New starting

Me, Bandya, Ashok and Gharu, four of us were sitting there chatting as usual. Rebellion is good. He is not addicted to bidikadi. He doesn't even drink. We do not have such minor addictions. what about us We only have minor addictions and they pay. If I don't have bidi and paan, I am poor, Ashok and Gharu spend if I don't have liquor and bidi, and if there is money, that too sometimes goes to Ashok. I am Dhananjay Pashankar. Economic conditions are similar to the name. There were stones in the pockets, the pockets were torn. Because of Baba's discipline. Bandya meant that Walimbe's river of money had dried up. This hero told his birth father only last month what he thought about the previous generation It was said that thoughts come. At that time, at least the father used to pay two and a half rupees for a haircut, but he would take it first; But when the vice of principle and greed enters a person's body, it causes financial loss. He wanted to confirm this promise (my promise). "If you want to grow your hair like a child, then get out of the house right now!" At such times why not keep quiet and listen? But Bandya is the ideal of Chiyala Tilak and Chhatrapati in terms of bravery, "Look at this, Dad! Your era of this little hair cut is over! Dad now this is the latest fashion! And if your son is lagging behind in anything, where will your status go? "I say where it will go?" Is there any need to give such a big speech to your father? But if two of his sentences are correct in English, then he misses the form. If there is a mistake in the first sentence, the mouth of the rebel is locked; But if We have seen what happens when it is right.

Bandya's father had recognized the boy's water. He made a loud noise in his ear and put an open question to Bandy that either the hair or the house. Not only this, but cutting with a good voice is fine. Decide what to do in two days, on the third day if he wants to stay at home and the cutting is not done, he would go to the barber himself with the bandya and cut everything in a bowl and then in a biscuit cut, (even if it costs ten rupees, it will work, I will give it). There was, of course, Bandy's, and as punishment (this punishment for the above speech! My bloody father hates my bloody mastery of English) he had cut Bandy's pocket money. Every morning four annas would fall into Bandya's hand for tea. "Our father was Timurlang in the last birth, Genghis Khan before him, Alauddin before him, and Khilji, the magic lamp." "You're messing with the rebels!" "The question is not Sanavli's, you consider my feelings!" As Bandya was currently short of coins, we could say anything to him; But realizing the strong feeling of rebellion, we retreated. Our situation was similar with a slight difference. The only difference is that our father, mine and Gharu's, were in our respective villages and we were living in a room. Ashok's father has never harmed anyone. This made the rebels angry. "Cheyla, I used to eat insults! And you fly free! Mokat!" But it is true that all four were strict! We just sat passing the time. There was nowhere to go because there was no money. Ashok picked up a newspaper to pass the time. I was introspective. Tired of cursing his father, Bandu lay down on the cot to bring back the waning thrust. Gharu must have been thinking how much money he could get if he sold the junk as usual, and Ashok screamed like a man sitting on a vertical needle would scream. "Aila!" "What the hell ? What happened?" We were tired of Ashok's fantastic ideas. Gharu-Bandu did not even pay attention there. "Money is waiting for us!" Now I also gave up. "If we were to put it this way, you don't even make fun of Ayla these days." The matter was serious. Bandu changed course. Gharu dropped the bidi. I stifled a yawn. "1st prize 75, 2nd 50, 3rd 40 plus numerous prizes for stimulation. Where are you!" "1521.59 AD in Shivajinagar" we said. It was about money. In a few days How many days should be spent on the belief that you will get a job after graduating? “What do you have to do to get this reward? Just one thing to write, that too of three and a half thousand words!” We fell silent again. This work was a bit difficult. Till today, none of us were in this predicament. If it comes down to it, “Our Chingi is very smart. The other day mother said, 'Now there is a power cut' and she said, 'Then don't pour it in the saucer!' Why is she so hot? The only limit of our literary talent is to get rupees and points by sending jokes along the lines of 'Then pour it in the saucer and blow it'. So what was the joke of writing about the reward of 75 rupees? What will happen after writing these 75 jokes? story? And so the profound stars came out of our intellect.

In literary language it is called sfulling. But it was going to be cheap for 75 rupees. However, if genius is to be 'awakened, it has to be serviced by the Linga of the intellect or the brain. I mean, the cigarette came. Many celebrities in Marathi say they drink. We would have drunk too. But the country's economy is very fragile, so how will ours be? One hears words like currency inflation. But if we are not ready to see the currency, where is the inflation? Finally we decided to write the story.

There was no question of plot. The question was how to fit that story in just three thousand five hundred words. In the end, everyone wrote a separate story. Then it was grafted on what seemed good in it. Gharu had not written the story. Ashok's story ends in 500 words. So the story of the rebellion is the plot of the novel. 40 foolscap pages. In that, my story was almost 3500 words - to be exact three thousand five hundred and thirty two words. Gharu was employed in the audit department of Central Building during holidays. He calculated this final figure word by word. We unanimously modified the same and settled the story in three thousand four hundred and ninety seven words and decided the name. Now the author's name. Ashok immediately Draw the cards. The leaves were divided and the Queen of Ispik came to me. Satti, Durri Ni Tirri to the rest of the public. Then the author's name also became ours. We registered the matter as AD and forgot everything after receiving the AD receipt. Bandu created a sensation once. "Oh! I know! Are these editors thieves? An editor even changed many stories in the story competition and sent them in his own name on Diwali. An editor never pays; But the commission eats into the rewards too." Fortunately, this magazine didn't turn out that way, but we got another reward. Not only was there a clipping from Yathavash Magazine, but the prize came, plus an invitation to write again! We just relaxed. One fate of the rebellion, however, came true. Due to the extension of the deadline for the story competition, the postponement of the result date due to the coming of the story, so much time has passed that in the meantime, we have almost B. A. And so on, my father had started throwing boards with the grace of the government. Pretty much in a nationalized bank. One day the print of that magazine came out. In that Lakhota there was another Lakhota. Accompanying letter from the editor. 'We are sending the enclosed letter written in your name to us.' I also opened the letter, wondering what it might be. Dear Mr. Author, read the prize story in your issue of 'Saubhagyavati'. First of all, congratulations on winning the prize for writing this story. (The characters were women, but when this 'Karte' confirmed the femininity of the letter writer, heaven remained only two fingers. Evitevi danced and came to the window. The question was only to move two fingers forward and swing towards the road. The real catch was ahead. First of all, the word The importance should have been realized.) Writer should write, get rewards; But while doing so, one should be careful not to do injustice to anyone. You have portrayed my story perfectly in your story; But further this story is completely fictional, in the story, If the character is related to any living or dead person, it should be considered a coincidence.

He also proved his own cowardice by writing like this. anyway The satisfaction in it is that at least a writer with a good writing style should take a hand in my life story. And so on and so forth. Your humbl Medha Factory. I collapsed in a rush, dead, bombed, fell, 'Oh! What a joke, Sala. We created the name of our heroine by grafting the names of our college queen Medha Agashe and our friend Ramesh Karkhanis. Nayak's name was created by adding the surname of the vice principal to the name of the principal of the college. And this woman directly accuses Bhalte. The voice should be heard under the ear. No, damages, a molestation lawsuit I used to go to work. I removed the woman's ear and the area below it from my mind. A letter was scribbled. Something was written along the lines of misunderstanding, coincidence, etc., there was no purpose. Heard your name for the first time. We also added names drawn by lotteries etc. and removed these thoughts from our minds. Although I forgot this, destiny did not forget and the young woman named Medha Karkhanis did not forget at all.

One day, dressed in quarter pants and a bunion, with a handkerchief on her shoulder, our Swari was sitting making tea. I used to take out the horn from the stove and I said, 'Hum tum chorise, bandhe ek Ľayla, if you burn the leka properly, what will happen to your father! Jaiyo kahanss ssala stove!' Along these lines the stove was encouraged to boil tea water. There was a knock on the door. "The door is open, bandya!" I screamed. The door was opened but no one entered. I was suspicious. I hastily pulled the lungi over the cot and proceeded to put it on. Pretty good kid standing at the door! Crazy! Did the price of tea start to rise so much? what The charminar in hand was yet to be lit and kept it in the window. My jaw must have dropped to my chest. Sukanya asked, "Come in?" Ayla! Our common sense eats dung like that. I pushed the jaw with my hand, and said, "Come on! Come on! Come in!” There was a pile of clothes on the chair. Before we had the sense to hide our 'super clean underwear' she sat on the cot. I pulled the towel on the rope and wrapped the clothes on the chair in it and put it in the closet and asked the lady, "Yes, speak; what can I do for you?" "Dhananjay Pashankar why you?" What a bow man! It should be like this. (What exactly does Najakat mean? The word is used as a healer! To mislead! The meaning is that it was the beauty that made a stoner like me speak Urdu) "Yes! I am Dhananjay Pashankar!" Hearing this, the lady immediately began to cry in the guise of Shankutala, who had been abandoned by Dushyanta. I was exhausted. Oh, even in our dreams, the woman never came and why did she come to my room and cry? And coming in a dream What is this satyayuga for something to happen?" This is indeed Kaliyuga. Here people act as if it did not happen in reality. "Hey! Please don't cry! Say what will be and start going!" I said. Various types of reasoning came to mind. Now probably some strong young man will come and force me or he will molest me, so this lady will break the taho and so on. I quickly left the room and started looking at the beauty of the street from the gallery. After a while, the lady's moans stopped. I came back inside. "My name is Medha Karkhanis!" said the lady or young woman. "What do you want!" said my exasperation. "Why are you torturing me like this?" "But what if I did ?" Wasn't he a brigadier!" "Am I afraid of a brigadier? My dad was also a brigadier!" I gave dad a promotion. "Ha! Your father was a colonel. Retired to Gwalior! Write a story on my child? Look at him!" "But then why are you here? What will daddy say?" "So come. They will come here in the evening. They have interrogated you. They are going to take you by the ear to your father and demand you for me!" "Ha! I don't want to get married right now!" "I came to tell you not to say that!" She said goodbye to me. Passed by on the way. I fell on the cot feeling numb. I didn't know what to do. No donkey friend was coming today. Who knows how long it had been like this. A large shadow entered through the door fell I ran to the door as Bandya, Ashok came. If you look, a handsome man is standing at the door.

A khaki man knows a khaki man right at the door. Dad is a khaki man. right There is no question. This will be Brigadier Factory! "Come Brigadier! Come now!" "You are mistaken my boy! I am a retired colonel!" I mean Pori had promoted her father like I. She must have thought that the Colonel's son would be afraid of the Brigadier's son.
"So Karkhanis is the last name right?" “Of course not!” Ayla, this fatrud colonel will not be willing to speak in the same language as my father! "What do you mean by that!" "I tell you! But first explain a couple of things to me!" People who are in the habit of giving these orders never listen to others, but I want to see if I can was asked "Huh! Speak!" "What Mina! What's going on here!" Colonel Sakholkar's voice echoed in the room. I jumped up. "I came back to say I forgot to tell the address. You do know, don't you?" I shouted as he turned around. "No!” "What isn't?" 'We don't know each other!' So I told them the whole truth. Then this colonel said 'Oh you naughty girl' and turned to me. And I stood there, panting like a madman, and Mini gave my ear to father's hand. Do you need to say anything else now?