Roots and Wings
In the heart of a home where love resides,
A family stands strong, like the ocean tides.
Roots run deep beneath the earth’s embrace,
Wings spread wide in life’s vast space.
A mother’s touch, so gentle and warm,
Guides us through life’s fiercest storm.
A father’s strength, steady and sure,
Builds a foundation, solid and pure.
Brothers and sisters, laughter and tears,
Sharing dreams, and conquering fears.
Through joys and sorrows, thick and thin,
The bond of family lies within.
Grandparents’ stories, rich and wise,
Teach us to see through loving eyes.
Traditions passed from old to new,
A tapestry woven, tried and true.
In every smile, in every cheer,
In moments of doubt, in times of fear,
Family’s the anchor, the guiding light,
Through darkest days and brightest nights.
So here’s to the hearts that hold us tight,
Through every challenge, every flight.
For in the arms of family, we find
The roots that ground, the wings that bind.
Muslima Rakhmonova was born on November 2nd, 2007, in Turaqo'rg'on district. She is currently a 11th grade student at the Is'hoqxon Ibrat Creative School. She has a strong passion for reading literary works, drawing, and playing musical instruments. She holds an IELTS certificate at B2 level in English and a Goethe certificate at A2 level in German.
XƏTRINNT OF MY LOVE
Let me bend my love into your love,
Let it not be based on the pleasure of my love,
Let me give up on love, let me not hear,
Don't let it be based on the pleasure of my love!
Take away the ovary of my heart,
Your capacity is abundant, remember me,
Let it snow, rain, shine in the sun,
Don't let it be based on the pleasure of my love!
You are my hearth of hope, my trust,
O poet to my life, I know the feeling,
Everyday the wind blows into my soul,
Don't let it be based on the pleasure of my love!
Let me close your eyes, let me look at you,
From the demand, you become bored, you become embroidered,
My dear, let me be your blessing for life,
Don't let it be based on the pleasure of my love!
ISTURUM, MY OWN COUNTRY, WHERE I WAS BORN
Yad, I have no eyes on Özzgən's soil,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
O I who turn back and forth in the land,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
I don't want grapes, hazelnuts, pomegranate vineyards,
The heart desires the sky plateau, the mountain of shish,
The land to which I speak, my shadow falls,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
Flowers would grow on my lawn,
There the nightingale sang more loudly,
My thighs would kiss my lips,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
Əsən mehi shallow pull telimə,
Its origins are sometimes different,
Waterfalls rose into my slice,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
At the end of the article, we would flee to the pasture,
We had learned to bala-yaga, to ski,
The tulip gave color to the cheeks,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
I was a mother, my mother was there too,
My will was sensitive to my eyes,
My prince would wash my feet,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
I was valuable in my hand, and in myself,
That's why I said "homeland",
Wherever I look, the sign is in my eye,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
Quickly turn away, let the son go to longing,
My heart is in need of attention, compassion,
I'm sorry, what's your name, fame,
I want my own homeland where I was born.
CARRYING THIS SPIRIT WE ARE NOT COLLAPSING A NATION
Envər Pasha of our Turan army,
Look at the power of his love,
His love is across the seas, over the mountains,
This spirituality is only Turkish!
He gave great importance to the nation and the country,
Joined in jihad, escaped from the flames,
“Transformation as a victorious commander,
Or let me be a martyr!” - choose your slogan!
Time colliding in the room,
The letter he wrote to Nacibé Sultan,
Even though the sultan's heart was saddened at that moment,
It has become a source of pride for a lifetime!
“I love you, my praises Raise me with my job!”- he wrote,
“Write the names of the villages in history,
Martyrdom is a mark!” - wrote...
“To protect our country from the enemy,
Mustafa Kamala, possible help,
The day that should be from him,
“One dimension, my sons!”
The one that comes to life before your eyes,
He kissed her gentle fingers and left...
The one that makes hearts happy when you remember it,
He entrusted tomorrow to God...
A mill carrying this spirit has collapsed,
And your truth guides, the path they follow!
It precipitates the oil, but it does not absorb much of it,
As long as there is one mill and two states!
He joined the Turan party,
Now what kind of Pasha has arrived?
The great men of Great Turkestan,
Come on, Victory, our heads are high!
Uzbekistan, Uzbek
XXI century. After ages, times, centuries, we have reached these days. Mir Alisher Navoi, who recognized that world, "we are living in the age of mirror worlds, self-moving iron slaps brought by Farhad and Shirin. If we don't leave the house for a day, we feel as if we are not aware of the news happening in the whole world. Yes, because every day, every hour there is news, research, discoveries in some corner of the Earth. Today's demand is to keep pace with the world.
Indeed, the future of the country is in the hands of the young generation. Of course, there are no young people in our country who can introduce our country to the world. As a proof of my word, let's take Javahir Sindorovov. He is a chess master despite his young age. He grew up with chess from a young age. He is learning the secrets of chess and taking the milestones.
As a clear proof of this, let's remember the great success of the past year 2022. At the international chess competition held in India, five players from Uzbekistan won the highest positions and bravely defended the flag of our country. The President congratulated them on their victory by phone. Javahir Sindorov was among them, of course. We have many such young people. They are all worth being proud of. Another one of our youth, eighteen-year-old Parviz Tuksanov. He scored 8.5 points in the international assessment system of English language proficiency and managed to set a record among the youth of Uzbekistan by scoring 1560 points in the SAT exam. It will make your heart happy to hear such news! For information, the SAT exam is also one of the international exams. He is one of our young people. As long as we have such young people, Uzbekistan will never stop developing.
I envied my compatriots, got the best result in such exams, and intended to make my contribution to the development of our country, even if it is small.
Such achievements are, of course, a clear proof that the head of state pays close attention to the education system. Our President, who took the words "attention to education, attention to the future" as his motto, is making a lot of educational investments and innovations for our youth.
All these efforts are our future for the generation! Not only education, but also other fields are developing in our country. Examples of these are sports, art, and medicine. There is a wonderful saying in our people that "Nothing can make a country famous for sports". Our athletes are as usual
We have no choice but to admit that they are raising the national flag to blue.
In fact, at the root of all this is education, manners, concepts. There is a famous saying of Abdulla Awlani, one of our Jadids who made a significant contribution to the development of our nation. Let me quote below with your permission: "Education for us is a matter of life or death, salvation or destruction, or happiness or disaster." In our country, if you see a person with a smiling face and two hands on his chest, believe me, that person is an Uzbek! You say, the reason is that our grandparents and parents taught us this. By the way, drink green tea!
Aziza Karimjonova Sherzodovna was born in 2008. Now, she is 16 years old and 10th grade at Is'hakhan Ibrat creativity school. She can freely speak in English, Russian, and Korean languages. Her stories were published in many foreign journals.
The Life of a Praying Mantis: Nature's Stealthy Predator
The praying mantis, an intriguing insect named for its prayer-like posture, has a life cycle that showcases the marvels of nature. Here's an in-depth look into its journey from egg to adult.
Egg Stage:
A praying mantis's life begins inside an ootheca, a frothy mass created by the female to safeguard her eggs. The ootheca hardens, providing a secure environment for the developing embryos. Depending on environmental conditions, the eggs hatch within weeks to months.
Nymph Stage:
Upon hatching, mantis nymphs resemble miniature adults but lack wings and reproductive organs. From the start, they are voracious predators, hunting small insects. They go through several molts, shedding their exoskeletons as they grow larger.
Adult Stage:
The final molt marks the transition to adulthood, during which the mantis gains wings and reproductive capability. Adult mantises are solitary and skilled hunters, using their excellent camouflage and swift reflexes to catch prey with their raptorial forelegs.
Reproduction:
The mating process is notable for the potential cannibalistic behavior of the female, who may consume the male after or during copulation, providing her with additional nutrients for egg production.
Ecological Role:
Praying mantises are vital in ecosystems, controlling insect populations and serving as prey for larger animals. They are valued in gardens for their role in natural pest control.
Conservation:
Though not endangered, mantises face threats from habitat loss and pesticide use. Conservation efforts focus on preserving natural habitats and reducing chemical use.
Conclusion:
The life of a praying mantis is a testament to adaptability and survival. From egg to adult, each stage reveals the mantis's role in maintaining ecological balance. Their presence in nature reminds us of the intricate beauty and complexity of the natural world.
Md. Naeem Aziz is a Bangladeshi Author, Writer, Poet, Engineer and Photographer. He is best known for his writings and photography. He was born on 10th December 1998. He is from Dhaka, Bangladesh.
My Birthday Party
Birthday is a memorable day in one's life. This is the day when a person was born. Children around the world celebrate the day in different ways. My birthday is in March. Every year, I celebrate the with my friends. My parents ask my friends to come to our home and have a party. My parents decorate the house nicely. My father orders birthday cake. My mother usually buys me a new dress. In the afternoon my friends come. They bring gifts for me.
The cake is placed on a large table. Candles are placed on the cake. When the programme begins, my friends stand around the table. I blow the candles and cut the cake. My friends sing the birthday song and wish me. On this occasion, my mother 36, prepares delicious dishes. We enjoy the food. We have a lot of fun. My birthday is one of the memorable day for me.
Md. Rizwan Islam (Talha) is a student of grade six in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Echoes of Ravenswood
Part 2: The Descent
The friends landed with a thud, their flashlights flickering as they hit the ground. Groaning, they picked themselves up, realizing they had fallen through a trapdoor into a hidden basement. The air was damp and musty, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the darkness.
"Is everyone okay?" Jake asked, his voice echoing slightly.
"Yeah, I think so," David replied, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Where are we?"
Emily shone her flashlight around, revealing a narrow corridor lined with old, rusted pipes and crumbling brick walls. The atmosphere was even more oppressive down here, the weight of the earth above them adding to their growing sense of dread.
"We need to find a way out of here," Sarah said, her voice trembling.
They began to move cautiously down the corridor, their footsteps echoing eerily. The whispering voices seemed to have followed them, growing louder and more insistent. It was as if the walls themselves were alive, watching and waiting.
As they turned a corner, they came upon a series of doors. Each was marked with strange symbols and covered in a thick layer of dust. The friends exchanged uneasy glances, the sense of foreboding growing stronger.
"Should we open one?" Emily asked hesitantly.
"Do we have a choice?" Jake replied. "We need to find a way out, and this might be our only option."
They chose a door at random, Jake turning the handle slowly. The door creaked open, revealing a small room filled with old, rotting furniture and stacks of yellowed papers. In the center of the room was a large, ornate mirror, its surface tarnished and cracked.
Emily approached the mirror, her curiosity getting the better of her. As she wiped away the grime, she gasped. The reflection showed not just their group, but also shadowy figures standing behind them, their faces twisted in expressions of agony.
"Guys, look at this," she whispered, her voice shaking.
The others gathered around, their faces pale as they saw the ghostly figures in the mirror. Suddenly, one of the figures moved, its hand reaching out towards Emily. She stumbled back, her heart racing.
"We need to get out of here, now," David said, his voice urgent.
They backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. The whispering voices grew louder, now accompanied by faint, ghostly laughter. Panic began to set in as they hurried down the corridor, desperate to find an exit.
After what felt like hours, they came upon a set of stairs leading upwards. Relief washed over them as they climbed the steps, hoping to find a way back to the surface. However, as they reached the top, they found themselves in a large, circular chamber.
The chamber was lined with ancient, decaying bookshelves, and in the center stood a stone altar covered in strange, ritualistic markings. The air was thick with the scent of old, damp paper and something else, something metallic.
"Where are we?" Sarah asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Before anyone could answer, the door behind them slammed shut, and the room was plunged into darkness. The friends huddled together, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Suddenly, the altar began to glow with a faint, otherworldly light. The markings seemed to come alive, writhing and shifting like living things. The ghostly laughter grew louder, echoing through the chamber.
"We need to destroy whatever this is," Jake said, his voice filled with determination.
They approached the altar, their flashlights flickering as if the very air was trying to extinguish them. David picked up a heavy book from one of the shelves, intending to use it to smash the altar. As he lifted it, the room seemed to pulse with energy.
Just as he was about to strike, a figure appeared before them. It was a woman, her face pale and her eyes filled with sorrow. She seemed to be made of mist, her form shifting and shimmering in the faint light.
"Please, help us," she whispered, her voice filled with despair.
The friends froze, unsure of what to do. The woman reached out a hand, and they could see the marks of chains on her wrists. She seemed to be pleading with them, her eyes filled with a desperate need.
"Who are you?" Emily asked, her voice trembling.
"We are the lost souls of the Blackburn Mansion," the woman replied. "We were trapped here by a curse, bound to this place for eternity. Only you can set us free."
"How?" Jake asked, his voice filled with a mix of fear and determination.
"Destroy the altar," the woman said. "It is the source of the curse. Break it, and we will be released."
With a determined nod, David brought the book down on the altar with all his strength. The room seemed to explode with light, the air filled with a deafening roar. The friends were thrown back, their flashlights clattering to the ground.
When the light finally faded and the roar subsided, the friends found themselves lying on the cold stone floor. They groaned and slowly sat up, their heads spinning. The room was now eerily silent, the oppressive atmosphere lifted.
"Is everyone okay?" Jake asked, helping Emily.
Nahyean Taronno is a student of grade eight in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Time
Time ticks on, a constant beat,
Days and nights in a rhythmic sweep.
Moments pass, both fast and slow,
As we watch our lives unfold and grow.
Seconds tick, hours run,
Life moves on, one by one.
In each breath, every rhyme,
We feel the touch of time.
Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
