Old Post Office Part-1

The postmaster has to come to Ulapur village as soon as he starts his work. The village is very small. There is a Nilkuthi nearby, so Mr. Kuthir has collected a lot and set up this new post office.

Our postmaster is a son of Calcutta. The postmaster has come to this Gandagram, as it is when a fish is caught in the water. His apis in a dark alley; In the distance there is a pond and forest on its four banks. All the servants who are in Kuthir Gomsta etc. are hardly free and are not fit to mingle with their gentlemen.

Especially the boy from Calcutta does not know how to mix well. When you go to an unfamiliar place, you are either arrogant or incompetent. Because of this, he does not socialize with the local people. But there is not much work at hand. Sometimes he tries to write a poem or two. In it, he has expressed the idea that one can spend his life happily watching the vibrations of Tarupallab and the clouds of the sky all day long - but Antaryami knows that if a demon from an Arabic novel comes and in one night cuts down all the trees including the branches and makes paved roads and rows of buildings in the sky. If the cloud is blocked from the vision path, then this half-hearted child can get a new life again.The Postmaster's salary is very low. He has to cook and eat himself and a fatherless orphan girl of the village does his chores, gets to eat four by four. The girl's name is Ratan. Age twelve-thirteen. Marriage is not particularly likely.

In the evening, when the smoke rose from the cowshed of the village, the bells called in the bushes, the group of drunken Bauls of the village played the open cymbals and sang loudly in the distance - when sitting alone in the darkness and seeing the trembling of the trees, the poet's heart also felt a flutter of heart, then a dim lamp was lit in the corner of the room. Postmaster used to call “Ratan”. Ratan used to sit at the door and wait for this call, but he would not come home without a single call - he would say, "Ki ga babu, why are you calling."Postmaster. Your Hensel's work will be done now - smoke the tobacco once.

Soon Ratan entered to blow on Kalika with two swollen cheeks. The postmaster took the card from his hand and asked, "Well, Ratan, do you remember your mother?" He talks a lot; Some remember, some don't. The father loved him more than the mother, he remembers the father little. After working hard, father used to come back home in the evening, in which two evenings - one evening is engraved in his mind like a clear picture. After this, Ratan gradually fell down on the ground at the postmaster's feet. He remembered that he had a younger brother - one day on a rainy day in the past, the two of them met at the edge of a pond and played catch by throwing a broken branch of a tree - that was more in his mind than many serious incidents. Sometimes the night would pass with such talk, and the postmaster, out of laziness, no longer wished to cook. In the morning, there would be banjan, and Ratan would hurry up and bake a few loaves of bread - and then both of them would eat the night's food.One day in the evening, sitting on the wooden stool of Apis in the corner of that big Atchala, the postmaster also used to sing about his home - about his little brother, mother and sister, about those for whom his heart ached while sitting alone in the exile. All the things that always came to mind but could never be brought up to the gomastas of Nilkuthi, said to an illiterate little girl, did not seem incongruous at all. Eventually, the girl used to refer to the people in her house as mother, didi, and grandfather as if they were acquaintances. In fact, the girl had depicted their imaginary figure in her tiny heart.One cloudless fortnight in the rainy season, the air was warm and soft, the sun-drenched