Free download or read online ✅Meku Kahini bangla book from the category of Muhammed Zafar Iqbal. Portable Document Format (PDF) file size of Meku Kahini. Meku Kahini is another popular teenage book By Muhammed Zafar Iqbal. To read Meku Kahini by Muhammad Zafar Iqbal please download now pdf file and enjoy it your smart devices. It’s time to enjoy Meku Kahini By Muhammad Zafar Iqbal. Meku Kahini is another popular teenage book written By Muhammed Zafar Iqbal. This book was published in date by Anupom Prokashoni.
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সংবিধিবদ্ধ সতর্কীকরণঃ এই বই পরিলে আপনার হার্ট অ্যাটাক করিতে পারে!!! সে জন্য আমি দায়ি থাকিব না । nvrehs.info?etmn2jinvmt. This Book Downloaded From nvrehs.info Page 2. Page 3. Page 4. Page 5. Page 6. Page 7. Page 8. Page 9. Page Page Page Page Book Courtesy: Bangla Books PDF Book Review: Meku Kahini By Muhammed Zafar Iqbal is a popular Bengali Book and and another popular.
Ke paipai nei keia Aha i na Kahu Ekalesia, e nana iho ma ko lakou mau kihapai i na wahi i hoohemahemaia e na Kula Aupuni, a e paipai aku i na makua a me na ekalesia e hoala aku i na kula. Heluheluia ka palapala noi o Kahana, e hookaawaleia i Ekalesia okoa, a me ke noi e Hookahuna ia E.
Kekoa i Kah no lakou. Ka palapala noi a ka Ekalesia o Wailupe, e hookahuna ia S. Holokahiki i Kahu no lakou. Kapohaku i Kahu no lakou. Ka palapala noi a ka Ekalesia o Waianae ia Rev. Kaoliko, e noho hou oia me lakou. Ke koho aku nei keia Aha ia Rev. Kuaea, Rev. Poli, Rev. Kulika i mau Komite e kaahele i ke kihapai o Hauula, a e hoakoakoa i na hoahanau, a e paipai aku ia lakou e hui lokahi lakou a e kahea aku i Kahu no lakou, e paipai ia lakou e hookaa i ko lakou aie e noho nei i ka lakou haiolelo ia E.
A i keia manawa aku, na ua lala o keia Komite e hele pinepine aku ilaila, a e malama i na Ahaaina a ka Haku me lakou i kela hapaha keia hapaha makahiki. Ke ae aku nei keia Aha, e noho hou aku o Rev. Kaoliko i kahu no ka Ekalesia o Waianae. Ke apono aku nei kei Aha i ka hookumu ana i Ekalesia hou ma Moanalua a me Kalihi.
E lilo o L. Kamika, H. Pareka a me L. Kulika i mau Komite e hookaawale i ko Moanalua a me Kalihi i Ekalesia kaokoa, a na lakou no e hookahuna i kekahi malaila, ma i akaka ia lakou ka pono o ia.
Ke paipai nei keia Aha i na Kahu Ekalesia o Oahu nei, e makaikai aku lakou i na kula o ko lakou mau Apana i kela manawa keia manawa. Poaono, Feb. Hapai ia ka niele ana ia S. Holokahiki a me Manuela. Ke ae aku nei keia Aha i ka palapala noi a ko Wailupe, e hookahuna ia S. A o ke Komite nana e hooko ia hana, o Rev. Kaoliko, Rev. Poli a me Rev. Ke a e aku nei keia Aha i ka haawi ana ia Manuela i Palapala Haiolelo.
Poakahi, Feb. Hapaiia ka hana ma ka hoike ana i na kihapai.
Kohoia o Rev. Pareka a e Rev. Different, funny, well-paced. A great book to read. Full of laughter. If you have a sad heart, read this book and you will forget the reason for being sad! Hopefully, you are gonna love this book. For more books stay with BDeBooks. Share our website with your friends to support us.
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Login Sign Up. Login to your account Remember Me Register a new account Lost your password? Book Info Report. Shared 1 Facebook Twitter. Not even the la st boy who would obtain one mark less than I could blame me for reading sitting on the bench in the classroom.
My legs never moved from the high benches and thus I had permanent arrangement with them. Possibly for that reason when I am made to speak on the dais, it seems the headmaster has made me to do it.
You can not make me address you more cordially from such a teacher- stricken person. Now let us begin.
For a long time I feel that the Bengali Muslim society is much poor psychologically, though not financial ly. I have received the title kafer infidel that the Muslim society has given me. I cannot remember if I have ever complained about its unjustness. But I have felt shy that I am not that much worthy to be ornamented with such a title. In spite of that I have been placed in the row of Hafiz- Khayyam and Monsoor.
No one will believe the existence of human blood in my veins if I deny my owe to the affection and love from the Hindu writers and public. Though due to envy some bad Hindu and Brahmo2 writers are speaking ill and a few orthod ox Hindu-shabha men are publicizing bad rumours about me but their number is very few. Their envy is completely communal or personal. I would not blame the whole Hindu society for these few devilish a ctivities. Moreover, at the present fanatic days my Muslim identity has been a crime to some Hindu people - how much non-communal I am.
I do not deny that the first storm of rebukes came from my own society i. All the thorn of depreciation have gone underneat h by the deep love and worm welcome of the Muslim young friends. Maybe, I did not get the blessing from the seniors, but I got the love and hearty garlands form the youths.
I have plucked flowers in m y loss-field. And these friends ha ve made me great, have made a seat in the hearts of the youths for me - seat of love. They were youths who received me with their garlands in Dhaka, Chittagong, Noakhali, Faridpur. Though these youths were of no specific community - they are of all the nations. You have called me to arouse all.
I think before your call I tried with my small but all power t o arouse them - with my life and life-force. My ability is small, but during the last eight years I have been roaming through the towns and villages with the farmers and labourers. I have written, talked, sang through the paths like the minstrels.
I do not have money, but I know you will not - who ever others will - blame me that I have ever hesitate d to spend my capability. The government has been much interested in me for all my services to my country and society. My most circulated books have been banned. Some days ago the police has notified me that if my recently published book Rudromongol The Violent Good is sold more, they will arrest me for sedition.
From my own experience I consider my society as fearful. This society is alwa ys with an iron rod held high. If one discusses about its vices and virtues he is to be embarrassed. Maybe, you are laughing, but I know, how many stones were thrown to my head.
You know what I think? This rotten society cannot be bettered only by caressing. If any one have that power of psychic cure, he may try. When an abscess matures and worsens, the pa tient then fears the surgeon most.
A quack may console him that he would relieve him only by touching his hands and the patient may be happy hearing this. But the poor doubtful surgeon will not believ e it. He operates with his knives deeply; the patient shouts, throws his hands and legs, scolds him. But the surgeon goes on with his activity. Because he knows that today the patient is speaking ill about him but he will come to greet him after some days when his pain is eradicated. What do you say? I myself is in favour of the surgeon.
The society will t hrow its hands and legs, will speak ill; but those who do not have that capacity to bear it, they need not try to work for social welfare. So, time and again I am calling the brave and devoted youths.
This purification is possible only by them. If anyone has such a stomach to bear this poverty, has back to bear attack, they are the youths. It is they who will create new literature, who will bring new wave, who will sing Page 21 24 Indirectly Related via Gultekin Khan for the fresher. Maybe, you have i dentified me as the pioneer of them.
But like you I also think, till now, of that fortunate who will be the pioneer of them. It seems to me that-fortunate has not yet arrived.
I have rapeatedly told e arlier that I have not seen that fortunate, but whenever I will see him I will be able to identify him. My words are only the welcome-songs to him. I will be only the trumpeter of him. I think, I am s inging only the awakening song at the wink of him. From all quarters around attacks, dishonour, disgraces are bestowing over me, but I will not stop my trumpet.
I do not know from where or from whom I have attained this belief. I always hear his footsteps in my heart, in my breaths.
Well, I also believe that anyone of ours may take that leadership. Till now I have looked for him above me. Maybe, I have looked for him in me. I do not like to say that I have met him, b ut I do not hesitate today to say that gradually I have felt his nearness. Many times it seems that I might catch him extending my hands a little further. I am brooding over your request to extend my hands.
So I am hunting for that undisturbed peacefulness in all hopelessness and despair thinking that I will discover my neglected existence in myself. I do not know that whether I will get that peace in my lifetime but if I get, I will answer your last question on that day. Now I will try to account for so me of your complaints. The responsibilities that you have mentioned are regarding my creation of poetry or purification of the society? I know the school of classic will get furious and their pen will turn into arrows if they he ar it.
The true picture has turned so by this time. Even then writers of the new wave must say this today. Those whoever have jumped the barriers of the critics have always received kicks and been das hed to 2nd class from the 1st.
Every time they have been criticized as crazy people.
And they are larger in number. For this criticism to sorrow by the lifeless gatekeepers of art the great poet Whitman was also grouped in the non-p oets. My condition is nothing better than to swallow the pillow. What will that meaningless sounds matter? What loss would be if I did not write it? They say lyrics must be a bout love and war. The prese nt day writers write about it because it is easy to get praise, they say. Certainly there was an era - possibly the earliest era - when the volume of suffering was smalle r than that of the present day.
The people got much opportunity to recite the Vedic hymns in Topobon3. But when people began to be oppressed then began the creation of epics of suffering - Ramayona, Mohabharot, Iliad etc.
Consequently what they wrote were full with ugly-rebellious feelings but will anyone say that they were not poems? The new li terateurs have to cerate new throngs singing about these sufferings. If they do not get room to sit in the same row of Kalidasa, Yeats or Rabindranath, they will get place in the dusty row s of Pushkin, Dostoyevosky, Whitman, Gorky, Johan Bojer. It is our long worship that this dusty rows will mortify those golden thrones.
Being one of the distr essed and sufferers, I have sung maybe that song could not expose their colours properly due to my lack as a painter; but how does a man be so low to disgrace the pain of it?
And see, there is no prot est against all these ill talks. But today I feel I should not have been so much disturbed receiving the arrow.
Yet I do not feel pity for that. At least I know this is merely the beginning of my life, beginning of my literary career. Wh y should I leave my demand of my way? If they do not let me pass through their kingly path, I must take my thorny way welcoming all attacks. At least I must proceed to the middle of the road.
How can I disgrace the garlands with which my naive friends have decorated me? You have spoken rightly - I will contemplate now - contemplation for my way. My young f riends have imprinted the victory mark of Vidrohi The Rebel permanently on my forehead. Many have mistaken it as the disgrace mark, but I have not. Have I protested against the truth, the beauty as I have sung about the sorrow, the beauty.