
OUR BOYS NO LONGER LOLL UNDER OUR PAKUR TREE
Who are in charge of the destiny of our boys? nobody, they make their own destiny. When I get a job, my worries for tomorrows’ dal and rice gone and I manage time to ponder over our boys. At first I’m pained to see them lolling under our pakur tree dawn, noon, afternoon, evening the same boys, the same talks. then one day I buy a house in town and leave my village and my visits to village become irregular— a day in a month, a day in a half year, a day in a year. And