟ āĻĒ⧜ে āφāĻ›ো।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϏāĻŦাāχ āĻŽিāϞে āĻšাāϏāĻĒাāϤাāϞে āύি⧟ে āφāϏি।āϏেāχ āĻ•াāϞ āϰাāϤ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻāχ āĻļāϰীāϰ āύি⧟ে āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ি āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে।āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ•্āώāĻŽা āĻ•āϰে āĻĻিāĻ“ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻāχ āĻ…āĻŦāϏ্āĻĨাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻŽা āĻĻা⧟ী।āφāĻŽি āϜাāύি āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āĻ•āώ্āϟ āĻĒে⧟েāχ āĻāĻŽāύāϟা āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ো āϤুāĻŽি।


-āωঁāĻšু āĻ­ুāϞ āϜাāύো āϤুāĻŽি।āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āφāĻŽি āĻāϏāĻŦ āĻ•āϰিāύি।āĻ“āύাāϰ āϝা āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻ…āĻŦāϏ্āĻĨা āĻ›িāϞো āϤাāϤে āĻāχ āĻŦ্āϝাāĻŦāĻšাāϰāϟাāχ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻ­াāĻŦিāĻ•। 


-āϤāĻŦে āĻ•িāϏেāϰ āϰাāĻ— āĻ›িāϞো āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ?āĻ•েāύো āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•āϰāϞে?


-āφāĻŽি āϤো āĻ­েāĻŦেāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āϏা⧟āύেāϰ āĻŽāϤো āϤুāĻŽিāĻ“ āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ›ে⧜ে āϚāϞে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ো।āφāϰ āϤাāχ āϤো āύিāϜেāĻ•ে āĻļেāώ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻিāϚ্āĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ।


-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āφāĻŽি āϚāϞে āĻ—েāϞে āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ•ি āφāϏে āϝা⧟?


-āφāϏে āϝা⧟।


-āĻ•েāύো āĻāϏে āϝা⧟?


-āĻ•াāϰāĻŖ āφāĻŽি āĻ­াāϞāĻŦাāϏি āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে।āĻ…āύেāĻ• āĻ­াāϞāĻŦাāϏি।āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ›া⧜া āĻĨাāĻ•āϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻŦো āύা।


-āĻ•িāĻš!āĻ•ি āĻŦāϞāϞে āϤুāĻŽি?


-āĻ­াāϞāĻŦাāϏি āĻĒ্āϰি⧟।


-āĻāĻŦাāϰ āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦāϤ āφāĻŽি āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻĻেāĻ–āĻ›ি।


-āĻŽোāϟেāĻ“ āύা।āĻ•াāϞāĻ•ে āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻŦāϞāϤে āϚে⧟েāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ।āϏেāϜেāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āĻ“ āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ।


-āĻ“āĻš āĻļিāϟ।āĻŦāĻ‰ā§Ÿেāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āϰোāĻŽাāύ্āϏ āĻ•āϰাāϰ āĻŦ⧜ āϏুāϝোāĻ—āϟাāχ āĻšাāϰি⧟ে āĻĢেāϞāϞাāĻŽ।āĻ•ি āĻ•āĻĒাāϞ āφāĻŽাāϰ!


-āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•āĻĨা āĻĻাāĻ“ āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ›ে⧜ে āϝাāĻŦা āύা।āϤাāĻšāϞে āĻāĻŽāύ āϏুāϝোāĻ— āϰোāϜ āφāϏāĻŦে।


-āχāĻļ!āĻāϤো āϏāĻšāϜে āĻ•ে āĻ›া⧜āĻ›ে āφāĻĒāύাāĻ•ে āĻŽ্āϝাāĻĄাāĻŽ।āϤāĻŦে āϤুāĻŽিāĻ“ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻĻাāĻ“ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻĒাāĻ—āϞাāĻŽি āφāϰ āĻ•āϰāĻŦে āύা।


-āϤুāĻŽি āĻĒাāĻļে āĻĨাāĻ•āϞে āĻ•āϰāĻŦো āύা।


-āĻ—ুāĻĄ āĻ—াāϰ্āϞ।


-āĻļোāύো।


-āĻ•ি?


-āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻāĻ•āϟু āϜ⧜ি⧟ে āϧāϰāĻŦে?


-āĻ“āϞে āĻŦাāĻŦা।āĻ•ি āĻŽিāώ্āϟি āφāĻŦāĻĻাāϰ।


āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āϜ⧜ি⧟ে āϧāϰে āĻŦুāĻ•েāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻŽিāĻļি⧟ে āύে⧟ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ।

āĻāĻŽāύāϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āϰা⧟া āφāϰ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻšাāϜিāϰ।

āĻ“āĻĻেāϰ āĻāχ āĻ…āĻŦāϏ্āĻĨা⧟ āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āϞāϜ্āϜা āĻĒে⧟ে āĻĻāϰāϜাāϰ āĻ•াāĻ› āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϏāϰে āϝা⧟।āφāϰ āϰা⧟া āĻĻুāĻšাāϤে āĻŽুāĻ– āĻĸেāĻ•ে āĻŦāϞে,

-āχāĻļ!āĻ­ুāϞ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿে āĻāύ্āϟ্āϰি āύি⧟েāĻ›ি।


āϰা⧟াāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āϞāϜ্āϜা āĻĒে⧟ে āĻĻুāϜāύ āĻĻুāϜāύāĻ•ে āĻ›ে⧜ে āĻĻে⧟।


āĻāϰ āĻŽাāĻে āĻŦেāĻļ āĻ•ā§ŸেāĻ•āϟা āĻĻিāύ āĻ•েāϟেāĻ›ে।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻāĻ–āύ āĻ…āύেāĻ•āϟাāχ āϏুāϏ্āĻĨ।āφāĻ—াāĻŽী āϏāĻĒ্āϤাāĻš āĻŦ্āϝাāύ্āĻĄেāϜ āĻ•াāϟāϤে āϝাāĻŦে āϏে।āĻāχ āĻ•āϟা āĻĻিāύ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖāĻĒাāϤ āĻ•āϰে āϏেāĻŦা āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ। āĻŦāϞāϤে āĻ—েāϞে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āϏেāĻŦা⧟ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻāϤো āĻĻ্āϰুāϤ āϏুāϏ্āĻĨ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে।

āϤāĻŦে āĻāϏāĻŦ āĻāĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āĻ­াāϞো āϞাāĻ—āĻ›ে āύা āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ।āĻāχ āĻŽে⧟েāĻ•ে āϤিāύি āϤা⧜াāϤে āϚে⧟েāĻ›িāϞেāύ।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী āφāϰ āĻ›েāϞেāĻŽে⧟েāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻĒেāϰে āωāĻ āĻ›েāύ āύা āĻ•িāĻ›ুāϤেāχ।


āϏāύ্āϧ্āϝাāĻŦেāϞা⧟ āĻĒাāύ āϚিāĻŦুāϚ্āĻ›িāϞেāύ āφāϰ āϏেāϏāĻŦāχ āĻ­াāĻŦāĻ›িāϞেāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦাāύু।āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āĻŦোāύ āφāĻŽেāύাāϰ āĻĄাāĻ•ে āĻ­াāĻŦāύা⧟ āĻ›েāĻĻ āϘāϟে āϤাāϰ।

-āĻ•িāϰে āφāĻĒা āĻ•ি āĻ­াāĻŦāĻ›িāϏ?

-āύা āĻ•িāĻ›ুāύা।

-āĻŦāϞāĻ›ি āĻ•ি āĻ…āύেāĻ•āĻĻিāύ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে āĻāϏেāĻ›ি।āφāĻĻিāϞ āĻāϰ āφāĻŦ্āĻŦু(āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী)  āϚāϞে āϝেāϤে āĻŦāϞāĻ›ে।āĻ•ি āĻ•āϰি?

-āϤুāχ āϚāϞেāχ āϝা।āĻāĻŽāύিāϤেāĻ“ āϤোāĻ•ে āϰেāĻ–ে āĻ•াāϜেāϰ āĻ•াāϜ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āĻšā§Ÿāύি āφāĻŽাāϰ।āĻ“āχ āĻŽে⧟ে āĻĻিāĻŦ্āϝি āϏুāĻ–ে āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ•āϰāĻ›ে।āϏেāχāϏাāĻĨে āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী āφāϰ āĻ›েāϞেāĻŽে⧟েāĻ•ে āĻšাāϤ āĻ“ āĻ•āϰে āύি⧟েāĻ›ে।āĻ“āĻ•ে āϤা⧜াāϤে āĻĒাāϰিāϏ āύি āϤুāχ।

-āφāϰে āϏে āĻŦ্āϝাāĻŦāϏ্āĻĨাāĻ“ āĻ­েāĻŦে āĻĢেāϞেāĻ›ি।āϤোāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻĒāϰাāĻŽāϰ্āĻļ āĻ•āϰāϤেāχ āφāϏা।āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āφāĻ—ে āĻ•াāϜ āϏেāϰেāχ āϝাāĻŦ।

-āφāϰ āĻŦ⧜ āĻŦ⧜ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞিāϏ āύা।

-āĻŽোāϟেāĻ“ āĻŦ⧜ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞāĻ›ি āύা।āϝা āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻŦুāĻĻ্āϧি āĻঁāϟেāĻ›ি। āĻ“āχ āĻŽে⧟েāĻ•ে āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āύ⧟ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦী āĻĨেāĻ•েāχ āϤা⧜ি⧟ে āĻĻেāĻŦো।āĻ•াāĻ•āĻĒāĻ•্āώীāϤেāχ āϟেāϰ āĻĒাāĻŦে āύা...


-āϤোāϰ āĻ•ি āĻŽাāĻĨা āĻ–াāϰাāĻĒ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে āφāĻŽেāύা?āĻ•িāϏāĻŦ āϝা āϤা āĻŦāϞāĻ›িāϏ।


-āϝা āϤা āĻ•েāύো āĻšāĻŦে āφāĻĒা?āĻ“āĻ•ে āĻĻুāύি⧟া āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϏāϰি⧟ে āĻĻিāϞে āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āϞাāĻ­ āĻ›া⧜া āĻ•্āώāϤি āύেāχ।


-āĻĻেāĻ– āĻŽে⧟েāϟাāĻ•ে āφāĻŽি āĻĒāĻ›āύ্āĻĻ āĻ•āϰি āύা āĻ িāĻ•āχ āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻ–ুāύ āĻ•āϰāĻŦো āĻ•েāύো?āϤাāĻ›া⧜া āϞোāĻ• āϜাāύাāϜাāύি āĻšāϞে āĻ•োāĻŽāϰে āĻĻ⧜ি āĻĒ⧜āĻŦে।āϏে āĻ–ে⧟াāϞ āφāĻ›ে āϤোāϰ?


-āφāϰে āύা।āϤুāχ āĻāϤো āϭ⧟ āĻĒাāϚ্āĻ›িāϏ āĻ•েāύো?āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻ­াāϞো āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻĒ্āϞ্āϝাāύ āφāĻ›ে।āφāĻ—ে āĻļুāύেāχ āĻĻেāĻ–।


-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু!


-āĻ•োāύো āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āύা।āϤুāχ āĻļোāύ।āĻ“āχ āĻŽে⧟ে āĻĒ্āϰāϤিāĻĻিāύ āϏāĻ•াāϞে āϏāĻŦাāϰ āφāĻ—ে āωāĻ ে āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰে āϝা⧟ āϤো?


-āϤা āϝা⧟।


-āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻŦেāĻļি āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻ•āϰāϤে āĻšāĻŦে āύা। āĻļুāϧু āϰাāϤে āϘুāĻŽাāύোāϰ āφāĻ—ে āĻ—্āϝাāϏেāϰ āĻĒাāχāĻĒāϟা āϞিāĻ• āĻ•āϰে āφāϏāĻŦো।āϏাāϰাāϰাāϤ āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰে āĻāĻ•āϟু āĻāĻ•āϟু āĻ•āϰে āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āĻ›ā§œাāĻŦে। āϏāĻ•াāϞে āϚুāϞা āϜ্āĻŦাāϞাāϤেāχ āĻ“āϰ āĻ­āĻŦāϞীāϞা āϏাāĻ™্āĻ—।āĻ“āϤো āĻ­োāϰে āϤো āĻ•েāω āĻ“āĻ ে āύা। āφāϰ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻĒāĻ•্āώে āĻ“āχ āĻĒা āύি⧟ে āĻĻ্āϰুāϤ āĻ›ুāϟে āφāϏা āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦ āĻ“ āύ⧟।āϏāĻŦাāχ āĻāϟাāχ āĻ­াāĻŦāĻŦে āĻ…āϏাāĻŦāϧাāύāϤাāĻŦāĻļāϤ āφāĻ—ুāύ āϞেāĻ—ে āĻŽাāϰা āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে āĻŽে⧟েāϟা।āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻ•েāω āϏāύ্āĻĻেāĻš āĻ•āϰāĻŦে āύা।


-āĻāϏāĻŦ āύা āĻ•āϰāϞে āĻšā§Ÿ āύা?


-āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ•āĻĨা āĻ­াāϞো āĻ•āϰে āĻļুāύে āϰাāĻ– āφāĻĒা।āφāϜāĻ•ে āĻ“āχ āĻŽে⧟ে āϤোāϰ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী āφāϰ āĻ›েāϞেāĻŽে⧟েāĻ•ে āĻšাāϤ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ে।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻāĻŽāύ āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ āφāϏāĻŦে āĻ—োāϟা āϏংāϏাāϰāϟাāχ āĻ“ āĻšাāϤে āύি⧟ে āύেāĻŦে।āφāϰ āϏেāĻĻিāύ āϤোāϰ āĻ•োāύো āϜা⧟āĻ—া āĻĨাāĻ•āĻŦে āύা āĻāχ āϏংāϏাāϰে। āĻāĻ–āύ āϤুāχ āϝāĻĻি āϤাāχ āϚাāϏ āϤো āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে āĻĻāϰāĻ•াāϰ āύেāχ āĻāϏāĻŦেāϰ।


-āύা āύা āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏংāϏাāϰ āφāĻŽি āĻ•āĻ–āύো āĻ•াāϰো āĻšাāϤে āϝেāϤে āĻĻেāĻŦো āύা।


-āϤাāĻšāϞে āϰাāϜি āĻšā§Ÿে āϝা।


-āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে। āϝা āĻ­াāϞো āĻŦুāĻিāϏ āĻ•āϰ।


āĻāχ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞে āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āĻĻāϰāϜাāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āϤাāĻ•াāϞেāύ।āĻāĻŽāύāϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āϤিāύি āĻ–ে⧟াāϞ āĻ•āϰāϞেāύ āĻĻāϰāϜাāϰ āĻ†ā§œাāϞ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ›া⧟া āϏāϰে āĻ—েāϞো।āĻ—āϞাāϟা āĻļুāĻ•ি⧟ে āĻāϞো āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦাāύুāϰ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāϟা āĻ…āĻĒāϰাāϧāĻŦোāϧ āφāϰ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāϟা āϚিāύ্āϤা⧟।

āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻŦāϞে āωāĻ āϞেāύ āϤিāύি,


-āύা āĻĨাāĻ• āĻĻāϰāĻ•াāϰ āύেāχ।


-āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻ•ি āĻšāϞো?


-āĻŽāύে āĻšā§Ÿ āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻ•েāω āĻļুāύে āĻĢেāϞেāĻ›ে।āĻĒāϰ্āĻĻাāϰ āĻ†ā§œাāϞ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ›া⧟া āϚāϞে āϝেāϤে āĻĻেāĻ–āϞাāĻŽ।


-āφāϰে āϧুāϰ।āĻ•েāω āĻļুāύāϞে āĻŦাāχāϰে āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϚāϞে āϝেāϤো āύাāĻ•ি।āϤোāϰ āĻŽāύ āĻĻুāϰ্āĻŦāϞ āĻšā§Ÿে āφāĻ›ে āϤাāχ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻĻেāĻ–āĻ›িāϏ।


-āĻšāĻŦে āĻšā§ŸāϤো।


āφāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦা⧜াāϞেāύ āύা āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।


āϏাāϰাāĻĻিāύেāϰ āϏāĻŦ āĻ•াāϜেāϰ āĻĒāϰ,āϰাāϤে āϏāĻŦাāχāĻ•ে āĻ–েāϤে āĻĻি⧟ে, āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰেāϰ āϏāĻŦ āĻ•াāϜ āϏেāϰে āϏāĻŦে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ–াāĻŦাāϰ āύি⧟ে āϘāϰে āĻāϏেāĻ›ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āĻāχ āĻ•ā§ŸāĻĻিāύেāχ āϏংāϏাāϰেāϰ āϏāĻŦ āĻ•াāϜেāϰ āĻĻ্āĻŦা⧟িāϤ্āĻŦ āϏে āϤুāϞে āύি⧟েāĻ›ে āύিāϜেāϰ āϘা⧜ে।


āĻāĻĻিāĻ•ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŦে⧜ি⧟ে āϝেāϤেāχ āύিāϜেāĻĻেāϰ āĻĒ্āϞ্āϝাāύāĻŽাāĻĢিāĻ• āĻ•াāϜ āϏেāϰে āύিāϞো āĻĻুāχāĻŦোāύ।āϝāĻĻিāĻ“ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ āĻŽāύে āϏংāĻļ⧟ āĻ•াāϜ āĻ•āϰāĻ›ে āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻŦোāύেāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āϏে āĻ…āϏāĻšা⧟।āφāϰ āϝাāχ āĻšোāĻ• āĻŦোāύ āϤো āϤাāϰ āĻ­াāϞোāϰ āϜāύ্āϝāχ āĻāϏāĻŦ āĻ•āϰāĻ›ে।


āϘāϰে āĻāϏে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻĻেāĻ–āϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻŦāϏে āĻŦāϏে āĻŽোāĻŦাāχāϞে āĻ—েāχāĻŽāϏ āĻ–েāϞāĻ›ে।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻ—ি⧟ে āĻšাāϤ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻŽোāĻŦাāχāϞ āϟা āĻ•ে⧜ে āύিāϞো।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āϰাāĻ—ী āĻ—āϞা⧟ āĻŦāϞāϞো,


-āϘāϰে āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ো āĻŦāϞে āĻāχ āϝāύ্āϤ্āϰāϟাāχ āĻŦ্āϝāĻŦāĻšাāϰ āĻ•āϰāϤে āĻšāĻŦে āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ•োāύ āĻ•āĻĨা āφāĻ›ে?āĻ•োāϰāφāύ-āĻšাāĻĻিāϏ āĻĒ⧜āϤে āĻĒাāϰো,āĻ—āϞ্āĻĒেāϰ āĻŦāχ āĻĒ⧜āϤে āĻĒাāϰো। āϤা āύা āĻ•িāϏāĻŦ āφāϜেāĻŦাāϜে āĻ—েāχāĻŽāϏ।āĻ“āϏāĻŦ āϰেāĻ–ে āĻ–ে⧟ে āύাāĻ“।


-āϤুāĻŽি āĻ–াāĻ‡ā§Ÿে āĻĻাāĻ“।


-āĻĢ্āϰ‍্āϝাāĻ•āϚাāϰ āϟা āĻĒা⧟ে āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে।āĻšাāϤে āύ⧟।āϏেāϟা āĻŽāύে āφāĻ›ে āϤো?


-āϤো?āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻŦāĻ‰ā§Ÿেāϰ āĻšাāϤে āφāĻŽি āĻ–াāĻŦ।āĻ•োāύ āĻļাāϞা āĻ•ি āĻŦāϞāĻŦে?


-āχāĻļ!āĻŽুāĻ–েāϰ āĻ•ি āĻ­াāώা!


-āϤাāϤে āĻ•ি āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে।āύিāϜেāϰ āĻŦāĻ‰ā§Ÿেāϰ āϏাāĻŽāύেāχ āϤো āĻŦāϞāĻ›ি।āφāϰ āϤাāĻ›া⧜া āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ­াāχ āĻ“ āϤো āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻļাāϞা।āĻļাāϞা āĻ–াāϰাāĻĒ āĻ­াāώা āύা।āφāĻĻāϰেāϰ āĻĄাāĻ•


-āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে।āφāϰ āĻ­াāώাāϚāϰ্āϚা āĻ•āϰāϤে āĻšāĻŦে āύা।āύাāĻ“ āϤো āĻšা āĻ•āϰো।


-āϤুāĻŽি āĻ–াāĻŦে āύা?


-āφāĻ—ে āĻ–ে⧟ে āύাāĻ“। āĻ–ে⧟ে āϘুāĻŽাāĻ“।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻ–াāĻŦ।


-āωঁāĻšু। āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏাāĻĨেāχ āĻ–াāĻŦে।āĻāχ āĻĒ্āϞেāϟ āĻĨেāĻ•েāχ āĻ–াāĻŦে।āĻ•াāϰāĻŖ āĻ–াāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻ•āϰে āϤুāĻŽি āφāϰāĻ“ āĻĻেāϰী āĻ•āϰāĻŦে।āφāĻŽাāϰ āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻŦāωāĻ•ে āύা āϜ⧜াāϞে āϘুāĻŽ āĻšā§Ÿāύা।


-āϤাāχ āĻŦুāĻি!


-āĻšুāĻŽ āϤাāχ āϤো।


-āϝāĻĻি āĻ•āĻ–āύো āφāĻŽি āύা āĻĨাāĻ•ি āĻ•ি āĻ•āϰāĻŦা āϤুāĻŽি?āĻāϤো āύিāϰ্āĻ­āϰāĻļীāϞ āĻšāχāĻ“ āύা āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻ“āĻĒāϰ। āϝāĻĻি āφāĻŽি āύা āĻĨাāĻ•ি āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϤো āĻŦাঁāϚāϤে āĻšāĻŦে।


-āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻ•োāĻĨা⧟ āϝাāĻŦে?


-āĻ•োāĻĨা⧟ āφāϰ āϝাāĻŦ।āĻŽাāύুāώেāϰ āĻšা⧟াāϤ āĻŽāĻ“āϤ āĻāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻ•ি āĻŦāϞা āϝা⧟।āφāϜ āφāĻ›ি, āĻ•াāϞ āύেāχ।


-āĻāĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āϚুāĻĒ।āφāĻŦাāϰ āϝāĻĻি āĻāχāϏāĻŦ āĻŦāϞেāĻ›ো āĻ–ুāĻŦ āĻ–াāϰাāĻĒ āĻšā§Ÿে āϝাāĻŦে āĻ•িāύ্āϤু।āφāϰ āφāĻŽাāϰ āφāϞ্āϞাāĻš āĻĒāϰāĻŽ āĻĻ⧟াāϞু, āĻ…āϏীāĻŽ āĻ•āϰুāĻŖাāĻŽā§Ÿ। āφāĻŽাāϰ āϤাāϰ āĻ“āĻĒāϰ āĻ­āϰāϏা āφāĻ›ে।āϤিāύি āĻāϤো āϏāĻšāϜে āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻ­াāϞāĻŦাāϏা āĻ•ে⧜ে āύেāĻŦেāύ āύা।


āĻŦāϞāϤে āĻŦāϞāϤে āĻ—āϞাāϟা āϧāϰে āĻāϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ।āϚোāĻ– āĻĻি⧟ে āĻĻুāĻĢোāϟা āĻĒাāύি āĻ—ā§œি⧟ে āĻĒ⧜āϞো।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āϚোāĻ–েāϰ āĻĒাāύি āĻŽুāĻ›ি⧟ে āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŦāϞāϞো,

-āϧুāϰ।āĻāχ āĻĒাāĻ—āϞ,āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ–āύো āĻŽāϰিāύি।


āĻ–াāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻļেāώ āĻšāϤেāχ āĻĒ্āϞেāϟ āύি⧟ে āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰে āϚāϞে āĻ—েāϞো āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āĻŽৃāϤ্āϝুāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āϤাāϰ āĻ•েāύো āĻŽāύে āĻšāϞো āϏে āύিāϜেāĻ“ āϜাāύে āύা।āϤāĻŦে āϤাāϰ āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে āĻ•েāĻŽāύ āϝেāύ āĻ•ু āĻĄাāĻ•āĻ›ে।āĻŽāύে āĻšāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻ–ুāĻŦ āĻ–াāϰাāĻĒ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻšāϤে āϚāϞেāĻ›ে।


āĻĒāϰেāϰ āĻĻিāύ āϏāĻ•াāϞāĻŦেāϞা āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āϘুāĻŽ āĻ­াāĻ™āϤে āϏে āĻĻেāĻ–āϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āϤাāĻ•ে āϜ⧜ি⧟ে āϧāϰে āĻļাāύ্āϤি āĻ•āϰে āϘুāĻŽাāϚ্āĻ›ে।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĒাāϞে āφāϞāϤো āĻ•āϰে āϚুāĻŽু āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ“ā§ŸাāĻļāϰুāĻŽেāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āφāĻ—াāϞো āϏে।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻ“āϝু āĻ•āϰে āύাāĻŽাāϝ āĻĒ⧜ে āύিāϞো āϏে।āĻĢāϜāϰেāϰ āύাāĻŽাāϝ āĻĒ⧜ে āωāĻ ে āϝাāϚ্āĻ›িāϞ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āϏāĻ•াāϞেāϰ āĻ•াāϜেāϰ āωāĻĻ্āĻĻেāĻļ্āϝে।āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻ•ি āĻŽāύে āĻ•āϰে āĻ•ুāϰāφāύ āĻļāϰীāĻĢ āĻāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āύāϜāϰ āĻ—েāϞো āϤাāϰ।āĻ–ুāĻŦ āχāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻšāϞো āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻ•āϰাāϰ।

āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āϘুāĻŽ āϏāĻŦে āĻ­েāĻ™েāĻ›ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻŽিāώ্āϟি āϏুāϰেāϰ āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤে

āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻļুāύāϤে āĻ–ুāĻŦ āĻ­াāϞো āϞাāĻ—āĻ›ে āϤাāϰ।āϘুāĻŽ āϘুāĻŽ āϏ্āĻŦāϰে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻŦāϞāϞো,

-āĻŦাāĻš āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āϤুāĻŽি āϤো āĻ–ুāĻŦ āϏুāϰেāϞা āĻ—āϞা⧟ āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻ•āϰো।


-āĻšুāĻŽ।āφāĻŽাāϰ āύāĻŦী āĻ•āϰীāĻŽ (āϏঃ) āĻŦāϞেāĻ›েāύ,āϤোāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে āϝে āϏুāϰ āĻ•āϰে āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻ•āϰে āύা, āϏে āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĻāϞāĻ­ুāĻ•্āϤ āύ⧟।


-āĻāχ āĻšাāĻĻিāϏ āϟা āϤো āφāĻŽি āϜাāύāϤাāĻŽāχ āύা।āφāϰ āϤাāĻ›া⧜া āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻļুāύāϤে āχāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻ•āϰāĻ›ে āφāϰো।


-āφāϚ্āĻ›া āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে।āϤুāĻŽি āϝāĻ–āύ āωāĻ েāχ āĻĒ⧜েāĻ›ো āϤাāĻšāϞে āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϚা āϟা āĻŦাāύি⧟ে āφāύি।āϚা āĻ–েāϤে āĻ–েāϤে āϤিāϞাāĻ“ā§ŸাāϤ āĻļুāύāϞে āĻ­াāϞো āϞাāĻ—āĻŦে।

āĻāχ āĻŦāϞে āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰেāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āĻĒা āĻŦা⧜াāϞো āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।


āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰে āĻ—ি⧟ে āϚুāϞা⧟ āĻĒাāύি āĻŦāϏি⧟ে āϏāĻŦেāĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āĻ…āύ āĻ•āϰāϤে āϝাāĻŦে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āĻāĻŽāύāϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻļ্āĻŦāĻļুāϰ āĻāϏে āĻĄাāĻ• āĻĻিāϞো।


-āĻŦৌāĻŽা।


-āĻš্āϝাঁ āĻŦাāĻŦা।āϚা āĻ–াāĻŦেāύ āϤো?āĻĻাঁ⧜াāύ āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āϟা āĻ…āύ āĻ•āϰে āφāϏি।


-āύা āĻŦৌāĻŽা।āϤুāĻŽি āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āĻ…āύ āĻ•āϰāĻŦে āύা।


-āĻ•েāύো āĻŦাāĻŦা?


-āĻĻাঁ⧜াāĻ“ āĻŦāϞāĻ›ি।āφāĻ—ে āĻ…āύ্āϝāĻĻেāϰ āĻ“ āĻĄাāĻ•ি।


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āϚিā§ŽāĻ•াāϰ āĻ•āϰে āĻĄাāĻ•āϤে āĻĨাāĻ•āϞেāύ āϏāĻŦাāχāĻ•ে। āĻĄাāĻ• āĻļুāύে āϰা⧟া, āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āϏāĻŦাāχ āĻ›ুāϟে āĻāϞো।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻ•্āϰেāϏে āĻ­āϰ āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ•োāύোāĻŽāϤে āφāϏāϤে āĻĒেāϰেāĻ›ে āĻŦāϟে āϤāĻŦে āĻāϏেāχ āĻĄাāχāύিং āĻāϰ āϚে⧟াāϰে āĻŦāϏে āĻĒ⧜āϞো।


āĻāĻĻিāĻ•ে āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āφāϰ āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āύিāĻļ্āϚিāϤ āύিāĻļ্āϚ⧟ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻāϰ āĻ—া⧟ে āφāĻ—ুāύ āϞেāĻ—েāĻ›ে।āϤাāχ āϤাāϰাāĻ“ āĻ›ুāϟে āĻāϞো।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻāϏে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻāĻ­াāĻŦে āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āĻĨাāĻ•āϤে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻšāĻ•āϚāĻ•ি⧟ে āĻ—েāϞো āĻĻুāχ āĻŦোāύ।


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āφāϰ āϰা⧟া āĻšা āĻ•āϰে āϤাāĻ•ি⧟ে āφāĻ›ে āĻŦাāĻŦাāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে।āϜāύ্āĻŽ āĻĨেāĻ•েāχ āϤাāϰা āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻāϏেāĻ›ে āϤাāĻĻেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻļাāύ্āϤāĻļিāώ্āϟ āĻŽাāύুāώ। āϏāĻŦāĻ•িāĻ›ু āϏāĻŽāĻোāϤা⧟ āĻŽিāϟি⧟ে āύেāύ।āϏেāχ āĻŽাāύুāώāĻ•ে āĻāĻ­াāĻŦে āϚেঁāϚাāϤে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻĻুāϜāύেāχ āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ•।


āĻŦিāϏ্āĻŽিāϤ āĻ—āϞা⧟ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āϜিāϜ্āĻžেāϏ āĻ•āϰāϞো,

-āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻ•ি āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āϤোāĻŽাāϰ?āϤুāĻŽি āϤো āĻāχāĻ­াāĻŦে āϚেঁāϚাāĻ“ āύা।


-āĻ•ি āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āϏেāϟা āϤোāϰ āĻŽা āφāϰ āĻ–াāϞাāĻ•ে āϜিāϜ্āĻžেāϏ āĻ•āϰ।āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ•্āώুāĻŖি āĻĒুāϞিāĻļে āĻĢোāύ āĻĻেāĻŦো।


-āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻ•েāύো āĻŦাāĻŦা?āφāĻŽি āϤো āĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āĻŦুāĻāϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻ›ি āύা। āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āϟা āĻ•ি?āĻŽা āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•িāĻ›ু āϜাāύো?


āϭ⧟ে āĻāĻ•āĻĒাāĻļে āϜ⧜āϏ⧜ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āφāĻ›ে āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āφāϰ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।

āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āφāĻŽāϤা āφāĻŽāϤা āĻ•āϰে āωāϤ্āϤāϰ āĻĻিāϞেāύ,

-āĻ•...āχ āύা..āύা āϤো।


-āĻŦাāĻŦা āϤুāĻŽি āĻĒ্āϞিāϜ āĻŦāϞāĻŦে āĻ•ি āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āĻāĻ­াāĻŦে āϰāĻšāϏ্āϝ āύা āĻ•āϰে?


-āĻ•ি āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āĻļুāύāϞে āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ• āĻšā§Ÿে āϝাāĻŦি।āϤোāϰ āĻŽা āφāϰ āĻ–াāϞা āĻŦৌāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ–ুāύ āĻ•āϰাāϰ āĻŦ্āϝāĻŦāϏ্āĻĨা āĻ•āϰে āϰেāĻ–েāĻ›ে।


āĻ•āĻĨাāϟা āĻļোāύাāĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ,āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ, āϰা⧟া āϤিāύāϜāύেāχ āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ• āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—েāϞো।


-āĻ•ি āϝা āϤা āĻŦāϞāĻ›ো āĻŦাāĻŦা?āĻŽাāĻĨা āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে?

āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻŦāϞāϞো।


-āφāĻŽি āĻ িāĻ•āχ āĻŦāϞāĻ›ি।āĻ•াāϞ āϰাāϤে āĻĻুāχ āĻŦোāύ āĻŽিāϞে āĻ—্āϝাāϏেāϰ āĻĒাāχāĻĒ āϞিāĻ• āĻ•āϰে āϰেāĻ–েāĻ›ে।āϝাāϤে āĻŦৌāĻŽা āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āϜ্āĻŦাāϞাāύো āĻŽাāϤ্āϰāχ āĻ—া⧟ে āφāĻ—ুāύ āϞেāĻ—ে āĻŽাāϰা āϝা⧟।āĻ•ি āĻŦৌāĻŽা āϤুāĻŽি āϰাāύ্āύাāϘāϰে āĻ—্āϝাāϏেāϰ āĻ—āύ্āϧ āĻĒাāĻ“āύি?


-āĻš্āϝা āĻāĻ•āϟু āĻ—āύ্āϧ āĻĒে⧟েāĻ›ি।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু!


-āĻ•োāύো āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āύা।āĻāϏāĻŦ āφāĻŽি āĻ•াāϞ āϰাāϤে āύিāϜেāϰ āĻ•াāύে āĻļুāύেāĻ›ি।āĻ­েāĻŦেāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦোāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āϰাāϜি āĻšāĻŦে āύা।⧍⧭ āĻŦāĻ›āϰেāϰ āϏংāϏাāϰ āϜীāĻŦāύে āĻāϟুāĻ•ু āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦাāϏ āĻ›িāϞো।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āφāĻŽি āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ• āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—েāϞাāĻŽ āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ­ুāϞ āĻŽাāύুāώেāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻāϤোāĻŦāĻ›āϰ āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āφāĻŽি।āĻ›িāĻš!


- āĻŦাāĻŦা āϝা āĻŦāϞāĻ›ে āϤা āĻ•ি āϏāϤ্āϝি āĻŽা?āϤুāĻŽি āϏāϤ্āϝিāχ āĻāχ āϜāϘāύ্āϝ āĻ•াāϜāϟা āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ো āĻŽা?


āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āϚুāĻĒ āĻ•āϰে āφāĻ›েāύ।āĻāĻ•āϟাāĻ“ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞāĻ›েāύ āύা।āφāϜ āύিāϜেāϰ āĻŽাāύুāώāĻĻেāϰ āϏাāĻŽāύে āĻ•াāĻ āĻ—ā§œা⧟ āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟েāĻ›েāύ āϤিāύি।āĻĒাāĻļ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āωāϤ্āϤāϰ āĻĻিāϞেāύ,

-āĻŽোāϟেāχ āύা।āφāĻĒāύাāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻ•ি āĻĒ্āϰāĻŽাāĻŖ āφāĻ›ে āĻĻুāϞাāĻ­াāχ?


-āĻĒ্āϰāĻŽাāĻŖ?āĻĒ্āϰāĻŽাāĻŖ āϞাāĻ—āĻŦে?āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে।āĻāĻ–āύ āϤুāĻŽি āύিāϜে āĻ—্āϝাāϏ āϜ্āĻŦাāϞি⧟ে āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻĒ্āϰāĻŽাāĻŖ āĻ•āϰāĻŦে āφāĻŽি āĻ­ুāϞ।


āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āĻĻুāχ āĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āĻĒিāĻ›ি⧟ে āĻ—েāϞেāύ।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ,

-āφ..āφāĻŽি āĻ•েāύো āϜ্āĻŦাāϞাāĻŦো।āφāĻŽি āĻĒাāϰāĻŦো āύা।āφāĻĒা āϤুāχ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻŦāϞ।


āĻĒাāĻļ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āωāϤ্āϤāϰ āĻĻিāϞেāύ,

-āĻš্āϝা āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āφāĻŦ্āĻŦা āϤুāĻŽি āϝা āĻŦāϞāĻ›ো āϏāĻŦ āϏāϤ্āϝি।āφāĻŽāϰা āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻŽাāϰāϤে āϚে⧟েāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ।


āĻ•āĻĨাāϟা āĻļোāύাāĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŽাāĻĨাāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে āϚāĻ•্āĻ•āϰ āĻĻি⧟ে āωāĻ āϞো।āφāϰ āĻ•োāύো āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞāϞো āύা āϏে।


-āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ•্āώুāĻŖি āĻĒুāϞিāĻļে āĻĢোāύ āĻ•āϰāĻ›ি।āφāĻļা āĻ•āϰি āĻ•াāϰো āĻ•োāύো āφāĻĒāϤ্āϤি āύেāχ।

āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ।


āĻĒাāĻļ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŦāϞে āωāĻ āϞো,

-āĻŦাāĻŦা āφāĻĒāύাāϰ āĻ•ি āĻŽাāĻĨা āĻ–াāϰাāĻĒ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে?āϘāϰেāϰ āĻŦ্āϝাāĻĒাāϰ āϘāϰেāχ āĻŽেāϟাāύ।āĻĒুāϞিāĻļ āĻĸুāĻ•āϞে āĻŦা⧜িāϰ āϏāĻŽ্āĻŽাāύ āĻĨাāĻ•āĻŦে?āφāϰ āϤাāĻ›া⧜া āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻ•োāύো āĻ…āĻ­িāϝোāĻ— āύেāχ āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ“āĻĒāϰ।āĻ•োāύ āĻŽা āϚাāχāĻŦে āĻ›েāϞে āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻŦিāϧāĻŦা,āĻ…āĻĒ⧟া āύি⧟ে āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ•āϰুāĻ•।āφāĻŽি āĻŽা āĻšāϞে āĻšā§ŸāϤো āφāĻŽিāĻ“ āϚাāχāϤাāĻŽ āύা।āφāϰ āĻāĻ–াāύে āφāϏাāϰ āĻĒāϰ āϝে āϏāĻŽ্āĻŽাāύ āφāĻĒāύি,āφāĻĒāύাāϰ āĻ›েāϞে āφāϰ āϰা⧟া āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻĻি⧟েāĻ›ে āϏেāϟাāχ āϤো āφāĻŽাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻŦেāĻļী। āφāĻĒāύি āĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻāĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āĻĻোāώ āĻĻেāĻŦেāύ āύা।āĻŦāϰং āφāĻĒāύাāϰ āĻ›েāϞে āϏুāϏ্āĻĨ āĻšāϞে āφāĻŽি āϚāϞে āϝাāĻŦ।āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ…āĻŽāϤে āφāĻŽি āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ•āϰāϤে āϚাāχ āύা āĻŦাāĻŦা।


-āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āφāϰ āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞāϞে āĻāχ āĻŽুāĻšুāϰ্āϤে āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āφāĻŽি āϤাāϞাāĻ• āĻĻেāĻŦো।

āϰাāĻ—ী āĻ—āϞা⧟ āĻŦāϞāϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ।


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻļুāύে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āϚুāĻĒ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—েāϞো।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āφāĻŦাāϰ āĻŦāϞāϞো,

-āϝে āĻŦা⧜িāϤে āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻŦāĻ‰ā§Ÿেāϰ āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖেāϰ āύিāϰাāĻĒāϤ্āϤা āύেāχ।āϏেāχ āĻŦা⧜িāϤে āĻĨাāĻ•āĻŦো āύা āφāĻŽি।āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϏংāϏাāϰ āύি⧟ে āϤুāĻŽি āĻĨাāĻ•ো āĻŽা।āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻŦāωāĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āφāĻŽি āφāϜāĻ•েāχ āϚāϞে āϝাāĻŦ।


-āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•ি āĻĒাāĻ—āϞ āĻšāϞে!āφāĻŽি āĻ•োāĻĨাāĻ“ āϝাāĻŦ āύা।


-āĻ িāĻ• āφāĻ›ে āϤুāĻŽি āϝেāϤে āύা āϚাāχāϞে āφāĻŽি āĻāĻ•াāχ āϝাāĻŦ।āϤāĻŦে āĻŽāύে āϰেāĻ–ো āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻāχ āĻŽুāĻšুāϰ্āϤে āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āύা āĻŦেāϰ āĻšāϞে āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϏাāϰাāϜীāĻŦāύেāϰ āĻŽāϤো āĻšাāϰাāĻŦে।


āĻāχ āĻŦāϞে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āύিāϜেāϰ āϘāϰে āϚāϞে āĻ—েāϞো।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ“ āĻ…āύুāϏāϰāĻŖ āĻ•āϰāϞো āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύāĻ•ে।āĻāϤো āĻŦ⧜ āĻ•āĻĨাāϰ āĻĒāϰ āϤো āφāϰ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻŦāϞাāϰ āĻĨাāĻ•ে āύা।


āĻāĻĻিāĻ•ে  āĻŽুāϰ্āϤিāϰ āĻŽāϤো āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āφāĻ›েāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āϤাāϰ āφāϜ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āĻŦāϞাāϰ āύেāχ।āύিāϜেāϰ āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ­ুāϞেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী,āϏāύ্āϤাāύ āϏāĻŦাāχ āφāϜ āϤাāϰ āĻŦিāϰুāĻĻ্āϧে āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŦāϞāĻ›ে।


-āĻ›িāĻš āĻŽা।āφāĻŽাāϰ āϞāϜ্āϜা āϞাāĻ—āĻ›ে āĻ­াāĻŦāϤে āĻāϏāĻŦ āϤুāĻŽি āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ো।

āĻāχ āĻŦāϞে āύিāϜেāϰ āϘāϰেāϰ āĻĻিāĻ•ে āĻĒা āĻŦা⧜াāϞো āϰা⧟া।


āϰা⧟া āϚāϞে āϝেāϤেāχ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŦাāĻŦা āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻāϏে āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ,

-āĻāχ āĻŽুāĻšুāϰ্āϤে āϤুāĻŽি āφāĻŽাāϰ āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ›ে⧜ে āϚāϞে āϝাāĻŦে।āφāϰ āϝāĻĻি āĻāχ āĻŦা⧜িāϤে āĻĒা āĻĻি⧟েāĻ›ো āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽীāĻ•ে āĻāϏāĻŦ āϜাāύাāϤে āĻŦাāϧ্āϝ āĻšāĻŦো āφāĻŽি।āĻ•āϞেāĻŽা āĻĒ⧜ে āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻŦোāύāĻ•ে āĻŦি⧟ে āĻ•āϰে āϤাāϰ āĻĻ্āĻŦা⧟িāϤ্āĻŦ āύি⧟েāĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ।āĻāχ āĻŦ⧟āϏে āϤো āϤাāϞাāĻ• āĻĻি⧟ে āϞোāĻ• āĻšাāϏাāϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻŦো āύা।āϤāĻŦে āφāϰ āĻ•োāύোāĻĻিāύ āĻ­াāϞোāĻ“ āĻŦাāϏāϤে āĻĒাāϰāĻŦো āύা।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āφāϰ āϚোāĻ–েāϰ āϏাāĻŽāύে āĻĻেāĻ–āϤে āϚাāχāύা āφāĻŽি।


āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী āϚāϞে āϝেāϤেāχ āĻŽেāĻেāϤে āϧāĻĒ āĻ•āϰে āĻŦāϏে āĻĒ⧜āϞেāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āĻāĻ• āϞāĻšāĻŽা⧟ āϤাāϰ āĻĒ্āϰি⧟,āϚেāύা āĻŽাāύুāώāĻ—ুāϞো āĻĒāϰ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—ি⧟েāĻ›ে।āĻ…āĻĨāϚ āϤাāĻĻেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝāχ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŽে⧟েāϟাāĻ•ে āϤা⧜াāϤে āϚে⧟েāĻ›িāϞেāύ āϤিāύি।āϞāϜ্āϜা⧟,āϘেāύ্āύা⧟,āĻ…āύুāĻļোāϚāύা⧟ āϤাāϰ āϚোāĻ– āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ…āύāĻŦāϰāϤ āĻĒাāύি āĻĒ⧜āĻ›ে।


ā§­ā§Šā§Ļ āϟা āĻĻিāύ āĻŽাāύে āĻĻুāχāϟা āĻŦāĻ›āϰ।āĻš্āϝা āĻ—ুāύে āĻ—ুāύে āĻĻুāχāϟা āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āύিāϜেāϰ āĻŦা⧜িāϤে āĻĒা āϰাāĻ–েāύি āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ।āϏেāχāϏাāĻĨে āύিāϜেāϰ āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻ•āĻĨা āĻĒāϰ্āϝāύ্āϤ āĻŦāϞেāύি।āϏেāĻĻিāύ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āĻ“āχ āĻ…āĻŦāϏ্āĻĨা⧟ āĻŦা⧜ি āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻŦেāϰ āĻšā§Ÿে āϝা⧟ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ। āĻ•াāϰো āĻ•োāύো āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āϟāϞেāύি āϏে āϏেāĻĻিāύ।āϤāĻŦে āĻāχ āĻĻুāχāĻŦāĻ›āϰে āϏে āĻŦাāĻŦাāĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻĒ্āϰāϤি āĻ•āϰ্āϤāĻŦ্āϝে āϤ্āϰুāϟি āϰাāĻ–েāύি।āĻ িāĻ• āϏāĻŽā§Ÿে āϏংāϏাāϰ āĻ–āϰāϚāϏāĻš āϝাāϰ āϝা āϞাāĻ—āĻŦে āĻĒাāĻ ি⧟েāĻ›ে।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻ…āĻŦāĻļ্āϝ āĻ…āύেāĻ•āĻŦাāϰ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύāĻ•ে āĻŦোāĻাāύোāϰ āϚেāώ্āϟা āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ে āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻļোāύেāύি।


āĻāχ āĻĻুāχāϟা āĻŦāĻ›āϰে āĻĒুāϤ্āϰāĻļোāĻ• āφāϰ āĻ…āύুāĻļোāϚāύা⧟ āĻ•্āϰāĻŽāĻļ āĻĻāĻ—্āϧ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›েāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āĻļুāϧু āϤাāχ āύ⧟ āύিāϜেāϰ āϚোāĻ–ে āĻŦোāύেāϰ āĻĒāϰিāύāϤি āĻĻেāĻ–েāĻ›েāύ āϤিāύি।āφāĻŽেāύা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ āĻ›েāϞেāĻ•ে āĻŦি⧟ে āĻĻি⧟েāĻ›েāύ āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āĻĻে⧜েāĻ•।āĻāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে āĻļ্āĻŦাāĻļু⧜ি āĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻ•োāĻŖāĻ াāϏা āĻ•āϰে āĻĢেāϞেāĻ›ে āϤাāϰ āĻĒāĻ›āύ্āĻĻ āĻ•āϰে āφāύা āĻ›েāϞেāϰ āĻŦāω।

āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻ…āĻŦāĻļ্āϝ āύāύāĻĻ āφāϰ āĻļ্āĻŦāĻļুāϰেāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻ­াāϞো āϝোāĻ—াāϝোāĻ— āφāĻ›ে।āĻāχ āĻĻুāχ āĻŦāĻ›āϰে āϏুāĻ– āωāĻĒāϚে āĻĒ⧜েāĻ›ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āφāϰ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ›োāϟ্āϟ āϏংāϏাāϰāϟাāχ। āϏেāχ āϏংāϏাāϰে āφāϜ āφāϏāϤে āϚāϞেāĻ›ে āύāϤুāύ āĻ…āϤিāĻĨি।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻŽা āĻšāϤে āϚāϞেāĻ›ে।ā§ŽāĻŽাāϏেāϰ āĻ…āύ্āϤঃāϏāϤ্āϤ্āĻŦা āϏে।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āĻāĻ–āύ āύিāϜেāϰ āĻšাāϤে āĻ•িāĻ›ুāχ āĻ•āϰāϤে āĻĒাāϰে āύা।āϤাāχ āĻĒাāϞা āĻ•āϰে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻŽা āφāϰ āϚাāĻĒা āĻĨাāĻ•ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে।āϚাāĻĒা āφāϰ āĻ…āύিāĻ•āĻ•ে āĻ…āĻŦāĻļ্āϝ āĻŽেāύে āύি⧟েāĻ›ে āĻŦা⧜িāϰ āϏāĻŦাāχ।āĻŽাāϏ āĻ›ā§ŸেāĻ• āφāĻ—ে āĻŦেāĻļ āĻ­াāϞো āĻŦেāϤāύেāϰ āĻāĻ•āϟা āϚাāĻ•āϰী āĻ“ āϝোāĻ—া⧜ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ে āĻ…āύিāĻ•।āĻāĻ–āύ āϤাāĻĻেāϰ āĻāĻ•āϟাāχ āϚাāĻ“ā§Ÿা। āϚাāĻĒাāϰ āĻ•োāϞ āφāϞো āĻ•āϰে āφāϏুāĻ• āĻāĻ•āϟা āϏāύ্āϤাāύ।āϤāĻŦেāχ āώোāϞāĻ•āϞা āĻĒুāϰ্āĻŖ āĻšā§Ÿ।āϚাāĻĒা āĻ…āĻŦāĻļ্āϝ āĻŦāϞেāĻ›ে āφāĻ—ে āφāĻĒাāϰ āĻŦাāϚ্āϚাāϟা āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻেāĻŦে āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āύিāϜেāϰāϟাāϰ āϚিāύ্āϤা।


āĻāĻĻিāĻ•ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āϏāύ্āϤাāύ āφāϏাāϰ āĻ–āĻŦāϰ āϰা⧟াāϰ āĻ•াāĻ› āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϜেāύেāĻ›েāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āφāĻ›ে āφāϏāϞেāϰ āϚে⧟ে āϏুāĻĻেāϰ āĻĻাāĻŽ āĻŦেāĻļি।āĻ িāĻ• āϤেāĻŽāύি āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āϚে⧟ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āϏāύ্āϤাāύāĻ•ে āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻĒাāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āφāĻ•াāĻ™্āĻ•্āώা āĻŦেāĻļি āĻšā§Ÿ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽেāϰ।āĻ›োāϟ্āϟ āĻ›োāϟ্āϟ āĻ•ā§ŸেāĻ•āϟা āĻ•াāĻĨা āϏেāϞাāχ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›েāύ āϤিāύি।āφāϜāĻ•াāϞ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽীāϰ āĻĒেāĻ›āύে āϞেāĻ—ে āĻĨাāĻ•েāύ āϏেāχ āĻ•াāĻĨাāĻ—ুāϞো āĻ“ āĻŦা⧜িāϤে āĻĻি⧟ে āφāϏাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ।

āĻ­āĻĻ্āϰāϞোāĻ• āĻ…āĻŦāĻļ্āϝ āϏ্āϤ্āϰীāϰ āĻāχ āĻĒāϰিāĻŦāϰ্āϤāύে āĻ–ুāĻļি।āĻļুāϧু āĻ›েāϞেāϟা āϝāĻĻি āĻŦুāĻāϤো!


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে āφāϜāĻ•াāϞ āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻŦাāĻŦা āĻ­াāĻŦ āĻāϏেāĻ›ে।āύিāϜেāϰ āĻ…āύাāĻ—āϤ āϏāύ্āϤাāύেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻšাāϜাāϰāϟা āϚিāύ্āϤা āĻšā§Ÿ āϤাāϰ।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ āφāϜāĻ•াāϞ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻ–েāϤে āĻĒাāϰে āύা,āϤāĻŦুāĻ“ āϏāύ্āϤাāύেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āϜোāϰ āĻ•āϰে āĻ–া⧟।āϤাāĻ›া⧜া āĻŦাāϚ্āϚাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻ িāĻ•āĻ­াāĻŦে āϘুāĻŽাāϤেāĻ“ āĻĒাāϰে āύা।āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āφāϜāĻ•াāϞ āĻ–ুāĻŦ āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŽāύে āĻĒ⧜ে। āϤাāϰ āĻŽা āĻ“ āĻ িāĻ• āĻāĻ­াāĻŦেāχ āϤাāĻ•ে āĻĻুāύি⧟াāϰ āĻŽুāĻ– āĻĻেāĻ–ি⧟েāĻ›ে।āχāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻ•āϰে āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻ›ুāϟে āϝেāϤে।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻ“āχ āϝে āχāĻ—ো!āĻ“āϟাāχ āϤো āĻŦাāϧা āĻĻে⧟।


āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āφāϜ āĻĄেāϞিāĻ­াāϰি। āĻ–ুāĻŦ āϏুāύ্āĻĻāϰ āĻĢুāϟāĻĢুāϟে āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ›েāϞে āĻŦাāϚ্āϚাāϰ āϜāύ্āĻŽ āĻĻি⧟েāĻ›ে āϏে।āĻāĻ•āĻĻāĻŽ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŽāϤো āĻĢāϰāϏা āφāϰ āĻŽা⧟াāĻ•া⧜া āĻŽুāĻ– āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āĻ›েāϞেāϟাāϰ।

āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻŽা āĻŦাāϚ্āϚাāĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ে। āφāϰ āĻ িāĻ• āĻĒাāĻļেāϰ āĻŦেāĻĄে āĻļু⧟ে āφāĻ›ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽ।āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āĻ িāĻ• āϤাāϰ āĻĒাāĻļেāχ āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻšাāϤāϟা āϧāϰে।āĻ“āϟিāϤে āύি⧟ে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āĻ•ā§ŸেāĻ• āĻŽুāĻšুāϰ্āϤেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻšাāϰি⧟ে āĻĢেāϞাāϰ āϭ⧟ āĻšāϚ্āĻ›িāϞো āϤাāϰ।āϤাāχ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻŦেāĻĄে āĻĻেāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āĻĒāϰ āĻĨেāĻ•েāχ āĻšাāϤ āϧāϰে āĻŦāϏে āφāĻ›ে āϏে।

āĻāĻŽāύāϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻŽী āφāϰ āĻŽে⧟েāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻ•েāĻŦিāύে āĻĸুāĻ•āϞেāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āωāϞ্āϟোāĻĻিāĻ•ে āĻĢিāϰে āϰāχāϞো।āϏāĻŦ āϞাāϜ āϞāϜ্āϜা āĻ­ুāϞে āĻ›েāϞেāϰ āĻ•াঁāϧে āĻšাāϤ āĻĻিāϞেāύ āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ,

-āĻŽাāĻ•ে āφāϰ āĻ•āϤো āĻļাāϏ্āϤি āĻĻিāĻŦি āĻŦাāĻŦা?āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĻাāĻĻুāĻ­াāĻ‡ā§Ÿেāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻ“ āĻ•ি āĻ•্āώāĻŽা āĻ•āϰা āϝা⧟ āύা?


āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύ āφāϰ āύিāϜেāĻ•ে āϏাāĻŽāϞাāϤে āĻĒাāϰāϞো āύা।āĻĒেāĻ›āύ āϘুāϰে āϜ⧜ি⧟ে āϧāϰāϞো āĻŽাāĻ•ে।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āϏেāχ āĻ›োāϟ্āϟāĻŦেāϞাāϰ āĻŽāϤো āĻ•াঁāĻĻāϤে āϞাāĻ—āϞো।āĻŽা āĻ›েāϞেāϰ āĻāϤোāĻĻিāύেāϰ āĻŽাāύ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āĻĒাāϞা āĻŦুāĻি āĻļেāώ āĻšāϞো।

āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āϚোāĻ–েāĻ“ āĻĒাāύি।

āϏো⧟েāĻĻা āĻŦেāĻ—āĻŽ āϧীāϰ āĻĒা⧟ে āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻāĻ—ি⧟ে āĻ—ি⧟ে āĻŦāϏāϞেāύ।āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ,


-āĻŽা āϰে āĻ…āĻĒ⧟া āĻŦāϞে āϤোāĻ•ে āĻ…āύেāĻ• āĻ…āĻĒāĻŽাāύ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āφāϜ āĻŦুāĻেāĻ›ি āϤুāχ āφāĻŽাāϰ āϘāϰেāϰ āϞāĻ•্āώী।āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻŽাāĻĢ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻে āĻŽা।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĻাāĻĻুāĻ­াāχāĻ•ে āφāϞাāĻĻা āĻ•āϰিāϏ āύা āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĨেāĻ•ে।āĻ“āĻ•ে āύি⧟ে āĻĢিāϰে āϚāϞ।āĻ•āĻĨা āĻĻিāϚ্āĻ›ি āĻ…āĻ­িāϝোāĻ—েāϰ āϏুāϝোāĻ— āĻĻেāĻŦো āύা।


āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻ•ুāϏুāĻŽেāϰ āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻ•াāĻ› āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ›েāϞেāĻ•ে āύিāϞেāύ āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻŽা।āύাāϤীāĻ•ে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϚāĻŽāĻ•ে āωāĻ āϞেāύ āϤিāύি।āĻ িāĻ• āϰাāĻĢāϏাāύেāϰ āĻ›োāϟ āĻŦেāϞাāϰ āĻŽুāĻ–āϟা āĻŦāϏাāύো।

āύাāϤিāϰ āĻŽুāĻ– āĻĻেāĻ–ে āϤিāύি āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ,

-āĻĻাāĻĻুāĻ­াāĻ‡ā§Ÿেāϰ āϤো āύাāĻŽ āϰাāĻ–া āϞাāĻ—āĻŦে।


āĻĒাāĻļ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āϰা⧟া āωāϤ্āϤāϰ āĻĻিāϞো,

-āĻ“āϰ āύাāĻŽ āφāĻŽি āĻ িāĻ• āĻ•āϰে āĻĢেāϞেāĻ›ি।āĻ“āϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻšāĻŦে āϰা⧟াāύ।āĻĢুāĻĢিāϰ āϰা⧟াāύ।


āϰা⧟াāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা⧟ āĻŽুāĻ– āĻŦাঁāĻ•ি⧟ে āϚাāĻĒা āĻŦāϞāϞো,

-āĻāχ āϝে āĻŦে⧟াāύāϏাāĻŦ।āĻāχ āĻ•ā§Ÿ āĻŽাāϏ āĻ•āώ্āϟ āĻ•āϰāϞাāĻŽ āφāĻŽি āφāϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻšāĻŦে āφāĻĒāύাāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻŽিāϞি⧟ে!āĻŽোāϟেāχ āύা। āĻ“āϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻšāĻŦে āĻ–াāϞাāĻŽāύিāϰ āϏাāĻĨে āĻŽিāϞি⧟ে।āĻ“āϰ āύাāĻŽ āĻšāĻŦে āϚাঁāĻĻ


-āύা āϰা⧟াāύ।


-āύা āύা āϚাঁāĻĻ।


-āϰা⧟াāύ।


-āϚাঁāĻĻ।


āĻāĻ­াāĻŦেāχ āĻ–ুāύāϏুāϟিāϤে āĻŽেāϤে āωāĻ āϞো āĻĒুāϰো āĻĒāϰিāĻŦাāϰ।āφāϜ āϝে āϤাāĻĻেāϰ āĻ–ুāĻļিāϰ āĻĻিāύ।


(āϏāĻŽাāĻĒ্āϤ)