Istifa😶

BUILDING CONTRACTOR MR. Vijay informed me, Balasaheb, that because you are retired and could be of assistance, you should work in my office at the Shantabhoomi Complex. Accept my invitation. Hey, no man is strong. In four years, 40 employees have left their jobs. Owners of the block and tenants are at odds. There has been disruption to the Shantabhoomi complex. I began to serve. I got to know everyone who lived in the apartment. Because I enjoy playing in plays as a hobby, many people knew me. Actors, playwrights, poets, and writers joined forces. I met Antoba Vikhare, a former manager. 

Hey Balasaheb, you will now notice, he remarked, "hey these individuals come with some peculiar complaints." We're trapped while they flee. In the conflict over floors 3 and 4 of tower number 3, he had resigned, and that is where I began my employment. On the fourth story, "Tukde," a beginning poet, resided. The "Kondubai interpreter" resided below them on the third floor. Her mood was intellectual and romantic as well. He cherished objects in pieces. Kondubai is an extract of real Dada Kondkas, according to Antoba Vikhare. His primary Marathi teacher was a native speaker named "Totra." As a result, the woman occasionally breaks up her phrases rather than stuttering. Karma, Karta, and verbs are in their preferred order. They choose for themselves where to place the full stop, the short pause, the short pause, and the rest in a sentence. The listener's life is made unhappy as a result. When we initially met, she referred to me as being impoverished despite my questions. Poor you, you said "May" and waited; eventually, he began to work. I'm referring to the trite adage, "Poor man, you died and got a job." Yes, that's correct, but my name is Vichre, I responded. She then added, "What's wrong, Ish, with drawing a thin horizontal line inside the Vichre? And you unfortunate people are happier. You idiots!" And the next day, I pressed the bell button outside Kondubai's closed door. She asked, "How many do you press," as she opened the door in this manner. "How are you doing? What was happening? What's happening? the lady enquired. Oh! It's afternoon, there is no light, and it's really hot. I was sprawled out on the floor, and "he" had his arms outstretched on the bed. No idea where, when, or how. I go to sleep. I'm not that way. I used to drowse gradually as the lady was grinning and we played, laughed, and did some chala.

Wow! I just said it. Next, some news Any novelties?" I hear it every day, the woman murmured. I exclaimed, "So?" in shock. Come in, the lady said after a forceful swallow. But why has "this" spread gradually. has dropped. That indicates that even if the bell rings, it will be impossible to wake them up; however, if it is too late, it could be dangerous. Immediately stiff When Manene says "tea," it needs to be boiled right away. Don't you think this item is outdated? I heard the sound of water running from the faucet while cleaning the bathroom, Navi says. You are exposed to curry because you are trapped in a tap and were opened with a hand. I yelled, "Woman!" "No lady, say Kondubai," she commanded. Would you please say Kondubai? Speak politely; you are the manager; Kondubai. "Kondubai, what is this tap water?" I yelled. She then commanded, "Sangte, listen. So they forced me to sit on the couch. Look at Bala Saheb on me, not Saheb Bala. He lives in "parts," and there is not a single continuous portion of him. Piece by piece. He is a "insider." He composes poetry on any subject. He writes all of his poems in the bathtub while taking a shower, layering old on new and new on old. modern restroom It was titled "On the Pan." "My pan becomes thick and hot late. Ignite it with the spark of your touch, then let the honeycombs be cooked, by twisting the vomit," the poet was reciting. What type of poetry was it, I asked? I'm Balaji. His delivery is like that, the woman added. Why do you listen to these poems, I asked them. She took a breath. Balajipant, the circumstance is unchanged. A broken bathroom is located directly above mine. His broken pipe falls down my hole. As a result, I can clearly hear the lyrical word waves of the piece as the water runs in my bathtub. BUILDING CONTRACTOR MR. Vijay informed me, Balasaheb, that because you are retired and could be of assistance, you should work in my office at the Shantabhoomi Complex. Accept my invitation. Hey, no man is strong. In four years, 40 employees have left their jobs. Owners of the block and tenants are at odds. There has been disruption to the Shantabhoomi complex. I began to serve. I got to know everyone who lived in the apartment. Because I enjoy playing in plays as a hobby, many people knew me. Actors, playwrights, poets, and writers joined forces. I met Antoba Vikhare, a former manager. 

Hey Balasaheb, you will now notice, he remarked, "hey these individuals come with some peculiar complaints." We're trapped while they flee. In the conflict over floors 3 and 4 of tower number 3, he had resigned, and that is where I began my employment. On the fourth story, "Tukde," a beginning poet, resided. The "Kondubai interpreter" resided below them on the third floor. Her mood was intellectual and romantic as well. He cherished objects in pieces. Kondubai is an extract of real Dada Kondkas, according to Antoba Vikhare. His primary Marathi teacher was a native speaker named "Totra." As a result, the woman occasionally breaks up her phrases rather than stuttering. Karma, Karta, and verbs are in their preferred order. They choose for themselves where to place the full stop, the short pause, the short pause, and the rest in a sentence. The listener's life is made unhappy as a result. When we initially met, she referred to me as being impoverished despite my questions. Poor you, you said "May" and waited; eventually, he began to work. I'm referring to the trite adage, "Poor man, you died and got a job." Yes, that's correct, but my name is Vichre, I responded. She then added, "What's wrong, Ish, with drawing a thin horizontal line inside the Vichre? And you unfortunate people are happier. You idiots!" And the next day, I pressed the bell button outside Kondubai's closed door. She asked, "How many do you press," as she opened the door in this manner. "How are you doing? What was happening? What's happening? the lady enquired. Oh! It's afternoon, there is no light, and it's really hot. I was sprawled out on the floor, and "he" had his arms outstretched on the bed. No idea where, when, or how. I go to sleep. I'm not that way. I used to drowse gradually as the lady was grinning and we played, laughed, and did some chala.

Wow! I just said it. Next, some news Any novelties?" I hear it every day, the woman murmured. I exclaimed, "So?" in shock. Come in, the lady said after a forceful swallow. But why has "this" spread gradually. has dropped. That indicates that even if the bell rings, it will be impossible to wake them up; however, if it is too late, it could be dangerous. Immediately stiff When Manene says "tea," it needs to be boiled right away. Don't you think this item is outdated? I heard the sound of water running from the faucet while cleaning the bathroom, Navi says. You are exposed to curry because you are trapped in a tap and were opened with a hand. I yelled, "Woman!" "No lady, say Kondubai," she commanded. Would you please say Kondubai? Speak politely; you are the manager; Kondubai. "Kondubai, what is this tap water?" I yelled. She then commanded, "Sangte, listen. So they forced me to sit on the couch. Look at Bala Saheb on me, not Saheb Bala. He lives in "parts," and there is not a single continuous portion of him. Piece by piece. He is a "insider." He composes poetry on any subject. He writes all of his poems in the bathtub while taking a shower, layering old on new and new on old. modern restroom It was titled "On the Pan." "My pan becomes thick and hot late. Ignite it with the spark of your touch, then let the honeycombs be cooked, by twisting the vomit," the poet was reciting. What type of poetry was it, I asked? I'm Balaji. His delivery is like that, the woman added. Why do you listen to these poems, I asked them. She took a breath. Balajipant, the circumstance is unchanged. A broken bathroom is located directly above mine. His broken pipe falls down my hole. As a result, I can clearly hear the lyrical word waves of the piece as the water runs in my bathtub. BUILDING CONTRACTOR MR. Vijay informed me, Balasaheb, that because you are retired and could be of assistance, you should work in my office at the Shantabhoomi Complex. Accept my invitation. Hey, no man is strong. In four years, 40 employees have left their jobs. Owners of the block and tenants are at odds. There has been disruption to the Shantabhoomi complex. I began to serve. I got to know everyone who lived in the apartment. Because I enjoy playing in plays as a hobby, many people knew me. Actors, playwrights, poets, and writers joined forces. I met Antoba Vikhare, a former manager. 

Hey Balasaheb, you will now notice, he remarked, "hey these individuals come with some peculiar complaints." We're trapped while they flee. In the conflict over floors 3 and 4 of tower number 3, he had resigned, and that is where I began my employment. On the fourth story, "Tukde," a beginning poet, resided. The "Kondubai interpreter" resided below them on the third floor. Her mood was intellectual and romantic as well. He cherished objects in pieces. Kondubai is an extract of real Dada Kondkas, according to Antoba Vikhare. His primary Marathi teacher was a native speaker named "Totra." As a result, the woman occasionally breaks up her phrases rather than stuttering. Karma, Karta, and verbs are in their preferred order. They choose for themselves where to place the full stop, the short pause, the short pause, and the rest in a sentence. The listener's life is made unhappy as a result. When we initially met, she referred to me as being impoverished despite my questions. Poor you, you said "May" and waited; eventually, he began to work. I'm referring to the trite adage, "Poor man, you died and got a job." Yes, that's correct, but my name is Vichre, I responded. She then added, "What's wrong, Ish, with drawing a thin horizontal line inside the Vichre? And you unfortunate people are happier. You idiots!" And the next day, I pressed the bell button outside Kondubai's closed door. She asked, "How many do you press," as she opened the door in this manner. "How are you doing? What was happening? What's happening? the lady enquired. Oh! It's afternoon, there is no light, and it's really hot. I was sprawled out on the floor, and "he" had his arms outstretched on the bed. No idea where, when, or how. I go to sleep. I'm not that way. I used to drowse gradually as the lady was grinning and we played, laughed, and did some chala.

Wow! I just said it. Next, some news Any novelties?" I hear it every day, the woman murmured. I exclaimed, "So?" in shock. Come in, the lady said after a forceful swallow. But why has "this" spread gradually. has dropped. That indicates that even if the bell rings, it will be impossible to wake them up; however, if it is too late, it could be dangerous. Immediately stiff When Manene says "tea," it needs to be boiled right away. Don't you think this item is outdated? I heard the sound of water running from the faucet while cleaning the bathroom, Navi says. You are exposed to curry because you are trapped in a tap and were opened with a hand. I yelled, "Woman!" "No lady, say Kondubai," she commanded. Would you please say Kondubai? Speak politely; you are the manager; Kondubai. "Kondubai, what is this tap water?" I yelled. She then commanded, "Sangte, listen. So they forced me to sit on the couch. Look at Bala Saheb on me, not Saheb Bala. He lives in "parts," and there is not a single continuous portion of him. Piece by piece. He is a "insider." He composes poetry on any subject. He writes all of his poems in the bathtub while taking a shower, layering old on new and new on old. modern restroom It was titled "On the Pan." "My pan becomes thick and hot late. Ignite it with the spark of your touch, then let the honeycombs be cooked, by twisting the vomit," the poet was reciting. What type of poetry was it, I asked? I'm Balaji. His delivery is like that, the woman added. Why do you listen to these poems, I asked them. She took a breath. Balajipant, the circumstance is unchanged. A broken bathroom is located directly above mine. His broken pipe falls down my hole. As a result, I can clearly hear the lyrical word waves of the piece as the water runs in my bathtub.