Fabzee

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 First up, when a merchant/business decides to inbox you the price it is NOT to rob you in a chipa goli; we honestly do NOT have the time. We ask you to inbox because 1. the market is crawling with copies/replicas and if someone offers you a fake product at just 20tk less, you'll swarm to them and question the original merchant's pricing. 2. It helps us filter out genuine clients versus well, the kind like you. 

 This is an old debate but I'll address this none the less; the LIVES. You hate them, I know. They bore you, I know. You're much, much above that; I know that too. Do you realize it is our work? The lives we do, the posts we post they are a part of our WORK. Do you have any idea how much sales a Facebook Live generates? I’d like to see YOU generating 10,000tk worth of sales.  None of the people conducting the LIVES are professional; everyone is awkward and self conscious; but they have to do it because it is a part of their job. It's completely understandable if is not relevant to you. Facebook has a beautiful unfollow option for you to click and get out of the whole mess without disrespecting anyone. 

If I let this guy go unscathed he'd get on the bus and grope some other woman/girl/child. He would someday Allah maaf koruk revert back to my sister.

So please step up. Always step up. Everytime you step up you limit other women's exposure to molesters, abusers and rapists. Then maybe someday it'll be safe to have a daughter.

"I don't know, the touches did not seem nice."

-Let it go.

And she did.

10 years old.

"The way he brushed against me seemed intentional."

-Let it go.

And she did.

15 years old.

"I was groped."

-Let it go.

And she did.

20 years old.

"I didn't want to do it."

-Let it go.

And she did.

25 years old.

"Ei magi tor rate koto?"

-...

-..

The bell rang. She had a parcel and it was all paid for. It wasn't too heavy and had no names signed. Baffled she took the parcel and opened it. And there it was -her very battered, worn out throw pillow, Bay. She squealed in delight and hugged Bay close. It was almost good as being back home. She was about to call her mother when a little note fell out of the parcel.

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She rang the doorbell and waited paitenly; she knew it will be a while that the door opened. Nanabhai was finallty at the door, fumbling with the keys. He saw her and his face lit up like a Christmas Tree. "Aree amar Bujan chole esheche!" he cried. Once she crossed the threshhold, she was overwhelmed by kisses and cuddles. All the comotion brought Bujan out from her Quran recitals as well. Bujan didn't do cuddles; all she got from her was scoffs that her granddaughter was too busy for her own good. They suddenly realized that she was there straight from work and together started fumbling to get her something to eat. Bujan was surly because if she had informed she could have had her favorite dishes.