Situation:

24% of Bangladesh’s population can’t read or write. But there are marvelous storytellers among them who share stories by orally. These stories are deeply rooted into our culture. When these people pass away, not only the stories but a part of our culture continues to be lost. also, Several educated writers plagiarize, steal, and claim these stories as their own because they rarely find publication.The original storytellers receive no credit, payment, or acknowledgement in return.

Brief:

Bidyanondo Publication has always provided opportunities to young unpublished authors. But this year they wanted to showcase people who weren't even supposed to write stories.

Objective:

The objectives were to provide preserve stories that are being lost, create a platform for storytellers who can't write, and showcase new stories to readers.

Due respect, renumeration, and credit was provided to the original storytellers.

A platform was created to annually publish stories of those who can't write.

Stories and parts of Bangladesh's culture continues to be preserved.

Immense popularity across social media.

Covered by most national media outlets.

Half of the money generated from sales continues to be given as royalties, and the other half goes to educational charities to help future generations read and write.

500 stories collected from all over the country.

Books stocked out in 2 days.

11,005 copies sold.

Post reached 14,543,289 people

Engage 787,959 people on facebook

PR Value 100,000 USD

Image 1:

The Unwritten Stories

Image 2:

The Unwritten Stories

Rewritten by

Farooq Ahmed

Mizanur Rahman Saikat

Omar Farooq

Mobaraq Hossain

Bidyanondo Publications

Image 3:

Bidyanondo First Edition

First Edition: Book Fair 2023

Copyright © Bidyanondo

Publisher:

On behalf of Bidyanondo Publications

Kishor Kumar Das

Bidyanondo Publications

House-13, second floor, road-2/B, Mirpur eleven and a half, Dhaka-1216

245 Bayejid Bostami road, 2nd gate, Chattogram.

Cover Artist

Thumbprint: Helim Bhuiya

Title calligraphy: Emtazul Haque

Font designer: Menon, Nishan Computer, Bangla Bazar, Dhaka

Printing: Ms Tanveer Printings, 28 Hemendra Das Road, Sutrapur, Dhaka-1100

Price: One Hundred Fifty Taka only

The Unwritten Stories, A story Collection by

Bidyanondo Foundation

Published by Bidyanondo Publications

Published: Book Fair 2023

Price: One Hundred Fifty Taka only| $2

ISBN 978-984-97216-4-2

Image 4:

Dedication

To all the martyrs who sacrificed their lives

for the Bangla language, for Bangladesh,

despite of not knowing how to read or write.

Image 5:

Introduction

The grandma figure I started hearing stories from, couldn’t read or write either. All those stories, as sweet as honey, are lost today with their deaths. Their made-up stories are still alive in the spoken form. Some of the stories appeared again in some authors’ collections, but they never became storytellers. This too is a form of denial, a form of injustice. Bidyanondo witnessed thousands of stories like this while working on the ground, and we wanted to bring them to light. To publish the names of the original storytellers. To publish the books of those who can’t write! Illiterate people have always remained as characters in this world. Through this book, the characters crafted in their imagination are taking shape. I am grateful for the volunteers, who tried to collect stories day after day, be it rain or shine, from one village to another. I thank the Asiatic team, who helped make this dream a reality. All the expenses for publishing this book will be borne by Bidyanondo, but 100% of the profits will be given to these new storytellers.

- Kishor Kumar Das

Table of Content

A Rifle and Three Boys - Joynal Uddin

The Midnight Visitor - Mainuddin Majhi

Greed for Gold - Ruhul Amin

In Palm Tree’s Shelter - Jakir Patowari

A Poisonous Legacy - Sirajul Islam

Storm or Fear of Loss - Moslem Howlader

Moju Thief - Ashutosh Chakrabarti

Buffalo Hunting – Naren Mondol

The Duet - Momela Bibi and Shahidul Shikder

Turtle - Bidhan Howlader

Aila - Jakir Hossain

Ghost’s Spiral - Karim Ullah

Joynal Uddin

Bio: Joynal Uddin, father Siddiqur Rahman. He cannot work anymore due to physical illness. He would do any work that was available when he used to work. He lives in Charaikandi village of Sonagazi upazila of Feni district.He is 65 years old.

A Rifle and Three Boys

Birantala, a riverside village. No one can remember the history of this name now. Nobody really cares about the name anymore. It’s village of simpletons. Most of the people are farmers, at night the elders tell the stories of the kings and their advisors’ sons rescuing the princess. They spend their days together in happiness and sadness. This is how their life was passing by. A double-edged rifle brought curse to the lives of villagers.

Nearly at the end of the 19th century, the country was under military rule. The people of the village did not care whether the ruler is an evil king or the military. However, like the whole country, the wind of the election had somewhat affected the people of Birantala. Many people laugh and joke about this amongst themselves. There will be a vote in the country, what do we do in this vote? We poor people will remain poor, leaders like Mozaffar and Belayet will benefit. Meetings will be frequent, and they will earn some extra money.

That day, there was another gathering and each leader talked about this and that. People laughed upon hearing them.

The people of this area are very fond of Mr. Haque. If he wins, Mr. Haque will be their leader. He's brave like a tiger. Just as the name means right, so are his work. There is a proverb in the village, spoken right just like Mr. Haque.

Birantala Primary School had a polling station for the people of three neighbouring villages. A sense of happiness could be observed among the people of the village. There was a feeling that the people of Bashtala and Jikirgondi villages will have to vote here in Birantala. Another thing is that all the girls of Birantala who are married in that village had come to their paternal homes two days before the polls.

But the happiest were the children. Without having a clue about the situation, they were very excited. When you vote, they put black ink on your hand. The ink doesn't come off for days. Someone came with a wise look and said aunt asked you to rub it with potatoes to get rid of the stain within an hour and if the stain is removed you can vote again. Childrenhad a fun time during this period.

On election day, everything was going well. An unwritten competition started among the sons-in-law of the village as to who wore the most beautiful clothes and went to vote, even though everyone went to the polling station wearing ragged clothes. That day was a holiday like Eid day. There was no going to work, or to the field. Everyone was having a good time in the tea shops with good conversations. Children were competing to get closer to the polling station in groups, and to see who can run first with the Ansar's batons. Oh, what a joy!

In the evening, after the counting of votes, the joyous procession came out on the streets, almost all of Birantala centre votes were for Mr. Haque. Procession's language was also so beautiful! The atmosphere of Birantala was really heating up with various slogans like "The ground of Birantala is the base of Mr. Haque".

After eating, everyone went back to their homes, many people stayed back at the tea shop to listen to the election results of the whole country on the transistor radio and the rest went back home to hear the news tomorrow. It was a good day for the people of Birantala. Who knew that a terrible day was waiting for these simple people.

In the morning, an announcement was made over the microphone of the mosque and all the male people of the area were ordered to be present in the Birantala school grounds. If someone was not present, he will be accused, and legal action will be taken. Again, it was said that not even a male person should be absent.

Many people in the village had not even woken up, many were preparing to go to the fields, while the wives were cooking. Hearing this announcement, the men of the village started running towards the school. Yesterday these people also went to school but there was a big difference between going yesterday and now.

Right in the middle of the Birantala school ground, five people were seen with their hands tied, and they were crying and shouting that they did not steal.

The villagers were still unable to understand why there was such an urgent summon or what precious treasure had been stolen that the police came to the area in the morning and tied the boys.

A policeman shouted, "Did you hear that a police rifle was stolen from the polling station yesterday? Initially, these 5 people have been arrested on suspicion. A respectable person in your village told the police about them. Mind you, if anyone knows about this please cooperate with the information or else any suspects can be added to the list until the rifle is found. And those who are coming from outside the village will not leave the village until this is resolved.”

Two of the 5 suspects were the relatives of the village head. After some time, those two were removed from the list of suspects, the other three looked helpless and cried saying that they did not steal.

The biggest similarity between the three suspects was that they were children of the poorest families in the village. Among them, Rasul Mia's family had a small house next to the school on a small plot of land given by the Talukdars. For some reason the police were angrier towards him; the arrow of suspicion was coming towards him more. The other two Salam and Nitai also didn't understand why they were suspects. If you are poor, you are a thief? That too a rifle? What will they do with this rifle? They’ll be happy if they can have two meals a day. But who will explain this to the big gentleman with huge moustache?

There is a proverb... The cup is hotter than the tea. That day’s proceedings just proved that. The second man was more aggravated than the head of the police station. His name was also... Mash’Allah! Khandkar Akhlakh Uddin, whose Akhlakh was so good that he had to use cuss words in every sentence. He kicked Rasool in the back and said “where is the rifle, you rascal? Tell me now otherwise I will put the rifle where the sun doesn’t shine.” Then his real game began, spitting out insults and beating as hard as he could with his hands and feet.

“Just tell me where you are keeping the rifle, or you are finished.” The torture went on from morning to noon, but no one could trace the rifle. This time the junior constable Akhlaq came to his senses, took a 10-inch needle and heated it to poke Rasul's left big toe, his screams shook the sky, but neither Akhlaq Daroga nor anyone else showed any mercy. At one point, unable to bear the pain, Rasool shouted, "O Abba, O Abba, I threw the rifle in Talukdar's pond." “The thief finally admits.” The senior constable looks at him admiringly. There was a commotion among all, the chaos of throwing nets in the Talukdar Pond began, each one was trying to find the rifle with nets. Big fishes were caught in the net, but no rifle was found. Rasool, Salam and Nitai were attacked by the constable's followers.

A few of the big fish caught in the nets became their lunch. The senior policeman let out a sigh. Four irrigators had been installed at the four corners of the pond, many villagers crowded the banks of the pond, the beard of Mr. Mukhles had never seen this pond irrigated in his life. It's a joke, the power of the police in one word is big Talukdar and Kait. In the evening everyone's enthusiasm subsides, the water will not run out before morning, everyone goes home. In one corner of the field lie only three unfortunate human children Rasool Salam and Nitai. Inhumans don't even let them eat lunch. Blood is still dripping from Rasul's toe, where it fell there is a dark spot of blood. No one from the family is allowed to come near. At night, three people are accommodated on the floor of a school room. And two policemen are guarding them. In the morning, the rest of the robbers went back after talking about the recovery of the rifle. The luck of the three people got a few kicks. Even if the rice is not cooked, at least the kick is being eaten continuously. What else is needed to eat, that's what these gentlemen are thinking.

In the morning, the entire village was searched, but no trace of the rifle was found in the pond, even after several attempts, nothing was found. Akhlakh Daroga hissed. "Son of the prisoner, you are making fun of me, I am making fun of you" said the order to bring some big bamboos. The pieces are cut to a certain size and passed up and down to Rasool and waved in Akhlakh's own way. Every time Rasool screams, the area shakes, but no one can say anything. On the 3rd time, Rasool shouted again, "O Abba, O Abba, I am hiding the rifle under the pile of ashes of the murderer's house, forgive me, Abba." Blood came out of Rasool's mouth, Rasool fainted.

The residents rushed to the pile of ashes with two policemen, all the ashes were turned over and the golden deer rifle was not found.

In this way, every time after eating a piece of bamboo, Rasool searched for a new place, but the rifle was nowhere to be found. Rasul, Salam and Nitai were taken to the police station after not being able to find any trace of the rifle for two consecutive days. Rasool is still alive and may be cursing himself for being alive, if he died, he wouldn't have to bear this pain anymore, his tears have dried up, he has no strength to cry anymore. He blames himself why he was born poor in this world.

They got some relief at the police station, trial proceedings have started, they have been taken to court twice, they say the same thing again and again, they don't know anything.

And so, the days go on, days go by, weeks go by, months go by. Meanwhile, Ramadan comes, Rasool, Salam and Nitai think of home, three months and eleven days after losing the rifle, they hear the desired word. Kabiraj's younger son Hasnat found a rifle in the net while fishing in the pond of Kabiraj's home. He brought it to the police station and submitted it.

Counting the wait this time, when will the three be released, will they be released? Can you go home before Eid? Who cares about going home on Eid. It takes days to think about this. On the eve of Eid, when they give up hope of returning home, they wish to spend the eternal Eid with their families...

In the afternoon, the three people suddenly called, the old man turned to the other side and said to the three of them "Go back home, don't steal anymore, if you bring them here again, I won't be able to go back, I won't be able to get them except today, I am asking you to release the three of them tomorrow morning" North Deyana, bowed her head and came out.

It is the morning of Eid, the morning sun is announcing the new morning as it likes, three children of this soil are walking along the path of Birantala village with their feet unsteady, Nitai and Salam are holding Rasool from both sides, maybe one day they will be able to walk straight again. , the people of the village will forget everything, but Rasul Nitai and Salam do not know if they will be able to forget this or if the person who died inside will ever be able to stand straight again????

Mainuddin Majhi

Bio: Mainuddin Majhi, father Siraj Alam. He was born in Latakhali village of Manpura upazila in Bhola district. He is a sailor and fisherman by profession. Since childhood, he has been going to the sea to catch fish. He chose the profession of his father and grandfather by his own volition. His philosophy about life is, "I am doing well. I just have to continue living like this for a while."

The Midnight Visitor

It's two o'clock in the morning on Matin Majhi's watch, it took a long time to cast the first net today, let's sleep for a while, Matin Majhi thought to himself. Paush Mysa is becoming a liability in the river in winter. Nothing can be seen because of the fog and the wind blows over it. The bones of the body tremble. This poor fisherman of Manpura, along with his 14-year-old son and four other people from Char are coming to fish in Meghna today because of his stomach. Since the arrival of the winter season, the number of robbers in Meghna has increased so much that Matin Majhi decided to go and sleep a little away after casting his net. Matin Majhi trawler anchored a little away. Everyone was sent to the cabin to sleep. And Matin Majhi sleeps with Ekta Kantha on top of the cabin. In the river, the boat sways in its own rhythm due to the pull of the tide. Matin Mazheer wakes up to the sound of an unfamiliar male voice. Dad gives me a headache? This stranger kept saying this again and again. Matin Majhi sat up and woke up. the robber

Panic creeps in more and more in the mind. Looking carefully in the light of the full moon, a middle-aged stranger is standing in front. Put a sentu genji on the old one and a new towel. No clothes are worn underneath. Undressed from waist to feet. The man shows no qualms about the fact that he is wearing no clothes. Just one word to give me a headache? Matin Majhi's sleep disappeared from his eyes. He called all the sleepers in the cabin and asked the stranger to give a kantha. The sailor took out his mobile phone and called the boat anchored nearby but no one answered. Seeing the mobile in the hand of the sailor, how the stranger's choked up, he wants to take the mobile. Matin Majhi got more scared. He thought that this man must be a member of a gang. Taking the mobile from his hand, the dacoit calls others in the group and plans to kill them and take away the fish. He never misses the mobile phone. Matin Majhi's son brings a kantha and gives it to the stranger, and the man takes the kantha to his nose.

He sniffed it and threw it into the river. Everyone is more afraid of this behavior. This time the man kept saying "go to the inner river to catch fish" Matin Majhi said they had already cast the net in the river. He wants to know the identity of the stranger but there is no sign of answering him. Matin Majhi cannot account for how a single man swam in the river current on this winter night to his trawler, which is quite impossible for a human being. Although these thoughts do not take much place in the mind due to the fear of robbers. He thoughtlessly steered the boat towards the shore without the stranger repeatedly beckoning him to go towards the shore. Matin Majhi did not listen to the stranger. This time, the newcomer is resting on the nets kept in the trawler's shed. No more words or gestures. When the trawler reaches the Janata Ghat in Manpura, Matin Majhi motions the visitor to get down, but there is no reaction from him. The four strangers in the boat tried to pull him down but could not move him. A man cannot be so heavy, but why four young men cannot move him. Matin Majhi forced everyone in the name of God and pushed the stranger into the river after many attempts. The stranger does not utter a word. There is no sound like a man falling from a boat into the water Matin Majhi, after throwing the stranger into the water, felt as if a cotton bag had been floated in the water.

The stranger fell from the trawler into the water and silently stared at the trawler of Matin Majhi standing with his chest in the water. Mateen Majhi quickly moved the trawler away. Even then, the stranger looked at him with the same gaze. Matin Majhi saw the newcomer looking at him in the same way until he was out of sight. I have survived today. Let's go and lift the nets in the river and see how the fish are being caught. Matin Majhi thinks in his mind. Matin Majhi was surprised when he lifted the net from the river. This has never happened in the last thirty years of fishing history. Not a single fish was caught in the net. This is not supposed to happen. Matin Majhi is afraid about the newcomer. Was the man really human?

Aziz Majhir got angry. Ignoring the fear, the anger casts the net again in another place. After waiting for a long time, Matin Majhi lifted the net. This time, not even a fish caught in the net.

The light of dawn has spread all around. Matin Majhi walked home empty-handed without thinking back. Matin Majhi came to Janata Bazaar Ghat to find the stranger. He could not see anything in the place where he was left. After going to the market and looking for people, they could not find any trace of the stranger. Matin Majhi sat on the bank of the river and started thinking about that midnight visitor. Is there really a person of flesh and blood in his trawler tomorrow, or was it something else? Then a big mistake has been made, the man did not harm him, so why did he throw him into the water?

The next night Matin Majhi goes to the river again to catch fish, as usual he casts his net twice in the river. But even today not a single fish is caught in his net. Onto suddenly fell under the storm in the middle of the river. There is no reason to storm the river on this winter night. He knows this storm is no ordinary storm. In any way Allah is saved from danger by taking the name of God. With the trawler. Returning home with life in a tired body. His mind filled with despair. He has committed a great sin. His livelihood is in this river, it is not a human act to throw away a guest of that river like this.

He understood that this trawler was at fault. Blame must be passed. Otherwise, you must lose your life along with the trawler.

The next day, Matin Majhi ransacked his much-loved trawler. He broke the wood one by one from the trawler. And sets fire to the trawler and prays to the Creator in his heart that his sins may be burnt away along with this trawler.

Matin Majhi then went back to the river to catch fish, made a new trawler. With the passage of time, the age is increasing, the hair and beard are all ripe.

Even Matin Majhi cannot forget that night. He looks for the stranger in his mind. At night, he casts a net in the river and waits, maybe the stranger who is lost in the depths of memory will come out again from the river.

Ruhul Amin

Bio: Ruhul Amin, father Mattaz Uddin. He has surpassed the age of 80. His residence is in Charaikandi village of Sonagazi upazila in Feni district. He did whatever work he could find in life and went to neighboring countries India and Myanmar and worked for the sake of livelihood. He can’t work anymore now and is waiting for a beautiful end to his lonely life after losing his beloved wife.

Golden Greed

Do the work with your hands, I will finish the work before the Fajr Azan. Don't you remember what Pir Saab said? On the full moon day of the month of Magh, work will be done before dawn. After giving the Fajr Azan, he did not stay for a minute, there was not much time left. The rascals again smoke cigarettes.

Idris Ali was furious with the others. Kalu Mia, Hasan Munshi, and Sonu Khona are the three companions of Idris Mia. According to Mahila-Pir, four people have been digging the soil under the twin palm trees on the south bank of Daulat Chowdhury Dighi, the oldest in the area, since midnight. You can only pick up the urn of gold tonight, or this treasure will never be found again. This is what female-pir Batasi Begum said. Idris Ali is older than the other three. Although Idris Ali is working harder. Gold pitcher, is it grandfather's home? How can you get it if you don't get the last one?

Since then, the sound of something is getting after a while. It is similar to the sound made when copper is mixed with iron. But nothing exists yet. After each word received, the work speed increases but the profit gain is nothing. Idris Ali began to swear louder, sometimes abusing himself, sometimes Bhagya and sometimes the three people with him. The face and hands continue to move together, the sound of water from the pond becomes monotonous with the sound of the spade falling on the ground, after a while the sound of adhan comes from the distant mosque………… Assalatu khairum minan naum………

Idris Ali threw away the spade and rolled in the hole he made in search of gold, howling and crying, at one point he fainted. The three others fled in fear after seeing this situation. The next morning the villagers found Idris Ali dead in his own hole.

The name of the village is Tulatuli, which is pretty much what Ajpara village means.

When talking about the people were not so complicated, the village people were simple in nature, there were no quarrels or fights among themselves; Poor man, yet life would go on laughing. There is no rice in the stomach but the smile on the face would have been fine. Greed was never a thing among these simple people, the irony of fate is that many poor people had to be caught by that greed.

So, let's tell the story from the beginning. The story is about a woman, a mystery, or many deceived people.

In the village, the honor of the house always comes first, everyone respects and trusts the people of the house. Today I suddenly saw the women of the village running in groups towards the house, who knows who is coming from a far country, like a secret, no one is talking loudly. One is whispering to the other, how do you know what is going on here. The men of the village did not pay much attention to the matter, everyone was busy with work, maybe it was the matter of girls and boys. What harm lies in a small fib?

Allah please, bring some water.

The skill of spreading rumors among the women of the village is good, it has become known from ear to ear.

Some time ago Rokeya's younger brother's wife whispered the story to Rokeya.

"Rokeya, what happened Huincheni, before you believe me, I say ignorantly whose house, many people don't know, let's see what's up with my sister."

Saying this, Rokeya's newly wedded new wife goes to Bali's house. It's like a festival in the village.

On the other hand, God's business has started in the backyard, people are curious, what is going on? Twisting the coil, the smoke is rising in the sky, every now and then Batasi Begum is throwing it into the fire, as if she is whispering to the fire.

It seems that someone is talking to Batasi Begum from the fire.

This has been going on for the last three hours, the crowd on the left side of the fire is slowly increasing

slowly Zarina's mother of Chakida's house stood on the right side at first, but Batasi got up with a shout, "No one should stand on the right side, he should come and go from this side" since then no one else stood on the right side. And no one dared to ask why he came and went.

No one knows the identity of Batasi Begum, only they know that a pir came to Bali's house early this morning and built a shelter. Everyone believes and doing, what is the way not to believe? I don't want anything in return.

There are so many things in the world of God, if one can give gold as much as he wants, what is the worst.

As Zohra Begum is carrying a stick in her hand even at this old age, if there is any luck, the father will be useful in the marriage of the unmarried girl.

It is heard that Batasi Pir will give 1 kg of gold, but no one will get it. He will give this gold only to those in whose affairs a hint of Tina can be found.

Batasi Begum spoke for everyone.

Hunen Amnera, Ai Batasi. I don't understand Pir Faqiri, I don't know Tuk Tak and Ai, I just understand that the fruit of faith is Mida. If you believe, you will pay. Do not draw anything more than that.

The words seem spiritual to the people of the village, faith in Batasi Begum increases.

Batasi Begim cried out, "I will conquer, great conqueror, I will slaughter hundreds of cows, I will eat millions of people, he will be happy."

No one understands anything, just shakes his head, and says right, right.

Batasi announced to organize a big meal, for this he will need money, but he will not take money from anyone, only those who will get gold will pay 500 taka, 500 taka is a kg of gold, it is not the price of gold, in his words, it is given in his honor. Just join. Only pieces of clay will turn into gold if he is happy. There is one more condition, it cannot be doubted in any way, then no work will be done.

Batasi Begum became silent again, after being silent for some time, she pointed to someone and called forward, village housewife Aleya came forward with fear, Batasi said, you will take 500 rupees after dawn, let's take gold, I will go to the secret place of that gold house. Puti Raikhbi. On the full moon of the month of Iyer Magh, Rai, Tuilbi is below the ground after dawn. I will do whatever you want with that gold.

Batasi Begum calls the lucky ones who will get gold one by one. And he gives instructions to everyone in his own way.

The next day everyone took a heavy bag wrapped in black cloth from Batasi Begum with money. Batasi Begum says no one should open that bag before Purnima. That day, Batasi went to a distant village with the money. And it is said that on the night of the full moon on the bank of the river in the south, the invitation of Zeyawat is given.

In this way, till the day before Purnima, the wind keeps moving from one village to another. No one sees him eat anything, does not see him sleep. Batasi only talks to herself in her mind. In this, people's devotion started to increase.

At a place next to the river, a four-storey house was erected overnight by Batasi Begum, the people of that village built the house together and worshiped. Hundreds of people crowd around that house.

One hope of everyone is that many golds will be found. No one will be poor.

A big meal is organized on the bank of the river just as he said on the specified day. Many people do not understand how this is organized. Some give cows, some give goats, this is how everything happens. People of ten villages eat their fill with satisfaction. After eating, everyone goes to sleep in the evening. Gold will be available tomorrow. The excitement among everyone seems to increase the sleepiness. Everyone in the neighboring village is lost in sleep.

The entire area was in turmoil after two incidents after dawn, the death of Idris Ali moving people more than the disappointment of not getting the gold. No one finds the existence of gold in the bag given by Batasi Begum. Nothing is found in that bag except a lump of soil. Everyone erupted in anger. Idris's body was left in the hole he had made, and the area ran towards Batasi Begum's dugout with a stale stick.

Going there, everyone's anger turned into disappointment, seeing Batasi Begum wearing a white saree and sleeping like forever in Ishan Kone's room of her house.

The bag of 500 Taka taken from everyone is lying at the feet.

The simple people of the village still cannot understand why Batasi Begum or Batasi Mahila Pir did that.

He was buried in that room of Batasi's house. A few years ago, the grave was washed away by the river.

Today, in the discussion of village elders, the talk of Batasi Begum or Idris Ali, who is still lying on the bank of Daulat Chowdhury Dighir, comes up in the discussion of greed for gold.

Zakir Patwari

Bio: Zakir Patwari, Father Altafur Rahman. He was born and raised in Dhal Char of Char Fashion Upazila of the Island District Bhola. It's effortless for him to narrate a tale of how someone survived amid a river break or natural disaster using simple words. He runs a tiny clothing store in Dhal Char market.as a means of making a living.

In Palm Tree’s Shelter

The sky of Dhal Char has been behaving strangely since this evening, one after another lightning strikes and thunderbolts are hitting the house. On the other hand, how serious is the river water.

This environment is very familiar to the people who settled here. Something sinister is coming. One evening in 1991, how the people of Char were disoriented by the behaviour of the sky and the river. Many of the elders gather and discuss any past storms, warning the people of Char. Advises everyone to stay together. Some suggest going to a shelter.

There is only one cyclone centre in this slope. A fourth part of the pasture will not be a place for people. After that some people go towards Cyclone Centre. Many are preparing to go.

Sabina Begum called her dead three children and told them to go to the cyclone centre. If there is a real tide, this house of his thatched fence will be washed away with the first blow. The mind still does not want to accept. This house is their everything. Still, Sabina Begum continued to pack the necessary things to go to a safe shelter.

The first blow of the tide hit around 10pm. Sabina Begum was still in her room. Quickly sat on the rice with the two boys and the girl. The water reaches the height of the house rice in a short time. Sabina Begum tells her elder son Samad to look around to see if any safe shelter can be found. Samad is a young boy, twenty-three years old. He groped and found a shield of palm trees next to the house. That shield of thorny palm holds fast. One by one the mother, sister, younger brother was brought and sat on the palm tree. Thorns can be in different parts of the body. There may also be a lot of blood that washes away with the tidal current. The four hold each other's shields with one hand and the other with the khuj tree.

With the certainty of death in front of their eyes, the four are sitting silently on the top of the palm tree. They see the house they live in before their eyes. No one said anything. Only Sabina Begum's eyes kept dripping with salt water which mixed with the salt water of the ocean.

As time passed by, they were accompanied by the fear of death. See how many things float in front of the eyes in the dim light. Samad's younger sister started breaking the heads of the palm thorn one by one, the younger brother also joined the sister. They do the work with so much attention as if there is no more important work in the world. This is how time goes by. At one time all the thorns of the palm tree were broken. They sit a little more comfortably. Samad's younger sister cried and said, "Where are we going to stay, we don't have any house anymore?" Sabina Begum said nothing. He just kept looking at the girl.

After about four hours the tide began to recede, dropping by an inch or two before dawn, all of the water returning to its destination. When leaving, he took the last piece of shelter of thousands of people like Sabina Begum.

Sabina Begum did not come down from the palm tree after the morning light. It is as if someone has tied them to this palm tree with an invisible rope. Those who were in different safe shelters in Char came out together. They started to find out who their neighbors are and who has been swept away by the current of destruction.

Aslam Majhi's body was found stuck between the branches of a small palm tree. The poor man tried to protect himself by climbing the palm tree in front of the tidal water. He was not saved in the end. The first wave of the tide pushed the boatman into a gap in the slope below the tree. And it was there that Aslam Majhi, who took the last breath of his life and walked with the biggest trawler of Dhal Char in the ocean.

No one in Char can tell any news about the four families who built their houses on the banks of the river. On the way to the shelter, everyone is swept away by the current, they will never come back again.

After a while to find out, each person is reported to be missing.

Neighbors took Sabina Begum and her children down from the palm tree one by one. Everyone has become like a doll. No words. Sabina Begum's little girl hugged the palm tree and cried silently. No one stops him.

The people of Char have thus made themselves stones. Now is the time to mourn. They want to move around with new enthusiasm. They may turn around after a few years. Then wait again for a new disaster.

Sirajul Islam

Bio: Sirajul Islam, Father Haji Abdur Rashid. As a young man he worked as a porter and later, He carried out any job that was asked of him to make a living. Sirajul Islam is well known for his ability to neutralize snake venom, and everyone knows him by a single name for this. He was born in Dhal Char of Char Fashion Upazila of the Island District Bhola.

A Poisonous Legacy

Aziz Munsi's profession is to remove poison from snakes. Although it is more appropriate to call it addiction or sense of responsibility than profession. Because Aziz Munshi never accepted any money in exchange for removing poison from snakes.

Aziz Munsi's mother said before her death

"Father, God Almighty has given you the ability to do one thing, you can remove the poison of the snake, promise me that you will never return the poison of the snake?"

Aziz Munshi kept his promise to his mother. For the last fifty years it has been doing the work of de-venoming snakes efficiently without any exchange.

Aziz Munshi's bus in Parir Dwip. Aziz Munshi was born on this island rising in the Bay of Bengal. Here the ocean survives and fights with life.

Being a grazing area, there is no shortage of snakes. How many colors and varieties of snakes can be seen in the fairy island. Although Aziz Munshi never learned to be afraid of snakes in life. His teacher Halim Shah has taught him everything. He has been walking along that path for so long.

Aziz Munshi is a very poor man. Do not boil rice for three meals, cook it yourself and eat it. After the death of his wife, he took care of himself.

The sad thing is that so far 367 snake bite patients have been cured but he has not had the chance to save his wife.

About young age, married Bhola left his new wife and went to Sadar in search of work. Meanwhile, Aziz Munsi's wife Hanufa was bitten by an unknown snake on a stormy night.

There was no one on this island except Aziz Munshi to remove the poison from snakes. There was no mobile telephone system then to call Aziz Munshi to come. Because of the storm, the sea is rough, there is no chance that any pasture will be taken to the side.

Then the islanders tried to treat the previous snakebite patient. No profit. The wife died after suffering unbearable pain for two days. Two weeks after her death, Aziz returned to Munshi Island and found his wife's grave.

And that day he decided never to leave the island and never to go out and since then he has been on this island without eating. Didn't go out even once.

That morning, Salim Feda, the moneylender of the area, came running to Aziz Munsi. Salim Feda never came to Aziz Munsi's house himself, he used to send servants if necessary.

Today, Aziz Munshi was a little shocked to see Salim Feda running like this. Even big people like Selim Feda appear at the poor house. Salim Feda chokes back his tears and says, "Aziz brother, save me in Polatare, the nation has been bitten by a snake, Hanak snake (Gokhra snake), you go now."

Aziz Munshi rushes to Salim Feder's house. Salim Feather young boy lying on a mat. The color of the body has turned black, the foam is coming out of the mouth and the mat is wet. There is a crying roll in the house, everyone thinks that this boy will not live anymore. Since Aziz Munshi has come, let him try the last attempt.

Meanwhile, Aziz Munshi has started his work. First, Aziz Munshi performs the work of Gha Moani i.e., cleans the wound with water by reciting the mantra. After that, the snake's teeth were pulled out one by one with skillful hands.

After biting, many times the snake's teeth remain broken inside. Aziz Munshi with experienced hands extracted five broken teeth. After that, the work of tying the door started by reciting the mantra.

"I salute Maa Mansa, Kali Sundar Kana Kali, Swarpa Rani comes in my dream, the divine words of the water god, I washed my hands and did not poison them, I did not poison them in this hand, I closed the door, I did not kill them..." ..."

Aziz Munshi tied the door to the big toe of the snake-bitten foot while chanting the mantra and kept chanting the poison like a cow milking a cow. Put a needle on the tip of the finger.

Poisonous black blood kept pouring out, and Selim Feder's son did not regain consciousness after being poisoned seven times.

Aziz Munsi's forehead became worried, on the other hand, the sound of crying of the women of Salim Fedar's house started to rise in parallel. Salim Feda held Aziz Munsi's hand and wept.

Aziz's brother, I have only one shell, do something Aziz's brother, the owner of my wealth is lying on the ground, you pick him up Aziz's brother.

How upset Aziz Munshi is. He remembers last month's use of Salim's feather. Salim Feder staged a dharna at his house to work at Shutki's kholla.

Salim Feda said with a smile

You deal with snake skins. Can you work on my dry skin? And you do not understand anything about dry cleaning, you have never worked. Bapu, I will not work with you.

I am telling the maid to give me rice with aadhas, don't be bitter in the morning. Aziz Munshi came back humiliated without rice; he was no longer a beggar. Don't think about it now. Remembering all the mantras learned from Guru Halim Shah about the name of Allah, he started with new enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Maghreb's call to prayer has fallen, blood has already been drawn from the body. The blackness of the body is gone. Aziz Munshi has not eaten anything since morning. It has never taken him so long; he promised not to throw water without curing this patient.

Aziz Munshi continued to cast spells. Finally, when he decides that if the patient does not wake up this time, Selim will tell Feda to dig the grave.

It's been almost ten minutes since the last door was opened, Aziz Munshi is looking anxiously at the unblinking gaze. The pupil of the patient's eye twitches as if several times. Aziz Munshi did not see the mistake?

Dismissing everyone from the room, Aziz Munshi looked at the patient, like a hunter looking at his targeted prey.

After a while, Selim Feda's son opened his eyes and looked. Trying to say something.

Aziz Munshi came out of the house like a winner and whispered to Salim Feda and said, your son is fine, talk to him, let him eat good and bad. These words say something to Selim Feda

Without giving him a chance to speak, he walked on tired legs towards his broken home. Salim Feda sent ten notes of one hundred rupees through the workman, Aziz Munshi sent them back. Aziz Munshi used to avoid Selim Feda after that.

Today, after many days, Aziz Munshi reminisces about this incident. That was eighteen twenty years ago. Salim Feda died last year. His son is everything now. Dominant in the island.

He became a bigger man than his father. There is no account of money. Although the practice of ritual has been more common than the father. This morning old Aziz Munshi was crossing the road, suddenly a car came from nowhere and braked almost on Aziz Munshi's body. A little more Aziz Munshi would have fallen under the car. Salim Feder's son got out of the car and threw Aziz Munsi from the road to the ground with a blow.

The old man kept saying that he wanted to die by drowning in the sea and dying in front of my car. Saying this, the car sped away.

Aziz Munshi wandered in the world of memories in his mind. Gokhara was able to extract the snake poison from the body of this boy that day.

The poison of the clan that the boy was carrying in his body remained in his body, that is why he could use it like that.

Thinks Aziz Munshi. It is true that Aziz Munshi has learned the mantra to remove snake poison from Ustad Halim Shah, but Aziz Munshi has not learned any mantra to remove the poison which is more dangerous than snake poison.

Moslem Howladar

Bio: Moslem Howladar, he was born in Char Kajal of Rangabali Upazila of Patuakhali District. He is a day laborer by profession. Age 50 years.

Storm or Fear of Loss

My elder brother is keeping my hands on the top of a coconut tree and covering my whole body with cloth so that I don't fall into the water.

It happened many years ago. That would be about forty-two years ago. Millions of people seem to have died that time. What a storm, God!

I was young then. Rain, wind for days. I heard the signal in the sea. Everyone is moving to the shelter, we cannot go. I can't say why I didn't go. There was elder brother, me, my nephew and few others. My father died a long time ago. There was no dam in the village then. Since the evening, sea water has entered, and the river is swelling. The wind speed is also increasing with the rain. Brother came and asked to climb the coconut tree. How to climb the coconut tree in this storm? My brother came and pushed me to the top of a coconut tree. Then they tied my hands tightly to the tree and wrapped me with a cloth so that I would not fall from the tree. Don't drown in the water of Ban again. Brother said my nephew is kept in paddy shell. Continuous rainstorm, lightning strikes again. My condition is very bad due to fear. It's dark, then I'm wrapped in cloth, nothing can be seen. I felt terribly helpless on the branch of a tree alone. Various fears were working in the mind. The wind picks up and I feel like I'm being thrown out of the tree, tearing my arms apart. I am only calling Allah. The wind is blowing. Sometimes it seemed that the apocalypse had begun, the sound of Israfil's flute could be heard through the wet clothes from afar. I sensed that a terrible frenzy had begun which would rob us of many things. Our village, surrounding houses, trees in front of our eyes, cows and goats. The biggest fear was acting like losing my parents. This thought was fleeting, and with every change in the storm the thought changed. The jump of the wind would actually bend the coconut tree and hang on the other side, I would forget my previous thoughts in fear, new fears would crowd my mind. Most of the time there was a desire to return alive to God. At one time, it seemed that both hands were going to be torn off, and my hands would be torn off and carried away with the bun. One moment I would curl up in fear of death, the next the pain would feel like my hands would be torn off. If I was afraid, I would feel less pain, and if I was in pain, I would forget about fear in a moment.

The thought of how my little body of nine or ten years of age was able to withstand so much pressure later seemed a mystery to me. God is saving.

At one point, my body was tired. A dizziness comes over the body, my thoughts start to blur, it seems that the world has calmed down. Can't feel storm, wind, rain. Suddenly my mother's face came to my mind. I felt like I was lying quietly in my mother's arms. I don't remember anything after that.

No, my mother died when I was one and a half years old. I still don't understand well. I heard that my mother died during delivery when my younger sister was born. First, the younger sister died on the day of delivery, followed by the mother ten days later.

I pass out from exhaustion, by which time the storm is over. I am wrapped in clothes on the top of a coconut tree. I regained consciousness the next afternoon. I don't know when the storm ended, after I regained consciousness, a villager rescued me after hearing my cries. By the time I was brought down, hundreds of people had died from the village. Some bodies were found, and most were washed away in the sea. Even though my nephew was found, my brother was never found again since that day. I get scared when I wear a signal at sea. I lost my parents before I knew it, and the storm took my brother away. The fear of storms never bothers me, but the fear of losing always bothers me.

Ashutosh Chakrabarti

Bio: Father, Anonto Kumar Chakrabarti. Everybody knows him as thakur. He works as a woodcutter. No matter how big the tree is, everybody in the area calls for Ashutosh Chakrabarti. Aged 85. Even at this age, he still works at this age to earn a livelihood.

Moju Thief

Mujibur Rahman was named after his father. Mother used to call Mojib Khan affectionately. And the people of the village are now called Mozu Chora. Mujibar is not very sad about this. Why would he be sad because his profession is stealing people can call thieves. His objection is that when someone in the village loses something, everyone calls him a hoard thief. All the people in the village think they are saints, and he alone is a thief. The big thieves walk around with a solemn attitude, no one tells them anything. There is no one to talk about the fact that the chairman and his men steal relief wheat, rice and even tins. Does he have ideals? Whatever he does, he does not do business in his village. According to Mujibar, he does business, the business of stealing. Who will explain it to the people of the village?

It hurts the little boys when their parents point their fingers at him saying, look, he's a stock thief. If you see him around the house, inform the guardians. I will clean up his stealing house.

However, he does not hesitate to steal in ten neighboring villages. That day Sadhan Shah of Batkali village gave away a new bicycle. Beta left the new bicycle unlocked on the side of the road. If he sees such a shiny thing lying in front of his eyes, will he sit and suck Lebansus instead of stealing it?

As actions are results. There should be better education. Sadhan Shah Pakka Sudkhor on him.

Mujibar does not stay in one village for long, today in this village and tomorrow in that village. His is the life of a destitute nomad. Mujibar steals to survive. Not for comfort. He does not steal if he has money to feed his stomach. Only when the pocket is tight does he appear in his true form in his business activities. Another principle he followed was that no one could show any history of Mujibar stealing from a poor man's house.

Mujibar is returning to his village today after a long time. The mind is very excited. Sadhan Shar's bicycle was able to be sold for eleven hundred taka in the streets of Ganj. You can go to the village and stay safe for a while. Although he has no house to live in. He spends the night sleeping on the bench after opening the lock of the balcony of the mosque or any school. God almighty has sent him into the world with the infinite power to open any lock, this power he does not want to use for any evil purpose unless prevented. It was too late to return to the village after finishing the business in Ganj. He cannot tell the exact time as he does not have a watch. However, it seems that the night is not bad. Around the moonlight, Mujibar walked to enjoy the beauty of his birthplace with fascinated eyes. Mujibar stopped as the chairman passed by the house. Mujibar felt the presence of some people near the chairman's house. Mujibar guesses that there will be seven or eight people. All wrapped from head to toe in black cloth. He does not understand that there is a robber in the village. Today, the chairman's house is the target of robbers. He went to Ganj and heard that the youngest son of the chairman's house got married four days ago. The smell of the new wife's gold has drawn these robbers so far.

Mujibur does not understand what he should do. A single man can do nothing against so many people. He is armed with robbers. An idea played in his head. Covering his head, he goes to the mosque secretly. For the first time in his life, after breaking the lock of the mosque, he started calling the residents of the area on the microphone, calling the chairman to go to the house with a stick. Repeatedly informs about bandits in the village.

After a while there was noise in the area. Without understanding, everyone rushed to the chairman's house. By the time everyone rushes to the chairman's backyard, the robbers flee the area. No one can find the robber's ticket. Everyone started looking for who announced on the mic about the robbery in the village? Mujibar comes forward and tries to explain the incident to everyone. But who listens to whom? The chairman said with a shout, who gave you this great responsibility? Where did you get the courage to break the lock of the mosque? It's not too late to say this and it's not too late to slap the sticks of some over-enthusiastic people from around. The chairman said that the stock thief should be tied to a tree in front of his house. He will be tried tomorrow morning in front of everyone. Everyone goes to sleep after tying Mujibar to the cotton tree in front of the chairman's house. Although the robber was not found, the thief was found. Tomorrow will be better, after many days, the stock thief is being caught, this time there is no escape.

Mujibar's trial in the morning. Everyone is asking Mujibar one question after another, but no one has time to listen to the answer. Mujibar kept quiet and listened to everyone. The chairman stops everyone. Aiming at Mujibar, you were not there, how calm the village was, when you started trouble? Thief of the thief's house, how dare you steal from the mosque, break the lock and enter the mosque?

Mujibur can't stop himself even though he tries hard. He said...

Chairman Sub, you are a big man, you can say whatever you want. I am not a thief like you. Last year, during the construction of the mosque, the new wall of your kachari is being built, the people of the area know where they got the bricks for that wall. Chail Dail said no more about wheat theft. Mujibur did not get a chance to speak.

The chairman's men attacked Mujibar, started slapping and hitting him with sticks. After a while the chairman stopped his men and announced the trial. Last night, the people of the area were terrorized in the middle of the night and ordered to break the lock of the mosque and throw the thieves out of the village with a chain of shoes around their necks. Almost everyone is happy with this judgment except a few.

Mujibar left his village with a necklace of shoes around his neck with tears in his eyes. And he said to himself, "Shonre Mozu Chora, when the biggest thieves in the world judge theft, then there is no need to steal anymore to get punished" and Mujibar went out of the village. Since then, no one in this village has seen the thief again.

Naren Mondol

Bio: Naren Mondol, Father Nakul Mondol. He could be around 60 years old. He has been fishing in the rivers ever since he was a child. He grew up in Char Montaj of Rangabali Upazila of Bhola District.

Buffalo Hunting

There is an idea prevalent in the youth community of Char Mantaj that one can tell how big the bull is by catching the wild buffalo of Sonar Char. Most of the people work in fishing, fishing in the river, going to the deep sea to catch hilsa. Life is spent at war with nature. Therefore, these char people never lack courage. A group of such youths' plan to catch buffaloes in Sonar pasture. It has been a couple of years since the last buffalo was brought to graze. After that they had to return empty handed after several attempts. Paresh Mandal sits with his companions at Sanatan's tea shop. It is a matter of honor for Char Mantaz. Even this time, if you don't take the buffalo, there will be no way to show your face in front of people. This time at least one buffalo must be brought at any cost.

Paresh Mandal gives courage to the companions. Nitai, Suresh, Naren and Sanatan joined Paresh. It was decided that they would leave early tomorrow morning for the purpose of five gold miners.

In the morning, everyone leaves with the necessary things in the name of God. Today the environment seems to be good, the boat is moving fast with the tide. They reach their destination within a few hours.

Paresh is the eldest in the group. He has experience of buffalo hunting many times before. Paresh is the leader of this small group. Walking deep into the Charer forest, he found a herd of buffaloes. There will be approximately three hundred buffaloes in this herd. Horrible, it looks like they are approaching a herd of elephants. If you look at them for a long time, you get scared.

First, they target a buffalo with a baby. The mother will surely rush to pull the baby, in this opportunity the mother buffalo can be caught alone. Simple beautiful thoughts. The trap leaves with the rope according to the plan. Meanwhile, buffaloes will actually be caught in leaf traps. Everyone went far away to eat and kept their ears open for any sound. After eating, they spend idle time. The waiting time continues to increase, after a long time everyone hears the call of a baby buffalo, Paresh Mandal approaches without making a sound and sees a baby buffalo being caught in a trap. A good look around does not show any buffalo. Paresh went a little further and looked for the big buffalo but could not find anything. After waiting for a while, Pesh turned around to call his friends, and what he saw froze his hands and feet. Seeing a huge buffalo running towards the neighborhood. Before he could blink, the buffalo came forward, pinning him against a left tree with its huge horns. The tree was uprooted by the impact, the whole forest shook with Paresh's screams. The mad buffalo kept hitting Paresh's body one after another, and Paresh lost consciousness.

The buffalo calmed down a bit after hearing the kid's call, left the enemy on two feet and ran towards the kid next to the uprooted tree. Paresh lies in the forest.

After a long time, Paresh's companions come to look for Paresh, they see a big buffalo with the baby buffalo, Paresh is nowhere to be seen by the companions. They understand what is meant to be understood. Paresh is lying alone in front of the buffalo, whether he is alive or dead, God can only say in which corner. Everyone scattered behind the trees with sticks and sharp sticks. They started looking for the body of their leader Paresh. Nitai was the bravest of the group, she climbed a tree with a rope and made a noise to attract the buffalo's attention. When the buffalo comes under the tree, the Nitai makes a noose and throws it over the buffalo, which is caught in one of the buffalo's horns. Nitai is very happy with her own work. He forgets to tie the rope between the trees in the joy of tying the noose to the buffalo's horn. The buffalo tries to tie the rope to its horn and runs, unlucky for Nitai, the rope gets stuck in the patch. Nitai fell down from the tree pulled by the buffalo. The buffalo ran deeper into the forest with Nitai. Different parts of the body start to go numb.

Nitai started shouting, covering and calling the names of his companions. Nitai is somehow able to cut the rope with the blade held in the other hand without seeing the way. The buffalo left him and went back to his abode.

Paresh and Nitai are rescued from the jungle by their companions in a bloody state. Paresh regains consciousness after giving water to his eyes and mouth. They finally decided to go back to the pasture. On the orders of Paresh, the baby buffalo was released. The child ran into the forest following its mother's path. Paresh's entire team looked in the direction of the child in confusion. If someone wanted to go to someone's house and take away their children, they would have behaved in the same way. They understand that there is no masculinity in catching a forest buffalo. Paresh's party with the two wounded companions returned to Char without catching any buffaloes.

Momela Bibi and Shahidul Shikder

Bio: Momela Bibi and Shahidul Shikder are husband and wife. They live in Char Montaj of Rangabali Upazila of Bhola District. Momela Bibi sells rice cakes on the side of the road, while her husband Shahidul Shikder supports her. They have worked in Dhaka for many years. They returned to Char Montaj in their last years.

The Duet

Stranger: can you feed the pita aunty? I will not eat steamed pita, Chitai pitha is given. Give it hot. Winter cake is not fun if it doesn't smoke.

Wife: All the pies are hot sir, I just opened them. What to eat with chitai pitha? There is shrimp bharta and mustard batter. I can give sweets if you want. Date molasses sweets made this time.

I was born in a rich family. When I am in the husband's house, the financial position of the father's house is worthless. What was in fate cannot be changed. You must accept what God is doing. What will happen to these regrets? But we have a lot of trouble, the people of the village now.

Husband: Utter lies! Is being poor written on the forehead? It is true that your grandfather had a lot of property, buffalo herd, money. The people of the area respected him. What your father had is his share, inherited from your grandfather. Nothing new has been done.

Wife: Hey, what did you say? My father also had a lot of land and buffaloes. My father used to cultivate paddy; he didn't know how much paddy he had. My grandfather's land is sixty-two kanis. How many people worked in our house, it was always like a festival. Schools and colleges did not exist in those days, although boys went to madrasas, I never went. I did not study, even though education was not popular at that time, I used to hear many stories from my grandfather and learned many things.

Husband: Your grandfather used to end up giving land to people and died in a lawsuit over land at his last age.

Wife: Huda will not speak. My grandfather was rich, although I did not understand the rich-poor issue. My grandfather was rich. There was no shortage of money. The food was good. Grandfather used to give charity.

Husband: what is there to understand the rich and poor? I am saying

Wife: Let me speak! Some people in the area would come to Dada if their houses or lands were destroyed in the river. He used to come and cry and talk about giving some land to his grandfather. I don't know if grandpa is charitable, but he used to say that he would let people cultivate the small piece of land in the north and live in the land next to our house. They used to speak well and respect grandfather.

Husband: Huda talk, and what happened to the profit? At the last age, I saw your grandfather die while litigating a land dispute. The person who has been donating land to people all his life is getting land cases on his forehead.

Wife said yes to you! I got married in Gari's house.

Husband: Where did you find the poor? I am bringing my wife home by spending my own money.

Wife: One evening mother came and talked about my marriage. The son's house is not far away, it takes three or four hours by river. I saw my son-in-law for the first time on the wedding day.

Husband: So, what if I am poor? I am brought you at my expense. I have also paid for food expenses; I think there will be three hundred and four hundred people. Fish from ponds and rivers, along with beef, pulses and curd. All sarees and bangles are bought by me. I didn't let you spend a single penny.

Wife: You stop! A few days after marriage we moved to Narayanganj. My son-in-law was working in a salt factory. The job was to unload sacks of salt from the ship, and sometimes transfer it from the factory to another ship. you say...

Husband: What should I say? The salts that came to the factory were in pieces like stones. After bringing them to the factory, they were broken and made into salt. It was then packed and taken to another ship for sale. The owner also had other jobs, many kinds of business. Rice and pulses, flour, flour was all there. I also used to load and unload them. The salt factory used to work in two shifts. I didn't work in a factory, but emptying sacks of salt would turn my hands and feet white. Sometimes rotting hands and feet, the body was wasted. Once I fell off the floor while excreting the salt and felt a lot of pain. After a week of rest, I went to work and had to return without work due to back pain. After working with pain for some time, he started to leave the salt factory. Then I joined the brick kiln. That too in Narayanganj, not too far from our house, so I stayed in the previous house.

Wife: I used to break bricks together with husband and wife. On the first day, the hand swelled, and the blister appeared on the hand. God knows how hard it was to break one brick. On the first day, I was breaking thirty or thirty-five bricks. When I come home at night, why do I cry, I don't even cook because of the pain in my hand. I decided not to go to work tomorrow. But what to do? Then we have a child, the family expenses are increasing. It is difficult to manage a family alone. If I work a little, running the family will be a little easier. Even if I don't go the next day, when the pain in my hand subsides, I go back to work, breaking brick after brick. After that, we have been doing brick breaking work in Narayanganj for fifteen consecutive years. I have worked in how many storms and rains. At one time the body started to break down, by that time we had three children. Dealing with them, breaking bricks, all together we spent every day with a lot of hardships. I can't do it once. Life has become very difficult due to housing rent, food expenses. Boys and girls are also getting married and starting separate families. We have left Bura-Buri Narayanganj and are now in Char Montage, building a small house here. It's been a few days since I can't find another job, I make pita and sell it on the street of the market. My son-in-law works as a fish cutter at the ghat, sitting in a pitha shop when there is no other work. My new start in business, I make winter pita with rice powder, two to three hundred rupees are sold a day. There is some profit, I don't know the calculation anymore. Last week I used to sell pitha in a street next to the market, there were not many customers as it was a bit inside. Now I am sitting near the fish wharf, people travel through this road. After the procession, some people sit, eat pita and talk. I hear fish trawlers will come here from next week. There will be a few months of fish season, when there are more people, the buying and selling is good. I am starting to sell pita with that hope. I don't have the strength to do any more work, I must continue like this as long as I can. God knows the rest.

The duo: 'What is the use of calculating what was the father's house after marriage, a woman's life is about her husband's house' - there is no regret, no regret. This is my family now.

Bidhan Howlader

Bio: Bidhan Howlader, Father Bimal Howlader. A fisherman by profession, he used to go fishing in the sea with a trawler. He is now attempting to build a new trawler after his old one sank by accident. He has been fishing since he was a child. He is 35 years of age and lives in Char Montaj of Rangabali Upazila of Bhola District.

Turtle

Barakat Majhi has passed the age of ninety, now he does not have the same strength in his body as before. It's been almost twenty years since he went to sea. But the love for the sea could not be cut today. Every afternoon he will not sleep well at night if you do not talk about the sea while having tea at the trawler wharf next to the house. According to him, even though he left the sea, the sea did not leave him.

Barkat Majhi is also highly respected by young sailors. Serves tea with love and listens to the story of the sea with interest. Barkat Majhi is happy with this.

That evening Barkat Majhi started a new story. Grandsons... listen carefully, if you go to the river or catch fish, you will understand the language of the river. Otherwise, Pirbanago gold magic to survive. The old, blessed sailor said.

At that time, Aziz Mahajan launched a new fifty-two feet trawler in the sea and Barkat Majhi was responsible for that trawler. Good fish have been available since the beginning of the season. Majhi Malla Mahajan is all happy. The trawler was thronging the ghat with hilsa worth five and seven lakh Taka from each trip.

A blessed sailor could talk about shoals of fish by looking at the water. The water in some places of the sea is red and in some places the water is blue. In this way, water of different colors such as black, brown, grey, can be seen in the sea. When the sun sets in the water that is red, the fisherman casts a net when he sees the hilsa fish. This water is the ideal place for hilsa fishing. The fishermen leave their nets and go to rest. How everyone gets shivers. The blessed sailor also drifted away in a drowsy state. Hearing the noise of the fishermen, Barakat Majhi sat up. He felt his troller beat to a rhythmic beat. After a while, it slowly tilts to the left. Meanwhile, the darkness of the night is sitting all around. Barkat Majhi thought at first that maybe some big fish got tangled in the net, that’s why it’s happening. But looking at the one-way tilt rules out that possibility. You can see how the web is stretched straight. The nets are burnt. Discovering that the net has been caught in a downward current. This current pulls the net down, causing the boat to tilt as the net is tied to the trawler.

Barakat Majhi ordered the nets to be cut. Barkat Majhi quickly moved the trawler away when the net was broken. Calm water can be seen from a distance. Heard of such downward currents from the Moors before. Today he himself is the witness. Seeing the new place, I cast the net again and blessed the sailor. This time the hilsa is well in the net. Along with the fish comes a turtle. A blessed sailor never catches a turtle, throws it into the sea. But a fisherman requested to allow the turtle to be kept in the trawler.

On the way back, when he casts the net again, he catches something big in the net. Fishermen cannot pull the net. On the contrary, they keep pulling the net. The net is quickly tied to the trawler. This time everyone tries to lift the net. This time the tension of the net increased, and something started pulling the net and running with the trawler.

Barkat Majhi saw a big turtle pulling the net forward. Barakat Majhi had no idea that such a big turtle could be in God's palm. Equal in size to his trawler. To Barkat Majhi it seems to indicate something else. Meanwhile, the turtle's running speed increased. At one point, it seems that his trawler is floating on the water. shouted Barkat Majhi, quickly ordering the trawler to throw the turtle into the sea.

After throwing the turtle into the sea, the trawler stopped running. Freeing himself from the web, the big monster left. After two consecutive incidents in one trip, the blessed sailor no longer dares to cast the net. He returned to the shore with a few fish.

Grandchildren... Daria will show you many things, some of them will be hidden, so whether you will stay or not, I will take you to the river, you will never know when.

The old Barakat Majhi yawned as he told the story. He continued along the path of the house with the hand stick.

Jakir Hossain

Bio: Jakir Hossain, a juice vendor by profession. He lives in Char Montaj of Rangabali Upazila of Bhola District and is 32 years old.

Aila

Oh, such a sad story! Aila became the end of us!!! Talking about the difficult experience of Cyclone Aila, Rafiq of Char Montaj.

There is no account of how many thousands of people have been damaged and how many people have died. When I heard Ayla Hoybo, then I was thinking about those storms that we are constantly fighting. At night there will be a little storm and wind, in the morning there will be silence. But the opposite happened. Whenever I heard about the terrible cyclone on the radio, many people still did not believe it would happen. Still the local administration (members, chakidars) took most of the people living in Char to shelters. Many have not left their homes, cows, goats, and chickens. The true form of the cyclone begins as the night deepens. How the storm started. Today there is sorrow on the foreheads of these unfortunates of Char. When the violence continued, what was happening could not be understood.

Seeing the water near the house, his eyes went up. Since my house is a little far from Char, I was safe for a long time. Trees are breaking down. The current of water was increasing, the storm and wind were also moving without speed. As the night deepens, the depth of the water increases. Amid so much noise of wind and storm, the sound of people's shouts and screams is coming to the ears. The tree of the neighboring house fell on the roof of my house. On one side, the whole house is flooded with water. I sat in one corner of the room with everyone. Meanwhile, Ile is showing her naked form. There is nothing left to understand, everything has turned upside down and has become silent.

I sat in a corner of the room with everyone in the house. It seems before Fajr call. The call to prayer was not heard. Leaving the fear in a corner, I left the house, and everything is scattered outside. Zaman, a friend from next door, was coming towards my house. He said that the condition of their house is not good. I went with my friend towards Char. As I approached, I realized that it was all over. The water has started to recede.

The cyclone damaged the Char mostly, many people were washed away with the current. Many have lost their loved ones; many have lost their entire family. When the flow of water subsided in the morning, body after body was seen. People and animals are all floating together. I went down with two friends and some others to recover the body. I have a little difficulty in walking normally as I am born lame in one leg. Even so, we are bringing bodies one by one from the water in harmony with everyone. Bio-old people, children, women all float together. Some were tying one's waist to another's waist with a rope to save. But even that was not saved.

Amidst so many corpses, a woman was seen with a cloth on her lap, a child on one side and two children and a snake on the other side. When brought up, it is seen that the woman is dead and the baby on the lap and the two children on the other side are alive in the upper part of the house. I took a few snakes and children and sent the children to a medical team after throwing the snakes aside. Later I came to know 2 children of Rangabali, who were found and taken by relatives. And since no relatives of the baby in the woman's lap were found, the baby was placed in a government child family on the initiative of the upazila administration.

On one side dead bodies are being kept in a row. Returning to the row of corpses with the children, I saw a Commander (a local nickname for the area) moving the corpses of various men and women. After a while, it was not left for everyone to understand, he was taking various gold ornaments and money with the women. Everyone was shocked to see that. An extreme level of hatred was working to see the work of this demon. I wanted to see the end of it today if I had the power. Seeing such an inhumane act, that man became a hater of the people of the area. Humanity is caught in the fire of the power of these demons. I don't want to remember the events of that day. Just remembering it makes me feel sick, why does the sky fall on my head.

Words do not say that servant's work is hasty, God's work is slow and healthy. Not even two weeks later, the dishonest man named Commander had a minor accident. In the accident, the hand of that male Picash was broken. Then it seemed that a small accident broke his hand, which means that he got his punishment at least a little. How many dishonest people are living in this area of ours. How many hundreds of unfortunate people like us who fall into Roshanle are not getting their luck back.

Karim Ullah

Bio: Karim Ullah was born in Char Mantaj of Rangabali Upazila of Bhola District. He has a small tea stall of his own and is 65 years old.

Ghostly Spiral

I am Karim Ullah, I live near the banks of Meghna. I support my family with a tea shop. You city people wanted to hear a story from this illiterate person. Would you really like my story?

I was probably around 22 years old. We used to own a lot cows. I would take care of these cows. I would guard them from under the big banyan tree while they would eat grass. I am kind of shy to admit but I used to play flute a lot those days. I would play flute day and night at the field while guarding the cows.

Winter hadn’t arrived yet though it was getting colder each day. One such moonlit night, I was sitting under the banyan tree while my cows were roaming around the field. I notice a buffalo slowly coming towards me from a far. I had never seen such a buffalo. It scared me a little. The black as night buffalo started going in circles around me from a distance. I started having doubts as buffalos usually do not do that. A little bit later the buffalo just vanished. Instead of the buffalo, a huge black sheep started circling me. My grandfather had told me when I was a child that if something like this ever happened, I should tie my shirt on my head like a bandana and make a spiral around with my pee, that way nothing paranormal can harm me. Remembering that, I did exactly what he had told me. The bad spirit kept changing forms one after another. Some time passes by like that. It started getting late in the night. My cows were still roaming around the field without a concern. I was getting scared by the minute inside my head. After a while I saw one my cows come and sit beside my protective spiral. I prayed to the Almighty and I held and twisted the cow’s tail tightly, and the cow started running. I got dragged by the cow as I was still holding onto the cow’s tail. At one point I found myself in my front yard. I fall on the floor and call out for my mother. Later, I was told that people got me of off the floor and bathed me. I suffered from fever for couple of days after the incident. I don’t remember any of that.

So, that was my story. After that I never ventured near that place during the night.

In Banglasdesh, copy right laws are not particularly strict. So several writers plagiarize, steal, and claim these stories as their own because they rarely find publication. There is no notice, remuneration, or credit given to the original storytellers.

The book was also launched during Ekushey Boi Mela, the largest book fair in the country. Ekushey Boi Mela celebrates the International Mother Language Day which originated from Bangladesh and holds a special place in the hearts of Bengalis. The book fair attracts readers from all across the globe. 90% of new books are generally distributed from this fair. Positioning the platform, The Unwritten Stories, at the fair allowed us to reach demographies that would otherwise not be possible.