Hope


In the dunnest smoke of hell i am drowning

Each demons pulling me further in the dark imageless night,

Oh God!!Almighty i am not willing to sacrifice my soul

but these voice in my head is embracing with all its valour.

I think that i might be never able to soak my face in the warmest sun in our world

or to bury my distressed heart in the green canvas of the turmoil of the earth.

A sudden splash of sun awoke me again today

from the haunting nightmares that terrifies me.

I see a white feather twisting and floating near my skin

It took me a while to notice that you send me a sign

to give hope to me in the crushing reality,

that loneliness which fritter me into unrecognizable pieces,

you give me hope through this,and the soft zaphyr 

that flutters my eyelash while they pass,

That even if the world within you fell apart,

if you are crying everynight in your pillow

asking god the question that why you have to fight with such prodigious waves,

that there is always a ray of light awaits for you on behind that destructive

with the wish of a new sunrise.




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Rewind 2017

This year is a full of happiness,new friendships,cherishing the old friends,,the strong bond of family and the journey to a new facade of me.zi am willing to  to share with my lovely readers some of the precious moments of 2017.Make sure you also do tell me some of your unforgettable memories in 2017.

The people who make my days brighter are my ken family,my cousin’s,they are the reason maybe life seems blessed at times.

The time I went to Scotland,India’s Scotland(A place where I thought of making a farm house in the future)


The time your brother gets married..


The people I always want to hold on till infinity.


The friends who radiates the life through laughter’s

In case,i ever forgot to tell you how much you freaking irritates me,you still are the reason life seems less painful,and full of dramatic consequences.


Sister,best friends,and my best adviser,therapy guru,life would be rhetoric tale if I hadn’t you by my side,and your hilarious suggestions.

How could I forgot the persons behind the screens,my readers,the ones who inspires me to the unbelievable extent,you guys helped me to make me who I am,Your works inspires me,every one of you is a unreplaceable star in the galaxy and in my life.

I wish you all a happy New year.

Love,Neha.

Mila’s santa.


 Humming sound of the piano today echos a dreary tone,Mila lifts her eye from the piano,her feet approaching the windows,she peeps her hand through the window to touch the snows that were showering through the city of Northfordshire,the touch of the snowflake reminds her of paa whom absence is becoming more prominent with the upcoming christmas.Christmas is time of reunion,of homecoming,but this year while everybody will be making snow castles out of their memory,Mila is left with her scrambled ices.She firmly trusted that despite of the risig rumors this year, santa will bring daddy with him on the christmas.That’s what Mila’s mom told her,it gets gradually hard for her to spend another year wishing that David would be here,but a life of a soldier meant to be sacrificing your joys for the safety of the others.She can convince herself with logic,although she is unable to lie to her 8 years daughter,Mila.

“1..2.3..Hun,Look at the timer and tell mommy when the timer rings,I will go check on poppy,Do not touch anything without Momy’s permission”

Mila plays with the toppings that momma put aside for the finishings later,She has a keen for cooking,and specially baking.She always prefer dessert over main courses,and there are times she was told she was too sweet in her tastes,but as Mila says,the more sweeter,the more merrier.

Mila’s mother receives a letter the other day from David that the conditions in Afganistan had worsened every day,and he won’t be able to make it this year also.She pressed her eyes with her fingers and tested her head over her knees,she knows that she had to be strong,but immediately she shoots a question to God in those rare moments of immense pain of remembering someone,wish god,Santa’s presents would have no age barrier.

“When is paa going to come?You know,we should visit the church first and then to the cake shop and she continue to elaborate all her plan if paa comes this year.

“Paa is not coming”her reply was more cold than the snowflakes that were outside the door and the christmas than erase glooms today only brought darkness in their fate,Mila was unable to attempt an answer.

   

“A sigh!Tell him we miss him”she let out all this in a rash,as if she was hurrying to finish the sentence.

 Her hands clutched in an attempt to restrict her feelings,she ran back to her room,prayed to the old looking chubby man who is everybody’s special Person,the one who gives us gifts without reason(what can be more lovely than that),and took out the rugged paper under her pillows that she ,with love and hard work,made for paa to give him on Christmas,her wish was only to give him this with a warm hug.

Chilly winds knocking down the window panes all afternoon, in the nights it took a violent aura,covering herself with a blanket,mila,this year didn’t wanted to put socks under her pillow this time,but with mom’s request,she only put a note in the sock…The note says

‘GIVE PAA A LOT OF WARM HUG SO THAT WE NEVER FELT AFAR FROM HIM.MILA.’

Mila’s mom came after 12 to put some gifts in the socks for her,but when she slipped her hand inside the sock,the note inside that,stunned her to the utmost.The words made her sob in silence,she looked at her daughter’s face,such a warm heart ,so much compassion of her moved her.She decided that this year santa will reply.She began to write a note for her sitting at her wooden desk,in the stormy,gelid night,she writes:

Dear,

MY prettiest girl,

It’s your shabby looking old fellow here,The fairies told me that you were missing your paa this christmas,So that I came to you to brighten your day.I got the news from the stars as they blink where you paa is and told me that she misses her mila very much and his earnest wish is that his Mila would engulf in joy and prayers,and surrounded her with only happiness this christmas,so that she could bounce back some to the other side of the globe.Just because he isn’t in your eye view,it doesn’t, mean he is not there,you only have to keep him in your heart,so that the miles between you will faint to see the powers of your love,that can conquer all.

For now,look at the stars and smile so that in every star that reaches paa will be shone with your smile,and through that you will never be apart.

And Bake cake with all your heart and never forgot o put your soul into everything you do.

With love

 Your ever young santa.

The letter melted the strong layers of dullness that were building a home in her heart,she tossed a prayer to santa,thanking him,while mom was the god that were her secret santa,that beaming light that glitters the brightest in christmas and in every facade.

To all the secret Santa’s,for the infinite love that you gave us,thank you for living without credit.

This story is for you.












 



















The rough roads..

Today i am bound to discuss a about a topic which has been in my mind for quite a long time,especially after crossing the age of 16,when most of the people ask me about the stereotypical inquiries about your goal,of what you see yourself in the riddles of time.There are few people i have come across who have their destiny planned and curved out,often i wonder how one can be so sure about the journey they are going to witness along the roadside.We all struggle between our passion which is the manifestation of our deep love for a particular thing,in which we work from our heart and on the other hand  the goal which led to comfort and luxury in your lifetime.To choose the latter is a thing that we all are bound to choose cause comfort lures us,and we are the prisoner of our very own very conscious which threatens us when we cross that limited boundary of our mind and step on the turmoil of the universe which is vast and didactic in its nature.The first way is the path which has storms,hurt,pain and drudgery in the journey,but it will make your soul grow in such a manner that those nimny pimny chaps around you will no longer matter to you.your dream atmosphere will always be lonely,this is universally acknowledged,it fears me also as a human being that the path i wanna choose is on the surface of leaving the familiar faces and that alleys i have known from my infant days,i abhor the dull routine of existence,and to leave that i had to let go of my home,in search of a new home, so whether you are reading this post in your way back to home i hope to enlighten a kindle in the heart of yours of that unforgotten dream you wish to revive.                                                                                                                     Authors note:No,Neha is alive but is quite busy for her brother’s wedding and her extreme laziness,so i apologise to my readers for staying away from my  home,and to you guys.                                                                                                                                                                   With love,Neha.

Deathbed of a language 

Heard about a city which is ashamed of its roots?Then maybe you can releate to this post.I have always felt that as English is growing as the main ingredient for surviving in the middle class narrow minded bengali families,our own native language is taking the last breath.I have only dissapointment for this generation,which thinks that respecting a foreign language will make you a shakespeare or Shelley.I have often heard how parents are influencing their childrens to appreciate the riches of other tongue,instead of the bright chrysanthemums that blooms on the soil of our ‘Bangla’.We should be damm proud that we have came to witness and feel a language which made a man like Rabindranath Tagore,a lady like Mahasweta debi,a poet like sukanta immortal.I have a fetish for English,because i love my own language deliberately.I may love Arthur conan doyle for the written masterpiece of ‘Sherlock Holmes’,but our prodosh mitter is no doubt a gem, which is irreplaceable.Most people refer Bengali as the toughtest language they have ever came across,funny to think that their first syallable was in Bengali.We can talk Bengali,walk Bengali,eat Bengali,but can we talk Bengali without the ‘So’ and ‘but’.We have to understand that there are countries that the elements of English are taken from-France,Greece and Germany.Also there are countries who speak in their native tongue,they don’t speak in English in order to be accepted.Love one language,but don’t decline the roots of your existence.I can only heard the alarm of a language dying,betrayed and left out by its own descendants. Tagore would never acclaim the respect he had in this universe,if he has kicked his own language.

You will read this post,then think of the times you have been ashamed because of talking in your native language,then you will go back to listen to ‘Justin bieber’ and the poems written in English,and then you go back to scroll through the shitty posts scattered in your wall,and that kindle hope  of restoring your language is muted through the time.

You think to have enormous gratitude for your own language,but sadly,you are standing upon the grave of also a culture,fading dimly into the unknown.

My pujo diary 2017

Every year on this particular time of the year every bengali in whatever part of the world bloom with happiness on the eve of Maa Durga’s arrival.Yes,It’s Durga pujo.This year my durga pujo has been filled with so many good times,Choosing one of them to write abput is a task i will happily pass on.I am eager to share the some of the pictures of Durga puja.

Maa

Tomorrow is Dashami/Dashhera,My heart is so heavy and this thing happens every year,After 4 days of innumerable joy,when the moment of goodbye does come,I just want to hold tightly your hands more Maa durga.Whatevet condition whether loneliness,fate,heartbreak you mend all our problems in these 4 days.

We say this every year,

Aasche bochor abar hobe.

Pimples and Teenage years

[picture credit=yup!That’s little me]

I never discussed my insecurities here,or my fears.However optimistic person i may seem,like everyone else,i do have fears and insecurities. I was a very thin,tall girl with rather normal appearence,since my first menstruation,My body started to change and i often find myself hating myself for being a little chubby,but as Bengali mothers say ‘Healthy holei meyeder sundar lage’,I have really amazing friends and family that never made me learn anything but to love myself.But whenever i saw those young,beautiful girls infront of the magazine,looking like the perfect replica of a how a lady should be,i cringed at my reflection,and then as years passed i slowly but incromentally learned that whenever i gaze closely to mirror,and that pimple is the focus,i try to smile,and laugh,belive me or not,whenever i found judging myself,smiling at my reflection however made me look suave.I love eating food,and i don’t know about all bong girls,but within my knowledge area, Bengali girls live for food,with emphasize on the word ‘food’,we are foodily in love with phucka,biriyani,Momo,Illish maach,Chilli chicken,..i should stop writing the menu card here.So as i was saying,I adore food and it is okay to have a little bit of extra fat there,until you have feets to twirl and run,eat but exercise also.Not everyone in this universe is a copy of another human being,and if that happens the world would be nothing but a walking grave.We can try our hearts out to become the reflection of our favourite celebrity but we can’t.Teenage years has this relatable emotion running through veins,we feel too amazing,too vulnerable,too ugly,too gorgeous,nothing in the world can compete with our changing attitudes.Whatever you do,don’t you dare judge yourself with others,if you find yourself criticising,just dance and sing your heart out,until all those doubts and raised brows are out of your window and far away from your life.

One of the main issues always have been that it is the influence of the atmosphere we grew up in affects our life.We have always seen in bollywood this fair maiden,gorgeous hair,almost like a barbie doll,we wished that someday we would attend the unattainable. In my words,it should be a celebration to live,to have your life nutritioned by memories.I won’t ignore the fact that it takes a great deal to accept our body,it’s imperfections.A body which no male fantasies,a body with fat,a body with scars laid on the skin,a body which is far from expectations.we love imaginary too much to adore the real.

It is not the external world that torments us,but it is sometimes unknowingly the people who is around us.I suppose that it is not anybody’s fault,it just that when we fantasies about shahrukh khan as our soulmate or katrina kaif,we do not realise that being someone’s replica is not rare,what rare is the ability to be uniquely non identical.Identical thing does not strike the world,but the frenzied,Passionate people does.

All the people out there silently scrolling this post and reading it,I want to annouce that there is no deficiency in you from what you should defecate from.You have to relinquish your mind to deplore from thinking that you are not enough.

‘Perfect’ can be juxtaposed with ‘Ugly’,because they are only phrases,which also humans created,It is only up to you not to let yourself confine in this phrases,don’t be a muggins to this.we all have insecurity but i trust my smile more than that.

My readers it would be encouraging and inspiring to hear about your thoughts on this.