Grameen Bangla is changing

Bengali itself, the image that floats in our eyes is the people of Bengali. The Bangladeshi poet Zamandar Rabitkur was called “Bengali sonar”, and the Bangladeshi poet Jeevananda Das English literature was called “Bengali Robsey”. These two forms of Bengal are “Bangladesh” by Kazi Nasr al-Islam. The gold in which gold collects is the gold mine, and the gold on Earth is the land of gold. Gold is the result of gold in Bengal, so it is “Bengali Sonar”. The soil of this country is so fertile that, when sowing a small seed of any crop, he laughs at full speed. That smile resonates with the farmer’s face and creates an echo of happiness in his heart.

He knows, however, that his life will be happily enriched. Gold earrings will be lifted on the ears of the child, gold earrings on the hands, and gold rings on the neck and dehydration that will last for years. Therefore, this soil is a gold mine. “He’s the mother of the mother,” Rabicore sang. It sounds a little overrated. Because my mom more than anything! All the time in those countries. Whatever it is, this soil is valued for us as mothers. Evergreen forever this country does not care! People of all races have come from all over the world. He settled in love with this word. Mixes with the ground. I gave blood to the earth in love. Shyamala Prefecture for cereals. Shyamala Forest. Advanced green hills. Bhatta River has many wonderful flowers flute Bhatyali with the song Flute in a sound. Carousel’s son-in-law.

A thousand species of birds chant. Doyle Quail Chill Dug Duck Moon smiles at the top of the bamboo garden. The road from the village to Rangamati. How strange this country is! In our fifties, we were like weirdo on Earth in our fifties. I hunted birds in the forest. I am fishing by the river. I played all kinds of games in the neighborhood. Common sports in the city were high, steep, boat, capdi, volleyball, soccer, latin america, kite.

Come to the city and join marble, hockey, cricket, baseball, grapes, table tennis and badminton. Swimming in the town and city pool, and swimming in the dirty and dirty water of Dholai canal were free. While walking from one city to another and from one city to another, I arrived in the city, but from this city to the city, it was free. There were many fish in the river basin. I was stabbed and sacrificed my life. After cutting jute in the rainy season, I got a small amount of shoyla in the water and got a fishing boat.

We also made Gabagach’s heartbeat with Mister the City.

I picked up the shawl. From a spider’s nest made in the leaves of rainy rice paddies, spiders caught and caught small fish with it. This joy still fills my mind. Ari Gosh, from the village, used to sell the field butter on his shoulder in early winter. Aunts are used to make mice and fields in cow’s milk from cows. There were several types of sweet butter. Winter Milk Various types of batches such as Pakan Peetha, Patisapata, Malpoa, Chitai, Vapapitha, Mera and Jala were used in the new Agrayana rice field. Kamala used to stack in the backyard with heavy rice from the ground. In the middle of the courtyard, a pole is raised and four or five cows are attached and converted to rice. If the rice is allowed to dry in the yard, the owner will come to eat it. I put rice in the rice field extending in the barashi.

Buck caught in a trap in a nearly dry field in winter. I hunted birds in the forest. With gold, I transferred bhoma (whispering in the air) to a bamboo jar. There used to be a rooster in the city. Elders used to play bushes. Inside the latum made of wood, a small hole in the bore, this hole in the rhythm is used to create a sweet melody in the air. I was surprised, I enjoyed it. There used to be songs in the city to read and write. Weavers weave their clothes. Kamlara sang in this. The singer sang to the ceiling, playing the violin. Kamara sings, breaks the roof, and builds a waterfall. There were trips. After the night, at leisure, the cucumber occurs. We used to sit in the field and listen to crabs. I used to listen to music in calling songs. There were plays in the villages. We enjoy drama without a ticket. I remember seeing the drama that took place at the Institute of Engineers, when the Spirit Street wandered between Ramna Park and the racing ground in the dark and dark streets. I used to visit Ramna Park almost every day. There are many types of trees, flowers and small greenhouses. I was playing football at Ansar camp in Shahbagh.

I used to bathe in the pool and swim. I used to come from school and play cricket in the open area on the west side. At the end of the game, I was back at the family home with thorns. Every Sunday on the Hippodrome, I came to school and watched races. These are just memories now. When I went to town, I used to watch wrestling. Especially in firewood, people gathered to watch him digging. I went to see the car fair. Fair people are people. I used to buy a variety of fair products. At the time of the vote, I used to go to the city to see the votes. During the Maghreb at night, I saw candidates praying alongside their shoulders. Before counting, the voting result can be ignored. The candidate who received the highest bid would have won the vote. Voters did not vote for those who would not vote.

It was a golden age of democracy. An interesting event that happened once. Who was the most respected grandfather in the ears of a great moment when no combatant in our town voted? He does not know how to do that. One day before the vote, Sark told his older uncle secretly: “Uncle, there will be polls installed in the ballot box. My vote for Hideai is your voice. In the past, people had a place where people trusted. How much water was in the river channel? There is a distinct dam, so there was plenty of water and fish. On this waterway, Kansari Faridpur, the remote potters, used to bring boats into the boat during the rainy season.

The rural community was like a shared family. 

Money did not move in the long run. The exchange would be the exchange of goods. The families used to exchange them in exchange for Rice and rice, black orange used to come, we used to put it on jute, in exchange for a flash Rice, clay pottery could be kept open. In town, Kamara Kumar was a barber seller. In town, we saw a mango filling basket at Wari’s house and we were saying, ‘Saheb Isle Dum Nia Jamu’. She used to be one that would come and take the price. People who work only when summoned to the village were not a matter of paying him or not However, people who used to use hot pepper in pepper had to give a third of the hot pepper. There was no shortage of people to lift the boat out of the water to prevent the firewood from sticking to the boat cabinet. Anyone can do this job without pay. At the end of the mission, the boat is also down. Anything minor could have been done with an honest heart without any regrets.

Manoram Safed Statements in Padma Jamuna Char. The smell of mukul mango in the village. Balash Shemol Bakol’s party. Beautiful little towns in green. Areas of Agriculture: The Chaluk Bahari beaker in the rainy season. In the summer afternoon, a layer of glazed silver salt was deposited on top of the farms when drying sweat in the sun’s heat. Flute Flute Hunters hunt in river water. A canopy in the shape of an umbrella built on the flying eagle of a golden eagle in the reservoir of the irrigation pond for fishing in Agrayan. A row of sailboat on the Titampur river in water. Jute rain of rice in the Shyamlima rainy season. Butterflies fly over the leaves of these trees. In the winter morning, the farmer plowed in the field.

The outlook of the rocky terrain. Various forms of white clouds float in the blue autumn sky. Tin rains rake in the house. The Cedar Cedar Ceremony. Song of birds in the trees. A hard leather belt caught the feet of wet beans in this area in the winter. Can you forget the beauty of Mayagra Bali scenes? We see it over and over and over and over again. In this way, how many poets, writers, and singers sang the heart of Mamata Makhanu, wrote poems, and wrote novels. How many artists did they draw? Today the beauty of the countryside has disappeared in the aggression of mechanical civilization. There was poverty in rural areas during those days. Today it slowed down a bit. Thunderstorms are still chasing the field. The river breaks and misery always pushes people away from the state of Bengal. In the past, people were few. Today people are more. Almost everyone was Vitimati. Not everything today. Today, small people in the city are chasing the river.

It will not be so, because the transportation system was not as advanced as it was today. Almost everyone was land. The inhabitants of the river exploded and settled in a suitable place. These brave people lived in the village while fighting against nature. Many are doing that today. The villages were almost self-sufficient. Despite the city’s abundance and resources, there was mutual emotion. One can jump to danger in danger. The government says people realize there is a robbery in the city when the police came from remote police stations. In addition, the village director, Matarbai, used to administer justice. The villages were beautiful shades of calm and sun. Distorted democracy and mechanical civilization changed the village’s healthy environment. Rural life has destroyed the bond of unity between people. Previous Bengali no longer exists today. Over the years, everything changed and lasted. Much of the rest is gone. Much has arrived that was not there. This trend will continue. Bengali be cute amen!

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