Me and my artist life
A person’s life is arranged with flow of strange events. Then if the artist is more spectacular then it is desirable. The water of the river goes towards the ghat. The flowing stream has never been so dear again, and sometimes it has become a favorite every day, every watch, every year, for ages. And on its two sides, it is creating new villages, ganjas, ports and various stories of human life. The life of such a person is like the river Bahta. An artist’s mind, dormant desire is hidden deep in that mind. Which starts to manifest slowly from time to time. On the contrary, they become colorful, like the butterfly’s feathers. From the deepest of hearts the artist understands his mind, and the manifestation of thought is his work of art. So I will tell you briefly about the wonderful events of my artist life. It is forbidden to say widely because three thousand words.
On February 28, I saw the face of the world in my grandfather’s house in Satgari village. Located in the headquarters of Chuadanga. Chuadanga was then subdivision. And it was Pakistan. I am slowly growing up and getting acquainted with many new things. Village, green and green filled grounds. I was amazed at how beautiful the birds were flying in the wings. The mind was filled with happiness. As the race left them, I would run away. Ah! What a joy. I felt like they were playing with me. Goats Child are jumping and dancing. I also danced with them. The goats would go for a raid, and they would run away. The goats are racing back and forth. When I was a little older, I could not get an hour and a half to go for a bath in the pond. The eyes would become red like a flame of fire and the fingers would be soaked in skin. Upon returning home, he was beaten in the back by incense. He was comfortable with the beat. In the morning, there was another day’s work from the village Emmatha. Mamu used to eat Date Trus juice in the morning and filled my stomach. In the huttail, the juice flowed into the stomach. He used to sound. After a while, the sweet smell of the molasses molasses would fill the mind. It seemed as if this fragrance was coming from far away. The bowl would be filled with hot rice when standing in front of the mum. And who sees my joy! I used to cheat and eat. Fertilizers of the fertilizer on the pond of Mamu’s house. What a wonderful garland to tie together. In those palm trees came maina, tia, salik, fingeraraja, kokil. Occasionally the Kingfisher would also come to eat fish in the pond. The northernmost bill, the goldsmith’s bill, and the billiardia bill. There were plenty of fish on these bills. Tangles, Beads, Shells, Bowls, Shoes, Swarups, Titas, Fries, Jamaiputi, Maalas, Dela, Kai, Mrigel, Rui, Katla, Magur, Khayra, Shing (Geol), Veda, Rayna, Chang, O. (Taki) Many other unnamed fish, including moon, sand, sandy fish. Rabindranath Tagore’s ‘our little river’ would dry up the water. And all the big men and women in the village would go down for fishing. Fishes, pallets, towels and hands all filled the net with fish. What was the taste and smell of those fish.
Paddy was cultivated on the bills of these bills. When the wind was blowing over the green paddy fields, it seemed that the waves were rising in the unmarked greenery. The mind can see the scenes that went down in happiness. Huge green field, the heart of the green beam of the bill, far, on the horizon, watching the house-to-house of the village, who does not mind! During the winter, mustard flowers grow in colors like raw turmeric, sometimes with a mixture of golden colors of green and green in color. Which can be felt with the heart. The stain goes deep in the mind. Nature becomes obsessed.
And if you are a little older then you have to fly. Whether it is full of sunshine, the moonlight and the sun, whether it is hot or cold, the impression of everything is different. The name of the Bahari color mixed with blue saucer. A bikini competition with five boys from the village. Once my hoodie went up several steps with a latte that went away and I could not find it. I returned home with a very sad hand in my hand. There were also reasons for upset. This yarn, I had to raise the money to buy a horse. It hurts again too. After the farmers cut the paddy in the field, some paddy fields were left in the field so if there was one acre or semi fertilizer paddy, I would sell it in the shop and buy cottonseed. If so much hard work is made of yarn and knit together at a distance, it is a matter of trouble! Those memories come to mind at a moment’s moment.
Life is in vain if you do not get hit by a knife. There was no money to buy marble. There is not one word that ‘doesn’t taste like yogurt’. Nevertheless, the yogurt flavor had me dissolving. I used to get into the forest and collect the ripe nutfalls. And instead of marble, I used to play with nutmeg. Nata trees have many cuts. There is no excuse to eat a cut when you enter the theater. When I used to play with Nata again, I did not remember the pain of eating that cut. It’s not like forgetting about the game with dung-shoots. The bullets were shot through the branches of the babala tree so that they could not be broken easily. These bullets used to be louder than rifles when I hit the house. If you could catch the opponent, the opponent would have to sting, and if you could not catch, the shot would have been a point. The bullets were so horrible that it would swell up like an abdomen on someone’s forehead. Once in a person’s eyes, his eyes became like life forever. What a joy it was to carry on! Jh jhi a word still ringing in the ears today. Inserting bamboo chairs into the fold of the discarded tire of the bike would result in a larger ring. So I kept pushing with my hands. I used to compete again. Ever since I grew up in the midst of all this free-play dust! Indeed, all these memories sometimes wander in the mood and go back to childhood.
Free movement and complete independence is a wonderful thing. I did not get this freedom anymore. As I get to the big classes, the pressure of studying increases day by day. At one time it seemed like studying away! When I read it again, it seemed that there was a lot of joy in it. So I chose Anandatai. Yet after coming up to BFA (Bachelor of Fine Arts), I could not do MFA (Master of Fine Arts) due to poverty. To me, this is a painful event. Dr. The degree did not fit in my forehead anymore. It is very difficult. Later, when I went to the Faculty of Arts at Dhaka University for an MFA, the authorities informed me that it is no longer possible; Time has passed Once again I returned with one hundred disappointments. I thought what would happen if the forehead was bad. When I have a strong inclination towards education, I have left behind a lot of time. A lot of time wasted Great frustration came. At one time, desperate, random lives continued. Along with that, poverty also beat him. I can’t keep myself in myself anymore. Then I thought very quietly, I must get out of it.
I started reading books again. What I found in front of the go-grass so I started to finish! A lot of the frustration went away. After reading this book I started painting again after about twenty-five / thirty years. I think I have forgotten everything. I folded myself and started researching on custom paintings. As a result, I gradually returned to the mainstream. Again I want to go back to my childhood. As I said before, nature drives me crazy. I was impressed when the moon rose in the deep blue. The waxy blue light of the moon flies and the mind becomes ecstatic. I have heard in that short time that there is an old woman on the moon or spinning wheel. Later when I was growing up, reading the book, I realized that there are many streaks in the moon and there are spots that make the moon spin like an old woman and break the void. I learned how to run a bullet. It does not cost money to make a bouquet. The lemonade was cut off and it was dry and dried with sunshine. There was a leather strap to keep the rubber and the ball rolling. Rubbing with rubber is no less. This time the clay was made by drying it with clay balls. Once on a winter morning, a small tuntuni bird was sitting in front of our house on a litchi tree. I continued to swallow. Tuntuni fell to the ground beneath his lips. I caught the bird early. Didn’t die After a little movement I could not see the flight. I took a little time to give him a little hug. I am very sorry why I killed him! Let me fly a little later. I was looking forward to his departure for a while.
Then there was another phenomenon in my life waiting. Which I was really surprised to see. What I did not see in my life came at that time. No rain. Prior to the war of liberation, two films were shot in Chuadanga. Under the blue sky and kokhagong. Razzaq, Kabri, Rahima Khala, Anwar Hossain, Raju Ahmed and many other artists were fortunate to see very closely. The camera, the writing on the writing slate, the art and technique I saw with the very essence. I didn’t know what the movie was then. After watching these two movie shootings, I learned about the movie. And the one who had the opportunity to watch these changes was our son of Chuadanga, the best movie cameraman of Bangladesh, Baby Islam. Baby Islam has long since left the world. I remember him respectfully.
Then came the War of Liberation. The bloody liberation war began in the 5th. Bangladesh with Pakistan. Pakistanis became known as the oppressed nation at the base of the world. And Bangladesh is the highest honor in the world. On 27 March, Pakistan’s military junta Yahya Khan was blamed for blasphemy by blasphemy and was identified as the father of Nakka, the title of jalad. Killed millions of unarmed Bengalis. The sky and the air and the soil defiled Bengal. After a bloody war of nine months, we got freedom in exchange for the honor of the martyred freedom fighters and two lakh mothers and sisters of thirty lakh Bengalis. In the midst of green land, a flag of bright red light flashed, a map of the self, their own land. Bengali-speaking is a proud nation. The Father of the Nation of this War of Liberation Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib was waking up to the sky and the people of Bengal in exchange for agitation, struggle, jail torture and torture. Responding to Bangabandhu’s call, people jumped into the Liberation War. And pouring fresh blood into his chest. An ocean is an independent homeland acquired in exchange for blood. We are proud today as citizens of this independent country. Many memories of the War of Liberation are crowded around Manpot. The date was announced on April 12, announcing Chuadanga as the first and temporary capital of independent Bangladesh. Just then the bomb was bombed at the EPR camp by the Pakistani Air Force. Then the oath ceremony was removed to the mango garden of Vaidyanath. The swearing-in ceremony of the Cabinet of Independent Bangladesh took place here on April 17. The place was later renamed as Mujibnagar after Bangabandhu. Here is a memorial, a large map of Bangladesh, the area of the sector commander of war, and a variety of wartime sculptures and memorable events. At present it is a police station and belongs to Meherpur district.
The dreadful form of the War of Liberation would be seen at night. Most of the wars were at night. Brutal Pak soldiers would take to the streets to patrol, and the freedom fighters were suddenly attacked at Aartaki. In this operation, the freedom fighters had to finish before the Pak army opened fire. Later, the Pak army came and opened fire on the houses of ordinary people in the area and set fire to their houses. Many such incidents were often observed. In this, the common people were severely damaged. The property would go either way. At night, the sound of bullets did not sleep. And I got scared. I was lying in fear.
Just before the start of the war, the date is no longer remembered, maybe March is six / seven. My mother picked up four lows from her thighs and put them in my basket in a basket. Seven cars for sale at village railway market in Chuadanga Town. I walked about two kilometers down the road to Lou’s head. On coming to the market, I heard noises. I didn’t know what the noise was. All I know is that the police will shoot. And in a little while the human race started to jump. I too drove to Lou’s basket and ran. I heard the sound of bullets. R stands out! After hearing about this incident, my father just kept hitting my mother. Why did you send me to sell Lau? At the time of four lows, the price was Tk. In 3-5 rice prices were sixty paise. The prices of all the other vegetables were twenty-five paisa, forty paisa or fifty paisa Per kg. The price of the paper was very low. It was money. If a person had a thousand bucks in his hand, he would be considered a rich man. I forgot to say one more thing during the war. Our lack of onton was getting day by day. Almost every day we ate once or twice. Some days I have cooked and eaten with rice straw and some kind of mushroom pulse with it. This has happened in the lives of countless people like us. There are many other events of the War of Liberation. The war in May took an awful lot. We left the city house and took shelter in my grandfather’s father’s house in Nagdaha. The months of life here were different. The village was filled with relatives of the Chuadanga people. Apart from my father’s father’s house, my grandmother’s father’s home is also in this village. My grandmother’s brothers were still alive. Their home was also a freeways to us. And we were small. Like an unarmed horse. When desired. In addition to other village boys and girls in the village, the boys from the city of Chuadanga also became friends with all the boys. Playing marble with them, fishing with sticks, wandering the fields, playing football in the high school in the afternoon, and gulatani dying all day long. Imagine there was a girl. He used to play marble with the boys. Whenever there was a night after these intercourse, the fear shook all around. About two miles from this village, the railway line is gone. On the edge of that rail line, there was a frontal battle with the Pak invaders. He was kept in the house when the bullets of the big cell went round, the bones and the bells sounded, he would shudder to the walls of the room. If I was in the closet-urine, I would not get out of fear. I kept pressing and waiting for when it would be morning. Still, I used to go out with an immense courage to see the mortar cell. Standing in the empty courtyard could be seen far and wide. It was seen that the wheels of the fire were going long. And when the wheels of this fire came out, the chest sounded, the chest trembled. It seemed as if some part of the rocket was hit by red glowing fire and was speeding. I get used to seeing the same phenomenon almost every day. In the meantime, one of the worst things happened. On the side where the mortar’s cell and the flashing of the light were seen, the fire was about two or three feet high. The heat and the light of that fire were illuminated to our village. People from all over the village woke up and were terrified. The next day I heard that two villages along the railway line had been wiped out by Pakistani invaders. The Pak army was carrying ammunition towards Rajshahi by rail. Many Pakistani army personnel were killed there. Later the invading forces burned these two villages in retaliation. There are many other events of the War of Liberation.
There is a huge pond called Raghab Pond in this village of Kol Ghe. The pond or dighty has been a witness to history. In this pond, the landlords of Nagadah used to bank with money. If silver or copper were thrown into the pond water, it would sink into a jump-like jump. This was how the zamindar kept its tradition. This is the notice of the zamindars or nawabs. Which causes harm to ordinary people.
Once the war was over, the country became independent. We came back to town. The study started again. I got a different environment.
This time I’ll tell you the story of becoming an artist. I was fiercely a nature lover still. The river was one of my favorite places. The dapper baka of this river would drive me crazy. I would often sit by the river and watch the sun sink. And I used to immerse myself in the red light of nature, listening to the birds talk. I tried to understand what they were saying. I was surprised to see a lot of difference in their posture. When they fly over the river, nothing but wings can be seen. Once upon a time, it was far and wide. Maybe a relative came to visit the bird house. Eat all day and go back to sleep. These were the things I felt with my heart. And I filled my heart with many good things. By filling the stomach with food such as people, animals, birds and plants, I used to fill my heart with food and supply it with food. And this is the way I became an artist.
When I was in fourth grade or fifth grade, this kind of love came out of me, and I used to write it in pencil or pen. Would not have been better The crow had a thong or a goat’s thong. I used to draw whatever I wanted. Once my classmate Zahid laughed when he saw my village painting. I was a little embarrassed. Soon there was an insistence in my mind. Anyway, my village, river, plants and houses must be well drawn. I used to draw pictures on a regular basis in the reading space. I tried to draw flowers, birds, flying birds, birds. When I was in seventh grade, there was a seasonal competition of Bangladesh Children Academy. I found success very well. I realized I was slowly building myself up as an artist. I became very interested in studying art. After passing the SSC I moved to Dhaka to attend the Government Art College of Dhaka. I gave admission test in 5. I passed the written test. Viva got out of the exam. The following year, I was admitted at 12.
Before that, my path was very difficult. Our world has come down short. From the sixth grade this trouble started. This is the situation where education is almost stopped. Eating does not fit well. The clothes were also limited. After an Edge and a school dress, I would spend the year. Thought again for next year. Where can I find school books, salaries, clothes! Then they would get together. Everyone who reads with me reads in private, I couldn’t read. During the SSC exams, my teacher had taught my class for three months, and did not take any money from me. I had an adventure, I was a class fastboy. That is why I got so much benefit from the teachers. I was a young man of eighteen / nineteen years. It didn’t matter much at that time. I took the SSC exam in the morning. Ate rice After coming through the test, no more rice was eaten. No food was in the house. No more eating. The rice we ate in the morning is not ours. Four / five boys from the village were coming to our house to take the test, the center was in Chuadanga Town. So we were taking the test from home. They brought rice and pulses with them. I ate their rice and went to the test. Ate again at night At noon, I ate roasted fries. The family and members of the family also ate once. My elderly parents, siblings, future nephews, were severely lacking in their family of seven. As our education was being damaged in this, there was a lack of day by day Jake sitting around. After the SSC result came out, my father said, go to Dhaka. Even though it is difficult to study. When I was preparing to come to Dhaka, I would come that was not even the money. In our house there were copper leopard bones of the zamindari period. I took it to the market. I got 52 Tk in that sale. I took 35 rupees from it and gave the rest to My Father From Chuadanga to Goaland, the fare on the train was 12 rupees, 3 rupees at launch, 15 rupees from Aricha on the bus to Assad Gate. I had 2 bucks. I got up at my aunt’s house. A few days later, my brother and I stayed at the Salimullah Muslim Hall of Dhaka University. Then I gave the admission test in charukala. I got out of my brother. Then I got admission in Tejgaon College. But I couldn’t make up my mind there. Lalmatia mess between the two brothers. I need income One of my uncles used to work in a bank in Baitul Mukarram. I went to my uncle. An uncle worked at a signboard shop for the Daily tk 5. My job is to write in the cassette player. Writing the old or new cassette player will erase the text after it has been painted. I used to write very small English types like original books. I used to write zero points Brush. There were other things I wrote about painting. In that case we would have gone. The next year, I again took the admission test in charukala and survived. At that time it took money to get admission. This money was given to my. After admission, money is needed to buy equipment, paper, pencils to start classes. There was no money I made a lot of money with a lot of trouble. I started writing sign boards. Let me take classes in fine arts. Come back to the mess and write the sign board. Well it seemed to be income. One year has passed since moving on. In 5, I got a job in the Daily Banglar Bani. Headline writing and illustration Then I worked hard. And the only aspiration for this hard work is to make a painter himself. While reading, I used to struggle to get the class equipment right. In class, my friends used eight / ten pencils. I finished the class with only two pencils. I bought the colors for Poor.
Later, due to scarcity, I could not paint for about 20/20 years. I almost ended myself, thinking I didn’t want this life. I started painting again. Currently drawing a lot of pictures. My classmates painted a few pictures in hand. And the rest of us almost gave up painting. Helal Uddin Sarkar, Maksudul Ahsan, Rafi Haque, Chhotaly, Sujan Da, Prahlad Chandra Karmakar, Kamor Mustari Shapala, Mohammad Iqbal painted. No one else paints. I write pictures as well as write novels. So far I have published two short story books. The books were published by Room No. 1 (year 20), abstract portrait (20 years) by Ankur Publishers, and a novel – Midnight Cry (20 years) by Ankur Publishers. Five more novels and children’s books will be published very soon.
After all, I am a worthless person. I couldn’t be an artist or a writer.