Guru Geethaya by Chingiz Aitmatov (Translator – Dadigama V. Rodrigo) Download the Attachment (Pahalin Thiyen Link eka Click karala File. Author, Dadigama V Rodrigu. ISBN, Publisher, SAMEERA PUBLICATIONS. Pages, Size, x x cm. Weight, Our Price, Rs. Home» Fiction, Novels, Sinhala Book, Sinhala Fiction, Sinhala Novels, Sinhala Translation Novels» Guru Geethaya by Chinghiz Aitmatov.
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Hurry, for God’s sake! I gave the matter much thought nvel arriving at this decision. Would you like to see inside? There were many incidents in the book which struck a chord in my heart. For me there was no one in the whole world more learned and wise than Duishen.
Guru Geethaya by Chinghiz Aitmatov | Free Ebook
Gfethaya old couple, Saikal and Kartanbai, were distant relatives of mine on my mother’s side. Who gave you land and water? Oh, how I wanted to run after those stupid men, catch their horses by the bridles and scream into their smug, jeering faces: And on the hill behind the village there are two great poplars.
Riding past on their sleek hot horses, decked out in their red-fox hats and sheepskin coats, they would stare at Duishen carrying the children across. One minute I’d tell myself that he was back safely because he never once failed to return on the day he promised.
Duishen now carried them across, taking two at a time; one piggyback, and the other in his arms. She nodded vaguely, got up to leave the table, but at that very moment someone rode past the window with a clatter of hoofs, and the young lad came back to say that Duishen had gone. Vuru was noisy and jolly, as such gatherings usually are, with everyone talking animatedly and proposing toasts.
Picking up a crutch he rushed to the door, but at that precise moment his dogs began to bark, someone rushed past the windows and then started banging on the door.
And you, son of Tashtanbek, take the brat and teach her or roast her for dinner, whichever you like. Otherwise he’d have been back hours ago. In my heart I begged him not to turn back before he reached our place. And the giants, swaying from side to geethzya, seemed to be murmuring an invitation for us to come into their cool shade.
You can do your own worrying then, djigit, and you can teach the children for the salary you’re getting. My uncle grumbled, reluctant to go. The tassels of the dry feather grass were like a flickering flame as they nogel past. Such was their attitude. He nvoel down on a log that lay in the middle of the yard, and got out pencil and paper.
We got to our feet, hoisted the bags onto our backs, and trotted back to the village. I learned to read and write in the army, and I had a bit of schooling before then too. About Me Dini View my complete profile. She seemed to be lost in memories of her youth, which, as our songs say, cannot be called back even if you call from the tallest mountain.
But there was never a soul in sight. As a child I went looking for some signs of the building, but though I searched and searched I never found anything. Occasionally, he’d ride down our street, a big hoe tied to his saddle, and his horse was like its master — bony and slim of leg.
The German Aesthetic Tradition. The state has money enough, just leave us in peace, we’ve cares enough as it is. I could hear it hurting the snow against the walls outside. It was no simple thing trying to teach children whose fathers and forefathers had all been illiterate. We could hear the wind blowing in through the chinks in the walls. Look at his picture. And now the Soviet Government wants us to see the light, it wants us to learn to read and write.
I was the oldest of his pupils. This was filmed in the scenic village of Mannag in the Himalaya mountain range in Nepal and in the highest altitude on Mount Everest. They appeared on the roads in the daytime, at night prowled close to the village, and their hungry, blood-chilling howls could be heard till sunrise.
Gradually the excitement died down. The wealthy men who spent the winter up in the mountains and only came down to the flourmill occasionally were especially noxious. Kartanbai’s confidence that all was well with Duishen did not put my mind at rest. Never before had I stayed out so late alone. He turned away abruptly, and took a step to the bank. Still, there was no sign of Duishen.
The appearance of a man in uniform in our remote little village, wedged in between the mountains, caused quite a stir. Altynai Sulaimanovna is an academician, known throughout the country. It all seems unbelievable to me now.