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When Mastura arrived at her office, it was noon. She hurried to her
room and locked her room. A clock on the wall rang to signal that she
was late. The room, which smelled of paint, was untidy, with colors
spilled on the floor, unfinished and unfinished paintings, and on the table
lay drawings sent to a pile of choices. Mastura reluctantly approached
the desk and sank into a chair. Soon he got up and stared out the window
at the silent rain. Two pairs of birds hit the window sill as if to protect
themselves from freezing. It took a long time ...
"Why?" He said to himself. Mastura could not understand that the
house on the side of the road attracted him, and every time he stood in
front of it for a while. From the window of the house, a boy of at least
eight years old was listening to the chirping of the birds that roamed the
area, his sad eyes fixed on the road as if waiting for someone. Mastura
once stared long in front of the house. It was only when someone tapped
him lightly on the shoulder that he regained consciousness. It was as if
he had been caught doing sin.
"What are you doing here, girl," said the stranger.
Mastura blushed with embarrassment. She asked his companion next
to the bazaar a question:
-Who lives? Mastura said, barely embarrassed.
The woman muttered as if waiting for the question.
-Rustamjon was left alone with his wife and two children, whose wife
died a year ago. It was difficult for the children to paint, waiting for
Mansurjon to wait for his mother every day. Are you his mentor? The
child draws a beautiful picture, and the woman suddenly hurries away,
as if remembering something.
Mastura has since lost her composure.
Fate showed her his unfaithfulness twice. She was crushed, cried and
cried. She had to get used to it. Desiring to get rid of the pain, he rubbed
himself with painting. For two years, she has been busy holding small
contests and identifying young talented kids. In the last moments, this
became his plaything.
She reached for more disappointing sketches to get rid of the fond
memories. She reviewed many photos. Suddenly, she sprang to his
feet. Tears welled up in her eyes as her heart fluttered. At the bottom of
the picture of the house in which she called herself was a note in her
hand that read, "We're waiting for you ." She gasped.
Close your eyes, let your heart be your eyes
(Jaloliddin Rumi).
Previously, she saw the whole being in its own color and
brilliance. Later, she began to feel, fand see the world with her heart. Sh
e loved life more than ever. He did not complain about fate. She learned
to greet everyone with a laugh. The more she enjoyed the gift of life, the
more the doors of happiness and happiness opened to him. As a result,
she did a lot of good things. She helped people not to wait. On the
contrary, she was always ready to lend a helping hand. Everyone began
to recognize her by the name of Dildora.
Dildora was sitting in her room to the sounds of music. There was a
knock on the door.
"Who is he?" Replied the girl in a soft voice.
-It’s me sister. May I come in?
-May.
"Why are you sitting? Aren't you dressed?"
"I'm not going," she said.
-For you. While there’s an event, you’re here ... Sister, it’s time to
show people.
She doesn't really like such events. I have to go today because I agreed
yesterday. The girl wore a scarf to avoid attracting people's
attention. Dildora went with her sister. When they entered the hall,
people were crowded. The girl chose to sit among the people. Suddenly
a conversation about herself was heard:
- Today, the same name comes to the epic - Dildora Karimova.
-Really ?! Did anyone among us see her?
- It is said that she has never been seen before.
"Even if he passed us, we wouldn't recognize him," laughed a woman.
- That's why there are so many reporters today.
"Hmm," said a young man.
Dildora asked from her Sister:
- Is there too many people ?!
-Yes, sister.
The rear seats all began to hear the words: "Ellen, Karimova support
of the poor, good, and lend a sponsor, the mother of the orphan
children ..." the name of his warm words, he was, she laughed quietly.
When a woman came to the pulpit, the hall calmed down:
"Dear friends," said the middle-aged woman, "let's invite Dildora
Karimova to our network. Please!"
Everyone stared at the door. The girl slowly got up, walked
unaccompanied among the people, with the help of her cane, to the
pulpit.
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