Mughal News is a criminal

Added: 29.03.2022 00:00:00

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I try to open my eyes in my sleep, but it won’t open. I’m going somewhere in someone’s lap, but who? Looks like I’m flying. My nose smells like delicious pastries. At that moment I am trying to fold my hands, there is no pot. I opened my eyes to say, “It’s not my fault, I was holding the burito pot.”

My sister is looking at me “Come on, boy, you go make the cake.” Tell me the worlds will be mine. He doesn’t say! … It’s not my brother or sister’s turn. Whenever I step forward, “At this age, my son, is it your business to make pies with the face of Ramadan fasting?” The truth of the matter is not age, the punishment I received. My grandmother does not speak. Like I’m not aware of it? What is the punishment for making a mistake once?

“Boy, I’ll buy yogurt from the grocery store.” The world will be mine. My Hasbihalim will start here with yoghurt in my copper jug ​​which was given to me by grocery uncle Mehmet Ali. Yogurt cream is a little shaky while walking, with all its charms Like “Eat me!” He will call. When I thought it would be okay to eat a little from the end, I also saw that I had eaten half of the cream in my jug. You know, when I shake my jug, a little bit of yogurt doesn’t drip so it doesn’t make it clear that I’m eating. At least “Baby, you stirred so much when you went to fetch the yoghurt. Look, it’s spilled.” We were fleeing with his warning.

As they say, a locust in one jump, gives two jumps and takes the third. One day, as I was about to move on yogurt because of my love for cream, a voice behind me said, “Now you’re caught, naughty! It is understandable why he took her home in such a hurry. ” Since I was caught red-handed, I can’t lift my head to look at another person’s face, but the voice sounds familiar. The owner of the voice took my hand, led me home and said to the house: “Neighbor, it’s clear what happened to your yogurt. It’s not the grocer’s fault. The cream thief has arrived. I’ve got him painted.” He called.

The culprit is fine, but where did the thief come from? I was quite grounded. I will touch masculinity when I cry. My cheeks started burning. Whenever I get caught red, my cheeks start to burn and I turn red. If they are too much on me, I’ll pass out. Since they know about my plight, my punishment is cut short. This time I really felt guilty.

My mother “You go to your room, we’ll talk when your dad comes in the evening.” Said I could understand the frustration in his voice. I looked behind me from the corner of my eye as I shook my shoulder and walked into my room. This neighbor Eiffar was a teacher. I loved the IFA teacher. The embarrassment I felt at that moment was beyond measure. I deserve no punishment.

It didn’t happen the way I thought it would. I won’t be able to buy anything from the grocery store until Ramadan comes, and I’ll dry the dishes at home and polish the shoes for a week. I was getting annoyed when my brother and sister were standing in front of me smiling. My sister is exempt from drying dishes and my brother is exempt from polishing shoes! Not being able to go to the grocery store in particular hurt me deeply. I was counting the tips I would get from the services I would do and I was devastated by the loss I suffered. The aspirations that always plagued me were endless. The urge to eat chocolate and soda turned my head.
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I had already given up guilt. When I think of the Ifar teacher, my chest tightens and I can’t breathe. I was looking for a hole to escape when I saw and heard a noise while playing on the road. However, as much as he loved me, every time he saw me, he shook my head, “This handsome man will be my student next year.” He will tell me how happy I am to be his student. All my dreams were shattered.

Three weeks have passed since my sentence, Ramadan has come. With Ramadan, home life changes completely. The annoyance ends, the fine is lifted. I am waiting for the day when my sentence will end. My eyes will always come out of my grandmother’s mouth. But if he orders me a job, everything will be fine.

Look, the pastry is made, and my brother is being called again. As I bowed my head and walked to my room, what my brother said gave me hope. “Grandma, we made an appointment to play with friends in the afternoon. Couldn’t you take Kamuran?” As soon as I said this my brother looked at me and smiled. Inside me “What the hell did you see? You should have told me to take Keram today! You see, I can’t show my mother where you hide your cigarettes?” I say. My grandmother says it won’t happen to my brother. “Kamuran will eat his fast food today with your Shengul aunts. They will gather there with their friends.” I am glad that the day was born for me.

My mother, “Camille, forget the match, take the pastry to the right stove! “There is no way to say, I tell myself. I can’t miss the most entertaining show of Ramadan. While waiting for the pastry I can’t wait to tell you what the prizes will be. In this way, I can prove to my family that I am intelligent. I go to my mother, sighing pleadingly “Mom, if I had pastry today.” I say. My brother is happy. “Mom, then let me take Kerem with me.” Said my grandfather, “Look, don’t leave the baby alone in the oven to play.” He warns. My brother “All right.” Said we are going to the bakery with pastry holder in hand. I can’t stay in my place in my happiness. I also missed Uncle Memi. That means the festival will start soon.

If I were to tell a friend right now, I guess They thought I was something weird. Why do you ask? Imagine for a second you were transposed into the karmic driven world of Earl.

When my brother and I entered the bakery, we found it secluded. The bakery overflowed half an hour before Iftar. Uncle Memis took out the pita bread and went upstairs to get the pastries made for the pastry. On the other hand, his apprentice Osman was putting his fingernail cut cake on the counter as per the previous instructions. Everyone’s order will be different. Less sesame, sesame eggs, sesame … My brother put me on a stool behind the door and gave me a pot of pastry. After giving Osman the necessary warnings to keep an eye on me and monitor the order of pastries, he agreed and went there with his friends.

While reprimanding Osman, Uncle Memis began to blow the flour boat with his usual appropriate sound. Osman jumped behind his boss. He continued to unload the remaining flour boats. Uncle Memis wiped his sweat and washed his hands. Then he looked around to see who was inside. Glad to see me “Oh, my main customer has come too. Where have you been, Kavakolu, for so long? We’ve been on the road. Recently, I asked your brother, you fell to the ground. What did you do again, naughty?” Says I was just smiling. Now was not the time to talk. When Uncle Mimi was in good spirits, he needed to be heard. He didn’t tell the story or tell the man, especially the nicknames he gave everyone. There was a way to tell everyone that you can’t get enough of hearing it.

Our stage is ready, Uncle Memis is in the lead role. When they start arguing with customers, come and enjoy. Those who ordered the cake with nails started coming to get their cake. Uncle Mimi is trying to do makeup for her customers on the one hand, she is trying to order on the other. He was controlling Osman who delivered him. Uncle Memis’s pearls begin to spread as the confusion begins during the pastry. The people in the line burst out laughing in the middle of the gentle curse. Occasionally, Uncle Memis would shake the shovel in his hand at Osman, a customer, trying to calm down those who had intervened. I fell asleep with the heat of the stove and the hunger of Rosa. Where was my brother? The old woman in my lap is starting to get heavier. Not wanting to close my eyes, trying to hear the quarrel, but for how long?

I try to open my eyes in my sleep, but it won’t open. I’m going somewhere in someone’s lap, but who? Looks like I’m flying. My nose smells like delicious pastries. At that moment I am trying to fold my hands, there is no pot. “It’s not my fault, I held the burito pot tight.” I say open your eyes. I was in my father’s lap. We enter the house She picked me up from her lap and handed the pastry to my mom. “Well done my lion, he never put pastry on his lap. Should his brother be asked where he is?” Then my brother’s head bowed and the ready position showed that my punishment ended here.

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