Thursday, 18 August 2011


and the curtains were white. There was a door in the wall just at the other end of the sitting of the room, which opened in the gallery. There was a window also in the same wall. There were white curtains on all the windows and doors. In between the door and the window, the painting of two daisies was hanging. The two white curtains were hanging on each of its side.

Mehmet, sat on the sofa. He opened the television. The newsreader was reading, the main news. “Hun,” he said to himself. “same news same problems, that we listen to daily,” he said. He put his head on the back of the sofa. He needed rest. The newsreader was still reading the news, but Mehmet was no more hearing his voice even. His mind had started traveling into his past. 

Mehmet was the third of five brothers, brought up in a village 20 kilometres north of Mardin, in the eastern turkey. Their father was a farmer. They did have some good cultivatable land of their own. So they were not poor. They were having their own home. Mehmet was in the high school, when he expressed his to go to Istanbul. His father wanted him to stay in the village and to work on the family land, but Mehmet had already taken his decision..

Mehmet had been a hard working student. He won admission in Istanbul university.  He was energetic and hard working                  

At times he visited his family during the vacations. Last time when he visited his village, his mother took him away in the other room and gave her a very interesting advice. She asked Mehmet to remain at distance from the Istanbul girls. Mehmet laughed. “No, Mehmet , try to understand what I am saying, “ she was serious. According to her, the girls of big cities, do hunt simple

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