A summer falling noon

With the appearance of summer, the universe of Bengal turned out to be unpleasant, blurred and dry. At the point when summer gets nature with its rudramurti, the characteristic type of Bengal starts to grin; The red fire of Palash, Shimul and Kasnachara is stifled. The green magnificence of green nature is lost. With a threatening sensation of harshness and staining, summer evenings started to administer the earth with furious eyes. Truth be told, the extraordinary warmth of the sun in the town early afternoon. Khan raedur, the light of fire in the hot air. Scene of falling green leaves. Charadake quiet, tranquil, loosening up climate.
Brilliant summer gets the main exercise the field of scheme nature of Bengal. In the main scene of the year cycle, irate two-looked at. This mahatapasara showed up with extraordinary bahnijbala. The pitiless Nidagh-Surya tosses his savage, blazing bolt with a hard hand. In the searing warmth, the bosom of the living earth is torn, its parched wild becomes chauchi. At the point when the sun sparkles, when you take a gander at the distance in the late spring evening, you can see the sparkling dance of the sun. In the event that you take a gander at the interminable winding line of the dry chest-torn land, your head shivers, as though inebriated. In the deserts of summer, the existence power of the earth is depleted and the vibrating fire ascends in space. This extraordinary burning incapacitates every one of the wings, the monsters and every one of the creatures. Wherever there is a dim desert. The memory of a desolate summer evening is splendidly scratched in my heart. The time was in the senior. One warm summer evening I was strolling along the field. The bustling morning has disappeared and has vanished in the sweltering early afternoon sun. At that point fire was tumbling from the sky. Plants, creatures and individuals were consuming around there. There was a dash of fire noticeable all around. There were relatively few individuals in the roads and fields. What a charmed inebriating isolation the enchantment of warmth invaded the skyline. A multitude of parched birds was drifting in the mists. 100 watermelons burst in the ground. The sound of shuddering in the leaves of the tree. The hot breeze was blowing dry leaves, straw, residue and sand noticeable all around and diverted them noticeable all around. Fundamentally, the mumble of the dry leaves adds to the quiet of the late spring evening. A particularly steamy inebriation of a desolate summer evening gradually overpowered me. The trilling sound of the sun was coming from the sky. The calls of two or four canines were likewise heard. Somewhere out there I saw a sun-soaked crow vacillating its wings. My legs were done moving. Depleted, I remained under a banyan tree in an abandoned field. I heard the bird continually calling and saying, "A drop of water, a drop of water." Slowly Raed's tone started to change. I felt that isolation was not a separated element. The forlorn early afternoon is a vital type of day and night. A desolate summer evening appeared to me as a flawlessness. As a picture of a solid wonder. Was uncovered. That actually, calm evening breaks the cloak of blankness about my introduction to the world resurrection relationship with the earth. Reminded me. Around then I was feeling that I was sitting in the shadow of a forlorn bot. Concerned neo-flower children and their an Earth-wide temperature boost, i'll tell ya. The number of recollections of past occasions, the number of lines of abnormal creative mind were skimming on the screen of the brain as per the film. An extraordinary acknowledgment was enlightened in that fragmentary snapshot of the universe. I secretly disregarded the uncommon lovely reality of a forlorn evening.
Cc.
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