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.

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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.

The fading moon..

There is a strange anxiety in my heart,that i can’t explain.I began to learn that i am slowly drifting apart from some people. But somehow i am thankful i have been released from that cage,the unnecessary show off.I don’t know my heart is feeling that i am allowing to let that happen.I heard people judging bonds over time.But can’t the shortest friendships live forever.A friend is not someone who likes to make you feel inferior,someone just to have good times with,someone to joke with.You can’t make up to your heart,a ‘friend’ is someone whom i can talk about my happiness,excitement, the hundred nothings,and an arm to let your grief be free.It always appears to me i have opened myself to the wrong people,who never embraced me.But there are also friends whom i should keep,but ignorant i was,i let them go.Years after,I know childhood friends are forever.Thank you Sneha for being my best friend,I lost contact with her,But i will always love you Mrs. kohli.For Dolon,You have a wild spirit,Thank you for coming into my life.Miss you.

My college friends,Debadrita and Ansuka,after a pretty long time i found someone who doesn’t judge on the basis of my grades.I am not aware of the place i occupy in your hearts nor whether i am sure after 10 years we will be roaming through quest mall on a Thrusday noontime eating belgium chocolates ,talking about everything and nothing.I am not scared,i learned to appreciate what i have now,but also to release my hand to the one who wants to walk away.

This is the one kind of releationships we don’t have to force,which i am thankful of.Friendship is a precious gem,it should not be associated with greed,jealousy,gossip.I have a problem with the word ‘Forever’,when we say ‘I love you forever’,We are lying,cause we,human beings woke up every morning changed,situations,hardships,failure pushes us to change.Distance stabs a cruel knife on friendship,how technologically advanced we grew up to be,Mobile screen cannot be an alternative for warm hugs.Things change,when we bid farewell to the dirty fields,Looming Classroom,Caring teachers,we also leave their our one self which is eternally faded.Maybe i have grown up,but i am not ignorant,it’s just when people grow,sometime they grow out of themselves.

It is very hard to reciprocate the thing which we gonna hold onto till death do us apart.Maybe we forgot each other in the sea of crowds that is rushing towards us,New sun is waiting for us in the shore,we have to go.

I would never going to forgot the memories,singing our heart out in the last bench,sharing tiffin,Horror stories on a gloomy rainy days,Dancing on the teacher’s day,Feast in Saraswati puja(and also flaunting our sarees in ‘Valentines day’).I will always remember i made a hell of a memory with you guys.We can’t put a barrier.

So to the fading moon,Even if you are fading into the dark tunnel Which i cannot put my feet on It,You have gained a place in my heart which can never destory.

To the old,thanks for showering endless affection upon me,and to the new and to the future….

Thank you for letting me a part of your journey.

Time fleets

Yesterday you were sitting in the rooftop anguishing,hoping and sketching future life,your board exam,college,first love,eternal friendship,it seems so magical to deem that life,’The escapade to a for ever visionary land’.And when you were passing through the life,it all feels like those rare moments of joy,you earnestly want to capture that moment in your heart and never let it slip. We made so many plans with friends,lovers,families but few saw the light of the day.Promises, pitfalls,dissapointment are an intrinsic branch of human existence. Some of the best moments are not contained in photographs,but in our heart,which our heart replays whenever we are in our solitude,sleep is drowing us into an abyss,clutching the pillow close to our cheast,we dip into a place called ‘Nostalagia ‘.There are persons who are the neighbours of our heart,there are those we lives close in human distance but far away from our reach,we recall them in night,when every reaping sound of humming insects producing the desired paradise for our senses,our consciousness arises.our human heart has hidden treasures,which we keep in secret silence,whose dreams,charms,hope would be broken if revealed.Maybe our life is rushing,so is our youth,age,time ,we look forward to future and aimlessly prepared our heart to be broken by many unattainable fantasy,akin to the roaring waves we try to run away from our past but somehow our heart snatches us and throw us to the wild,fathomless sea of things we cannot reverse or undone,but still our heart wish we could.

In the end,we have what we have and when we have.

The nature is everywhere

[Picture credit=Pinterest]

Can we not gather lilies from the sunlit zeal of the Almighty?

Keats once said ‘the poetry of earth is never dead’

we should live by this as if

From every passing dead autumn leaves

We should brush our hands through them

And feel the rusticity of that caramel leaves

Slowly slipping in the wintery torpor,

Sitting beside a lamp on a soundless frigid night

In this cold nature,Try to feel what others decipher,

Beauty in even among the most rhetoric dark lights

Promise,if you look,with a full of heart to discover

in the numb snowfalls of a silent whispering atmosphere

You may see,how they intermingle akin to the fingers of the lovers

Each flake side by side,but never together, 

I opened my eyes once again

The repeaing sound of the humming birds

Created an Earthly eden,

I took closer step, the bursting slow golden

glitters coloured my face as i open the windowpanes

I ran through the stairs

To meet my lover,long lost lover

The spring,with its beamy radiance

Standing and gazing with a hearty detail

His presence once again made life indescribably alive,

Summer is approaching the regions of air,

I am awfully in surprise what it gonna bring

Whatever it may paint with its unique colours

I know each had a colour which can make us feel ‘Divine’

As if we have lived through incessant lives

Isn’t it?