Meetup

Chapter-1

"Miss Ju-le-kha Kha-tu-n"

"Miss what?" The only worthy successor of the Mirza house, the twenty-eight-year-old Mirza Ghulam Aziz, known as Chhota* Mirza at home and Mirza Aziz to the outside world, asked the question a little out loud in surprise. His introverted nature and extreme seriousness making him look a bit older for his age. A bit taller than the required height of a Bengali boy and well-formed by regular practice, Aziz's voice always exudes command and authority,

His surprised and authoritative high-pitched question, however, had no effect on the fearless looking girl standing before him. He narrowed his big eyes and pointed his lips and said in a teasing tone,

"You look healthy, You don't hear much? Miss Ju-le-kha kha-tu-n, remember that."

The girl said in a very firm voice, dragging out the name.

This time, not in surprise, but in anger, Mirza Aziz said in a hoarse voice,

"Who the hell are you? Where did an idiot like you come into my room?"

"Don't falter in English. Speak in your mother tongue if you dare."

friendless Aziz studied at St. Paul's Boarding School, Jalpaiguri, Darjeeling. Then on his father's orders he went to London for education and higher education. Being out of the country for most of his life, the English language is a bit more fluent in his mouth. After completing his studies at the School of Economics in London, he took over his father's business.

Although his father Mirza Ghulam Ali is sixty years old, he is still quite healthy and active. Due to the day and night work of father and son, their family businesses have been at the top of the country in the last few years. Their establishments in the pharmaceuticals, constructions and garments sectors in the country is in the first place.

This year, Mirza Aziz was awarded by the "Federation of Bangladesh Chambers of Commerce and Industries' as an emerging and promising young businessman. Everyone hopes that in the future, Bangladesh is going to get a Mirza Aziz, even if it is not Bill Gates,

Zuckerberg,Tata, Birla or Ambani.

Where even the great Rathi-Maharathi* stopped a little in front of his seriousness, Mirza Aziz was shocked by such rude and indecent words of a little girl. He looked carefully and tried to remember if he had seen her anywhere before. His mind is always busy with profit and loss of business, new marketing policy, investment in a new field of business... he has no time to waste time looking at girls. So there is no time to think about who came or gone from his house.

However, it did not seem that there was anyone in the house with such a barty nature.

He took a good look at the girl standing in front of him. Green dress and red salwar in one color , veiled girl with two braids with strong smelling oil on her head. A big flower made of red silk ribbon is hanging on the front of that braid, red-green glass bangles on both hands, bare feet. Fierce look in the big eyes with thick kajal on the pressed brunette face. Age though he could not quess for the girl's petite and slim build. It could be seventeen, it could be twenty-seven.

"Horrible condition,"

he said plainly, raising his nose without concealing it after surveying the girl head to toe, at the simple ring in her ear and the cauliflower-sized nose pin.

The maids working in this house have specific clothes and live in a separate building behind the house All are very elegant, polite and trained. There is no one with such stubborn nature and no one wears such extravagant clothes He was sure that perhaps a relative of the housekeeper had come to visit and had lost his way to the palace like house and entered this room.

After almost a month, Mirza Aziz returned home from Singapore late last night. Haven't even met his parents yet. As a long-standing habit, he was going to leave the house early to have breakfast with everyone in the morning. A special someone is supposed to be met at the breakfast table today, so there is a little discomfort, anxiety. But in the meantime, this disaster has come dressed like a national flag* and there has been a ridiculous argument. Seeing the girl in her room, he asked,

"Who are you?"

**Choto \= little

**rathi-maharathi \= important people

***national flag of Bangladesh \= 🇧🇩

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