Imagine the joyful moment of the rainy day

Assalamualaikum friends how are you all? I hope everyone is well in the mercy of Allah Ta'ala. I am Mish Mimuna. I am with you from Sirajganj district.

Salam is sitting in the window of the four -storey house in the city. Today he has come to the city for a year to study, but today there is a sudden tension in his mind - towards the village, towards childhood.

It is raining outside, and Salam remembers that afternoon, when the ripe mango fell from the big mango on the field. He and his friend Arman used to pick up mangoes. There was a small war with who would collect it before. Sometimes the two were leaning together towards an mango, shocked to the forehead, then racing again with a smile!

With the rain coming down, he could not stay in the house. Salam, Arman and a few other friends would go out on the field. Even if there is no sandals on the legs, what does it come to? Water would become mud in the ground, it was a fun part of the mud, running back and forth in the mud.

And once the game was over, everyone would go back home. Mother, sister was making a twist. Sometimes with hot radish, raw chilli, onion, a little mustard oil and mixed with a large bowl in a large bowl. Salam then sat down with his mother, sister, friends and sat down in the plate - together in a dish. Murry in the face, and the joy of rain in the eyes.

From the bed at night, till the body was on the body, the smell of rain. That scent, that joy, those people - all are lost today in the city concrete.

Salam stood in the window and raised his hand. The rain dropped on his palate.
He closed his eyes. He seemed to be standing next to Arman, the basket in his hand, saying, "Come on, mango!"

Just imagine? Or is it true to survive in memory?

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