It was a food supply for the unintelligible. Some dum-dawak singer. God turned the voice of the ruptured silver. He was known now to be sung. His son was demanding pop corn. The daughter wanted to go to the warm washroom, and the Gursev was saying, "or it is just somebody who is taking it."
It was such a hurricane that was sweeping his legs. 'Such a book was never known to anyone,' he said. Dev: "The lack of my partner hurts me a lot. Let him keep you safe. But today I will be with you with tricks and words. "
"I do not stay in the same place as people now." The cry of the rupa was gone. Sergam could not understand why the mother only got annoyed after asking her to go to the washroom and started crying.
What did he consider to be that there is a world within a human being which is only for him. Where no one else walks with him. Also, he was again going through the ancient ruins. At that time his God's voice Was shouting and the rest of the noise was noisy.
Seeing the show, he returned home. It was very sad and silent. Gursewak said, "I had said beforehand that these shows happen in the same way. I did not find you good. It was only worth 200 dollars. Do not go back or sleep quietly. "The eyes were closed due to her husband's back and the voice of the song was echoing in the heart of where the sleeping with the burning flame was burning.
Days passed: Dev lost again. I do not know if he can go back to India. He could not even ask anyone. Sometimes dialed the promoter number. I will say that by using another name I will be his student. But whenever they think of their age, their children, their husbands and their family, they say, if this smoke comes out of the smoke, then everything will be burnt to ashes. Then their hands will get stuck.
He thinks that love is not the only meeting or enjoyment. It is the sacrifice that is sacrificed. People who worship God, yet they worship him. God is my favorite. I sacrificed my life for my family. Being a girl's obedient daughter, I am doing this drama so far.
The same difference between us and whites is that they do not play and live the real life. We perform drama. Think of someone else who thinks and somebody else is blessed. Every third Indian is in such a tragedy.
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Blog by @amritmahal
