Childhood- Episode-2

 

Going  to school in childhood, starting with the mother's hand. My mother used to take me with her when she went to madrasa. I wasn't too old to go to school then. I used to go to madrasa, but I didn't like sitting in any class. When my mother took that class, I used to sit in that class. The girls in the class called me. I used to sit next to them. They would give me chocolates. When school was over, I would go back home with my mother. Mother used to say, school to understand the environment, he took her with me. In the afternoon I would go to play on the college field with 4/5 friends, sometimes on the river bank. Sitting  down to read the rules in the evening. On the day when it was not read, my mother used to beat me. Where are those days today? Alas! Those days are no more today, neither is mother. The days are lost in the pages of memory and the mother is lost in the sky. As I was writing, I remembered my mother, along with the song "MAA" written by Prince mahamud and sung by James Bhai. Anyway, don't go there.

 

Everything changes over time, a lot is lost.

1. “He who comes to take the love of God can have no taste for the love of the world.” – Abu Bakr Siddique (ra).

 

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Hi World

My birth and identity:

 

I was born on 10.09.1976. Al though it is the age of the certificate. The actual age, has been pressed to the weight of the certificate. Yet he has to be raised because age is never a matter of hiding. And the real one can never be kept with a fake. In 12.05.1973, I was born in my grandfather's house in Thanapara, Kushtia district in Bangladesh.

 

My mother's name is Late Nasima Akhtar, father Sheikh Syed Ahmed. We are three brothers and one sister. I am the first child of my parents. The history of the unbearable pain of a mother involved in the birth of an child. Mother's debt of 10 months 10 days of pregnancy is never possible to repay. So my thousand greetings to that pregnant mother. I am blessed to be born in the womb of my mother.

 

Thousands of memories left in childhood: Childhood is a strange time. At this time, everything seems to go away very quickly, lost. Only a bunch of memories are left in the corner of the mind. And life means carrying that memory to death. How happy the memories of childhood were. How sweet, the days painted in thousands of colors. Ah what a joy! Now I think, if I could go back to childhood again! Then I would not return. That is no longer possible. I spent my childhood in my city. Grandfather's house is 1 km away from grandfather's house. Nana and Dada spent their days together at home. Dad was a government employee. The mother was a teacher at the Afsar Uddin Memorial Girls' Madrasa. I had 6 aunts. Father alone, he had no brothers. 3 aunts were married, and 3 aunts, grandparents lived with us. Those moments full of sorrow and joy. I was thrilled to remember it. Not going to school with abdominal pain. Spending  time wandering the streets in the name of going to school. How much I cheated. And the gang of naughty boys looted in the river Gorai. Play football on a muddy field on a rainy afternoon. Mud all over the body and bathing in the pond in the evening, ah what fun! 

 

                

  

           Beware of jealousy for verily it destroys good deeds the way fire destroys wood.

           Prophet Muhammad (Saw).

           

 

 

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My Life History

 I am a very ordinary person. I don't have the skills and experience to write a life history. Still, I started writing in my mind. When I write about my life, I think again and again, where to start. How to write. I will try to write one episode at a time step by step. Life is not a day or two that will end with the writing of two pens. Not even a few memories of childhood, adolescence or youthful insanity. Life is not just about acquiring knowledge, work, marriage and family. They are just one step in life. Combining these stages of life is a complete life. And the name of realizing this full life is life. Those who can recognize and understand life are successful in life.

Sitting down to write my own life history, it seems to me that there is no more difficult task in the world. Anyway, at least I didn't go down without explaining myself first.

 

 

 

O my God, it's been a long night writing. Not today. The next day, let's start again.

Thanks again to everyone for bothering to read this writing of mine.

 

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