I Once Wondered
What is your meaning, life?
I’m a forge,- it answered,
And you’re my steel for rifle.
But I don’t want to kill,
I’ll never be cause,
Don’t temper me, please,
For the sake of wars.
Turn me into Morality,
I’ll not bow to the golden calf.
Make me Humanity
And to all people cut.
Life finally said: Rejoice!
Work on Future, I give you a choice.
Nigar Nurulla Khalilova is a poet, novelist, translator from Azerbaijan, currently in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Member of Azerbaijan Writers Union. Graduated from Azerbaijan Medical university. Holds Ph,D Degree.
The nature of word forms in Uzbek, Russian and Karakalpak languages is determined primarily by the fact that the Russian language is a flective language, the Uzbek and Karakalpak language is an agglutinative language.
Words in Uzbek, Russian and Karakalpak languages are separated into grammatical sections based on certain character traits. Word categories are initially classified into independent words, auxiliary words, modal words, exclamations, and imitation words. From these, the feature of shapeshifting is characteristic only of independent words. Change of form is referred to as speciation in relation to nouns, as tussification in relation to verbs.
Russian words are divided into two parts as head shapes: base and completion. The place of completion in Russian words is extremely large, since the completion indicates which category of the word is and expresses the mutual grammatical relationship of the words. In general, in the Russian language, the endings come to denote rod, number, agreement, tense, person and other grammatical meanings. The completion, separated from the base of the word, does not represent a specific grammatical meaning in itself. The concrete grammatical meaning and function of the completion is determined in the sentence, context. Completion in Russian is an integral part of the word. The word cannot be fully formed without completion.
In Uzbek, the initial form of words does not have the same completion as in Russian. For this reason, the initial form is synonymous with the base of the word. Affixes that add to the base of the word and express grammatical meaning will not be as colorful in Uzbek as in Russian from form and meaning jiht. For example: uyda, qishloqda, maktabda, soat beshda, mart oyida – at home, in the village, at school, at Five O’clock, like in March.
In Russian, the completion will consist of only one morpheme and can simultaneously represent several grammatical meanings. For example: the –a completion of the книга word in the книга сестры compound indicates the jensky rod, the unit, the head agreement, the –ы completion of the сестры word indicates the jensky Rod, The Unit, The Crow agreement.
When dividing a word in Karakalpak into a base and a suffix, their base can be used as a singular word at all times . For example: ten’iz, ten’izge, ten’i zden – to the sea, to the sea, like from the sea.
The made word will consist of a STEM as well as a word-making morpheme. In Uzbek, Russian, and Karakalpak languages, word-making morphemes are also quite different from each other depending on their place in the word.
In Uzbek, the yasama word composition is mostly in the form of” base+word-making affix”. For example: like ish-chi, bog‘-bon, bog‘-dor-Chi-lik. The pre-base consonant of word-making morphemes is not unique to Uzbek, nor to Turkic languages in general. Only a few prefixes are found, such as be -, ba -, no -, ser – borrowed from Tajik. It is with morphemes that an adjective is made. For example: begʻam, badavlat, sermahsul, noma’lum – impeccable, wealthy, prolific, like the unknown.
Russian word-making Affixes are associated with the basis, and the basis cannot be used separately without them. For example: the base -ня in the words принять, занять, отнять – accept, borrow, take away cannot be a single word in itself. In Russian, word-making affixes can be used both before the base and after the base, and between the base. 1. Prefixes are used before the base: пере-вод, со-автор, у-ход – translation, co-author, care. 2. Suffixes are added after the base: like зл-ость, тка-ч, учи-тель – anger, weaver, teacher. 3. Among the compound bases, the interfixes –o -,- e -,- i – are used that attach them: рыболов, водопровод, пешеход – angler, water pipe, pedestrian.
Affixes that make a word in Karakalpak are easily distinguished from the base. Without the base word-word-making affixes, yak can also be used as a word: like aqil-li, aqil-siz, aqil-lasiw – smart, foolish, consult. In Karakalpak, word-making Affixes are added only after the base: a’dep-li-lik, taza-la, ten-im, kesh-ki – decency, cleansing, unum, evening. Karakalpak lacks interfixes and prefixes. Sometimes the biy -, na- morphemes entered from the Persian language are added in front of some base, serving to give them only the meaning of indivisibility: biymezgil, nama’lim, biyjuwap – not in time, unknown, unanswered.
In Uzbek, when different morphemes are added to the base of a word and a new word is made, the base usually does not change. For example: friend-friends, work-worker, month-like monthly. When verbs are toned or a new word is made, the phenomenon of falling, alternating vowel sounds occurs in Uzbek: ong-angla, yosh-yasha, son – sana – to understand, live, date.
In Russian, however, the phenomenon of sound exchange occurs at the base of a word with the addition of a word-making or word-changing morpheme to the composition of the word. For example:
2. Vowel sounds alternate when verbs are stressed or a new word is made: говорить – разговаривать рыть – рой, пыть – пей – talk – talk dig – swarm, pyt – drink.
3. In some cases, with a change in completion, a new sound appears in the core: любить – люблю – любишь, терпить – терплю – терпишь – .
4. When The Shape of some words is changed, the vowel sounds in the base fall: сон – сна, уголок – уголки, день – дни – sleep – sleep, corner – corners, day – days.
In Karakalpak, the base morpheme is considered to be the main lexical meaning of the word. For example: ko‘riw, ko‘rgish, ko‘rgizbe, ko‘rsetpe. In Karakalpak, the basis is always singular and has a lexical meaning. Therefore, it is not difficult to divide the word into a base and a suffix. For example: in the words basshi, basliq, basqariw, basla, the bas word can be used as a basis, singly.
In Karakalpak, the basis does not change when word-making or word-changing morphemes are added to the composition of the word. Only in some cases, that is, when a morpheme is added, the end of which begins with vowel sounds, such as p, k, q, they alternate to b, g, g‘ sounds. For example: aq-agʻim, aq-agʻariw, toʻk – toʻgin, kitap-kitabiy – white-flow, white-flow, spill-spill, book-reader.
It is also worth mentioning that each language relies on the statutes defined in the word composition of the morpheme. In Russian words, first, the pristavka (if there is one), the base, followed by the suffix and the suffix: без – пол – ез – ный –useless. In Uzbek, however, the base is initially followed by the word-making affix, the word-changing affix: like the oʻqi-tuv-chi-lik – teaching. In Karakalpak, however, a word is made by first adding a base, followed by a word-making affix, followed by a form-making affix: kitap-sha-larinʻizdi –your books . This in turn can cause some difficulties in the comparative study of Uzbek and Russian, Russian and Karakalpak languages.
REFERENCES:
1. Azizov O va boshqalar O‘zbek va rus tillarining qiyosiy grammatikasi Toshkent.1965.
2. Azizov O. Safaev A. Jamolxonov. O‘zbek va rus tillarining qiyosiy grammatikasi. Toshkent.1986.
3. Bekbergenov A. Rus haʻm qaraqalpaq tillerininʻ salıstırmalı grammatikası. Noʻkis. 1995.
Usmanova Kademay was born on October 9, 2003 in Nukus, Republic of Karakalpakstan. She successfully graduated from school No. 15 in Nukus. He participated in various events and Science Olympiads at the school and took the corresponding places. He can speak Uzbek, Russian, Karakalpak, Kazakh and Turkish fluently.
She is currently a 1st Stage Student of the Nukus State Pedagogical Institute named after Ajiniyaz.
She also has a place in the international arena! In particular, he is a member of India’s All India Council for technical skill development, Argentina’s Juntos Por Letras, Egypt’s creation forum for Culture, Arts and peace, and India’s Iqra Foundation. Her scientific work has been published in Europe, USA, Belgium, India, Russia, Turkey, Italy, Poland, Germany, Belarus, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom.
Theresa stood frowning thoughtfully at the framed photo of her and Mike at their wedding reception. The pair of them, cutting the huge cake, resembled the miniatures atop the cake itself. Mike, tall and buff in his black tux and Theresa in her lacy dress, all very traditional. Just the way that Mike’s mom insisted it be. Dawn, Theresa’s sister, had laughed at the virginity and innocence that the ivory gown implied. Theresa and Mike had, after all, lived together for a year prior to their nuptials. Theresa’s mind drifted back to those earlier times, as it often did. She could almost feel the expensive champagne tickling her nose.
A sudden pounding at the front door jarred Theresa from her reverie; it had to be her sister. She was the only one who demanded entrance with such vigor. Probably a holdover from their childhood; Dawn, at 33, was two years older than her sister. Theresa pulled open the door.
“Hi Sis,” gushed Dawn, the way that she did, charging into the living room.
“What’s got you so excited?” asked Theresa. She immediately regretted the question when she saw the expression of insane determination on her sister’s face. This could mean only one thing, Theresa knew.
“I’ve got the perfect guy for you, Te,” Dawn said without preamble. “He’s an actuary, Works at the same firm I do. Makes good money, has one little girl, four-years-old, I think…”
But Theresa was already shaking her head no. “I told you, I’m not ready to date yet,” she said.
“Baby, you and Mike split up more than two years ago,” said Dawn insistently. “You’ve got to get out there and meet people. Date, go out, fool around. He’s a grad of CU, like me, but he was three years ahead of me.”
“Easy for you to say,” replied Theresa, though she knew her sister had a point. Although Mike was out of her life for good, forever, the emotional turmoil lingered, like a bad cold.
“His name’s Doug,” Dawn continued. “He’s free Saturday.” But Theresa was again shaking her head no. “C’mon, Sis, he’s cute,” added Dawn.
“But, that’s the afternoon of your party,” said Theresa.
“So, Doug will pick you up at, say, one, and bring you by. And if there’s zero chemistry between the two of you, then you can kick him to the curb and sleep over and Robert will take you home on Sunday,” she said, referencing her own husband. “Come over, unwind, get loaded.”
“What does he know about me…and Mike?” inquired Theresa cautiously.
Detecting a breach in the dam, Dawn pounced. “Only that you were once married, it ended in divorce, and you’re on the scent.”
“Dawn!”
“Kidding.” Dawn smiled her pixieish smile.
“Does….Doug….even know what I look like?” asked the younger sister. This was a fatuous question, as Theresa had always been the prettiest girl in her class.
“Yes, I showed him a photo and Doug knows you’re profoundly homely,” replied Dawn with a straight face. “He’s interested anyway.” Dawn smiled her gamine smile again. “Should I tell Doug okay and give him your number?”
Finally relenting, Theresa smiled and said, “Okay.”
. . . . .
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” said Theresa, fawning over a photo of Jewel, Doug’s daughter.
“Thanks,” he said, with a smile as big as the Rockies, which were just outside the window, in the distance. “She started school just two weeks ago,” he added.
“You mean pre-school?” asked Theresa. “Dawn said she was only four.”
“She just turned five,” said Doug proudly. “Smartest one in her class, too,” he boasted.
“I’ll bet.” Theresa grinned at his enthusiasm. “Where’s her mother?” she asked, then immediately regretted it. Asking questions only invited queries from the other party, and she was not ready to confide in strangers.
“I’m sorry for asking, Doug,” Theresa said contritely.
Doug instantly relaxed. “That’s alright, it’s a situation that Jewel and I confront every day. It’s only natural you’d ask.”
Theresa smiled her thanks at his understanding. “Do you want another beer?” she asked.
“No, thanks. I don’t usually drink more than one when I drive.”
Theresa thought this a judicious philosophy, quite at variance from the policy of her ex-. “Do you want to head on over to Dawn and Robert’s, then? she asked.
Dawn’s Labor Day bash was in full swing. As the first informal get together of the fall, it was the last of the seasonal BBQs in which the neighborhood regularly indulged. Theresa and Mike had been reliable frequenters of the parties, but this was just the second such gathering that Theresa had attended since the divorce. And she wouldn’t be here tonight, unless Dawn had insisted. But, she felt comfortable with Doug — so far.
. . . . .
“Hey Mike,” called out Joey, one of his myriad jock friends, all musclebound steroid freaks, to Theresa’s mind. “Go out for a long one.” Having stripped to the waist to reveal his striking, almost sculpted physique, Mike ran thirty yards across the yard and snatched the football effortlessly from the air. Returning the ball to the passer, Mike paused to take up a Big Boy can of beer and drain it in one draught.
Theresa frowned thoughtfully. She knew that Mike would insist on driving them home and, although they were only a mile distant from their residence, he had been consuming an untoward quantity of alcohol. She also knew better than to bring the subject up. ‘Roid rage wasn’t pretty, as the welts on her torso revealed. Mike was always careful to strike her where it didn’t show, she thought dully. And he always apologized profusely afterwards and guaranteed it would never happen again. Time would come, Theresa thought, when his mood swings and proclivity for violence would kill her — or somebody else.
“Men,” scoffed Cindy, Joey’s wife, sitting at a redwood picnic table next to Theresa. “Just a bunch of kids. We’ve been out of high school for nearly ten years and they still carry on so.” She tipped her bottle of beer and sipped. By her slurred words, Theresa could tell that Cindy was drunk.
“I suppose there’s no harm in it,” said Theresa a little defensively. Mike had been a standout athlete in school and was set for a full-ride scholarship to university when his knee blew out. He had never quite gotten over the disappointment at missing his big chance. Following high school, he had taken a job with his father, operating a backhoe. Profitable work, she thought, but he never seemed to be satisfied with his life. A couple of years ago, Mike had taken up weight-training with Cindy’s husband and several other men, all former athletes.
“No harm in it?” cried Cindy. “That gym candy iis tearing Joey to pieces. The other day, he was pumping iron when our youngest walked into our gym and Joey lost it. He hurled the barbell — 200 pounds — at Sheila. Didn’t come anywhere near hitting her, of course, and he was just trying to scare her, to show his displeasure,” she said slowly, lingering thoughtfully on the final word. “But shit, Te. What if he hadn’t been in control? He could kill someone! Does Mike ever behave like that?” she wanted to know.
“No,” replied Theresa, shaking her head. “Never.”
. . . . .
Theresa and Doug drifted through the large backyard which was Dawn’s venue of choice for giving parties in the warm months.
“Want a drink?” asked Doug.
“I thought you didn’t drink when you drove,” Theresa reminded him.
“That doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy yourself, cut loose a little. Besides, you know these people, I only know Robert and Dawn — and you, now,” he said with a warm smile. “Beer?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m good.”
The air was redolent with the savory aromas of sizzling burgers and brats and roasting BBQ. Theresa licked her lips. She was starved. She would just have to wait, as Robert always made a big production of announcing the readiness of the food. Theresa had to hand it to her brother-in-law: he could be a bit of a wiener at times, but he was one hell of a cook.
“Who’s the dude?” asked Joey — Mike’s old friend from before the divorce — in a hoarse voice.
“I’m Doug Carpenter; who’re you?” came back Doug aggressively, sticking his hand out for the other man to shake.
Taken back by Doug’s sharp tone, Joey gripped Doug’s hand and shook. “I’m Joey. Pleased to meet you,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he drifted away, looking back several times at the man that Mike’s woman had taken up with.
There were several other of Theresa and Mike’s old friends at the BBQ, and they all gave Doug the proprietary once over. Theresa sighed and took it in her stride.
. . . . .
The phone call from Mike had frightened Theresa. She used her key to gain entrance to Mike’s flat. He had insisted that she have it, in case she ever needed anything. In the ten months since the divorce, she had never used it — till now. As she let herself in, she heard a loud thumping against the walls of the adjacent room — Mike’s bedroom. She hurried forward.
There she found her ex-husband, pounding with his huge fists against the walls of the bedroom. Plaster and lath rained down onto the carpeted floor. So preoccupied was he with destroying his home, that Mike took no notice of Theresa. Lifting her arms helplessly, she rushed forward and placed her hands on his massive shoulders.
“Mike, honey, stop it. Stop it, baby, what are you doing?”
Finally noting the presence of another, Mike halted. His hands were scuffed and bloody. “Te?” he said uncertainly. He was breathing heavily.
“Right here, baby,” she said, cossetting him. Suddenly he began to weep. Theresa was aghast. In their nearly ten years together, she had never seen her husband cry. “What can I do for you, baby?” she implored. He continued to sob. “What happened tonight?” she asked.
“I picked this chick up at Rando’s,” he said, referencing a bar frequented by those in the construction trades. Theresa stiffened a little. Hearing her ex- talk about picking up another woman was still jarring to her, even though they had not shared a bed in nearly a year. But she quickly put her own distress aside to help the man that she still cared about.
“What happened?” she asked woodenly.
“We held an arm wrestling contest, to see who would break this bitch, and I won,” he said with a discordant aura of pride. He looked at Theresa expectantly.
“I knew you would,” she said automatically, the way she knew he expected her to.
“So we grab a couple ‘a six packs and come over here,” he went on, “and I…I tried to fuck her, but I couldn’t!” He blubbered anew. Theresa saw with alarm the heavy acne scars over his bare shoulders.
Rampant acne and sexual impotence were symptoms of steroid use that were very familiar to Theresa, although Mike had had little problem, when he cut back some. She observed his gigantic muscles and knew that he had probably been blending again, or taking steroids with other, equally perilous drugs. She stared at him and realized, not for the first time, that Mike’s use had gotten out of control. It was his ‘roid rage and the fear she lived with which had spelled the end to their marriage and now it was taking him off a very steep cliff. She had to talk him down.
“It was probably all her fault,” Theresa told him. He gazed at her with glassy eyes. What had he been ingesting? she wondered wildly.
“Yeah?” he asked hopefully.
“She just didn’t have it, is all, baby,” she said, compounding one lie with another. God, she thought, he could hurt himself. Suddenly Mike was too quiet. She peered at him.
“Let’s do it, Te,” he said drunkenly, pulling down his shorts to reveal his flaccid manhood. She could smell the stale beer on his breath. The cannabis rankled her nose.
Theresa winced. This wasn’t what she’d bargained on. “Let’s clean up this room first, Mike,” she coaxed, reaching to move a chunk of plaster from the mattress.
‘No!” he roared, pushing her back on the mattress and pinning her arms.
“Mike,” she yelped, “I….”
“Take it like a woman, or I’ll take it like a man!” he shouted, quoting a line from one of his favorite porn flicks. Swiftly disrobing her, he lunged forward.
Theresa just lay there, bowing to the inevitable, when Mike pulled himself off her and said hoarsely, “I can’t do it again! Oh, God, Oh…” and like a bolt he ran from the room. Desperately, Theresa pulled up her jeans and ran to the bedroom door, only to recoil at the deafening sound of a gunshot.
. . . . .
Throughout the long afternoon and past the dazzling sunset, Theresa and her date talked of myriad things, but Doug never once made an inquiry into the whereabouts of Theresa’s missing husband or how their marriage ended. She had given him the perfect opportunity with her query as to where Jewel’s mother was. Perhaps he was just being more circumspect that Theresa. At length, she had to ask him.
“Doug,” she slurred, a little tipsy from all the beer, “can I ask you an extremely personal question.”
“Yes,” he replied immediately, as if expecting the query. As if the whole day had been a preamble to her question.
“How did your wife die?”
“Paula died of an accidental overdose,” he told her. She felt the icy chill of contrition plummet the length of her spine.
“Oh, forgive me, I…”
“Like I said, Theresa, it’s only natural you’d wonder.”
“I…my..Mike…”
“I know,” he said. “Dawn and Robert explained how you were still very sensitive about his passing.”
“They did?” she asked, wondering if she had been set up.
“I told them that I’d be super careful at how we discussed our ex-spouses. You see, it’s rather unfair because they told me all about you and you know very little about me. You might say that I possessed inside information that you didn’t.” Then unexpectedly, he said, “I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay.”
Theresa was utterly silent for a long moment, and then looked up into his face. “Yes, yes, I think I’d like that.” After a moment, feeling more relaxed now, she added mockingly, “So Dawn and Robert told you all about me, did they?”
“There’s one thing they did leave out,” he admitted.
She looked up. “And what’s that?” she asked winsomely.
“They neglected to tell me,” he replied with a straight face, “how profoundly homely you are.”
Janina Aza Karpinska is an award-winning Poet from the south coast of England. She achieved an M.A. in Creative Writing & Personal Development (with Merit), at Sussex University. Her work has appeared in Bath House Journal; Isacoustic; Three Drops Poetry; Willawaw Journal;Ekphrastic Reviewamong others. She makes writing a daily practice, drawing on many influences and employing a variety of styles, particularly interested in the self-imposed constraints employed by experimental writing group OULIPO.
Abdul Raheem, who used to be an autorickshaw driver in Kerala, reached Saudi in the first decade of the century. He was hired by a family in Riyadh to take care of a differently-abled teenager along with driving duties. The boy used to breathe and eat using the help of a device attached to his body.
One day, while driving with the 15-year-old, the boy assaulted Raheem for stopping at a traffic signal. While trying to calm the teenager down and protect himself, Abdul Raheem ended up pushing the medical device on the boy's shoulder unintentionally. As it fell inside the car, the boy became unconscious and passed away, Onmanorama said in a report.
In 2018, Raheem was sentenced to death as the family refused to grant amnesty. The Kerala man's appeals were rejected and the Supreme Court upheld the verdict. However, in 2023, Raheem received a ray of hope as the family reconsidered and decided to accept diya (blood money) instead. They demanded 15 million Saudi riyals, approximately Rs 33.24 crore, which was to be paid within six months from the deal's signing on October 16, 2023.
With the deadline fast approaching and Abdul Raheem's fate on the line, people across the stratas of life in Kerala joined hands to crowdsource the money. Until last week, the crowdfunding effort could only manage to find Rs 5 crore. However, as the deadline loomed, an aggressive campaign was launched via social media and the volunteers managed to find the entire amount in just four days' time,
Why I mentioned the real story of Kerala ?
It is a movie that trying to halt the prosperity and love between religions and cast
The Kerala Story is a 2023 Indian Hindi-language drama film directed by Sudipto Sen and produced by Vipul Amrutlal Shah.[1] It stars Adah Sharma, Yogita Bihani, Sonia Balani, and Siddhi Idnani. The plot follows a group of women from Kerala who are coerced into converting to Islam and joining the Islamic State .[5][6]Marketed as a true story, the film is premised on the Hindutva conspiracy theory of "love jihad",[7] and falsely claims that thousands of Hindu women from Kerala have been converted to Islam and recruited in the Islamic State.[8][9]
So Kerala didn’t have story like this, so this is not the real.
Today we seen how the Keralites treat every one
A tiny oversight cost him his life.
18 years spent incarcerated
No aspirations, no desires
Seven days remain before death.
The tears were shed like spring.
The mother, in despair,
thought of her cherished son.
34 crores for one life.
No money, no forgiveness
The remnants of humanity
The insight of society with an aspiring mind
The civilization that was portrayed as
radical and narrow-minded shown true humanism.
Saved him with four finger days.
Tiny branches that are connected
by various boundaries
The genuine world's lifesaver
No hue, no faith
Neither wealthy nor impoverished Combined,
providing the shed
The Humanity Day
The day of God's pardon
Dreams as actuality
The modern era's angles
With the courteous customs
and principles proud of every second.
It feels like we were born with
human emotions and died as human beings.
The real Kerala story
Not just one, more than the blood money
Written by Sinanbinumer
Five Untitled Monostichs
bowl of raisin brain taco filling in my socks
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raspberry clown known maritime repellant
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battle cake captain adenoid subculture
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millerbot brownie rice chickpea rice
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listen bug too-mato paste w/ bears
—
bio/grafJ. D. Nelson’s poems have appeared in many publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). Nelson’s first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.
The work “Stepmother” is about the kindness and love of a believer and caressing the heads of orphans, showing them mercy and kindness.
The ideas of the work are manifested in the image of Fatima, a Muslim woman. At a time when people are not able to give good education to their children, they are not able to say sweet things, Fatima’s love for Khayria’s two sisters, pampering her with sweet words, what does she do to her child the fear of hurting an orphan’s soul will shake the heart of any person. The main ideas of the work are about humanity, how to treat orphans.
He can be an example to people who do not know how to treat their children well, who are not afraid to hurt the heart of an orphan. Our mothers and sisters should read this work to know God, to understand oneself, to understand what a Muslim should be, what actions are obligatory in Islam. Our fathers and brothers should study in order to learn to fear someone’s rights, humanity, and refrain from sinful things. In my opinion, this work is not suitable only for young people. The work is intended for everyone to read.
“Since handing over the righteous one to an orphan, after every prayer, hoping for the grace of God, who is able to do everything, “Oh, Lord, grant Samiham to a pure orphan, grant my daughter a happy and prosperous marriage, just as you have answered my prayers with justice until today, grant me this marriage. He did not forget to pray to Habibi Akram, the Sultan of orphans, strangers, and orphans. She wants to go out and live on her own, not to live alone, but to show love to people who grew up with a broken heart and hard to love, together with her righteous daughters, and wants to reduce those defects even a little. because he asks Allah Almighty for this in every prayer.
It is true that this work tells about the fate of orphans whose mothers died for certain reasons and were left in the hands of their stepmothers. But unfortunately, today there are people who give their loved ones to orphanages and sell their children for money. Looking at them, the characters in this work seem to us to be a little bit good. That is why I think that it is necessary to increase the publication of this work, and to strengthen the promotion of reading the work.
As soon as I started reading the work, my heart cried without it. After reading the book, I decided to change. I have no doubt that I will leave this world unscathed if my life is like that of Fatima.
Hamrokulova Zilola Sherali’s daughter was born on June 26, 2006 in the village of Kyzilcha, Nurota District, Navoi Region of the Republic of Usbekistan.Nowadays,she is studying “Foreign Languages” at the academic lyceum of the Navoi State University of Mining and Technology. In her spare time, she writes poems. She has published her creative works in world-famous magazines of several foreign countries.
