Come what may
I was shocked that once I woke up, I remembered what my dream was about. Usually my dreams fade away the moment I'm awake. I can only remember, and vaguely at best, what I saw. And usually I dream of familiar things. I dream of school. I dream of sitting in class. I dream of talking on the phone with my friends. And when I wake up, I feel like I've walked away from this life and stepped back into my old, even for the most fleeting of moments.
When I wake up, I half expect to find myself back in my old room. I expect to see the skeleton of yet another apartment block next door. Instead, what I see are cherry blossoms and rows of cars parked outside.
It is a sight that I find inexplicably depressing.
Back to last night's dream. I dreamt of you. I know. I think I surprised even myself. You I never dream of. Sure, when I close my eyes I can hear your voice. I can see you smiling at me as you help me plough through those math problems. Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep, I can reach out and almost feel your hand in mine. It is hard to let go, let me tell you.
But I don't dream of you. Probably because you're with me every waking moment. Every single second of every single day, you're with me. Your thought dwells in my mind. Doesn't matter if I'm in class or in the middle of the test or laughing at the jokes my friends crack when we sit down to lunch. You're always there. Even though we're twelve thousand miles apart, you're always there.
Last night I dreamt I was sitting on the park bench. Twilight was fading fast, and the moon was out. The grass was soaked with pre-winter dew. There wasn't a soul in sight. Even the leaves on the trees didn't rustle. No, it was just me, chin cupped in hand, my mother's pashmina shawl draped across my shoulders. The wintry air made me shiver a little. I wondered why I was there.
I was straining to see something, anything in the dark. For the longest of sixty seconds, nothing happened. And then I saw you. You appeared out of nowhere (kind of how you just stumbled into my life, I couldn't help myself thinking) and even in the gathering gloom I saw you smiling back at me. And, like the millions of times before, my heart did a little skip, and I felt a tingling warmth flood my belly.
You came closer and closer, and with every step you took I thought I was going to fade away into nothingness. Even in my dreams, you had that effect on me. And, once you were standing only a breath away, you looked at me and I looked at you, and when you sat down next to me I dissolved in tears and you took me in your arms and for the first time since the last time we met I thought everything was going to be all right.
And then I woke up. Instead of the hammering and grinding and sawing, I heard the cherry blossoms ripple in the breeze and I knew I wasn't home.
I long to dream that dream again. It gives me back those moments I left behind. Those moments are all that I have left of you and me.
SHE is sucha b#@^h!” That is a common dialogue heard these days. It is said that backbiting is a sin, but what the hell? So far we all do that. It is vague what the history of backbiting is; it probably came when people started communicating, or even before that. There are different types of people with different type of backbitings…
“U and I”
“He is sucha snob you know…”
“She looks so ugly in that dress…”
And so on. They are supposed to be angry at each other, its still backbiting.
“Dost that girl has the ugliest bf”
“Hey! Look at her… dude, why would you want to be friends with her?”
“I thought she was your cousin…”
It is not usually provided that one person hates the other, it is just done for entertainment… literally.
Person 1: “That guy is the reservoir of ajaira pechaal. Trust me, he is not trustworthy. I am so not lying!”
Person 2: “I hear you are best friends with him?”
Person 1: “Ki je bolosh! I just hang out with him because he is a good example of… oh dosto, did you see abul's sister's new-found hotness…?”
“Bhabhi janen oi meyeta na amar khalato boner jethato chachir meye. Meye sharadin baire thaake ar cheleder satha ghure!! Amar meye …”
People in stress
Interestingly, if therapy is defined, it is a process that makes the situation better for a person to function in the environment that he/she is in. We are taking into consideration, that backbiting can be a therapeutic way for the weak.
“The words of a slanderer spread strife and contention; they destroy friendships and stir up anger” Backbiting does build up negative energy in you, so why increase the dark vigor building up in your mind that takes you to the level where your soul gets tormented by these spiteful vibes…
By Raida Kifait
Falling in love with RS
THE first time I met RS, I was just a kid. I still remember him being this plain and simple guy. But, he used to be one of the funniest and charming guys I had ever met. Yet, I never really had the guts to go ahead and talk to him. Just felt as though I was too young and probably not good enough. And slowly, I watched as he changed. It was difficult at first, seeing the small little things about him change. However gradually, I grew into liking it. He had more colour on his cheeks, he was smarter, started wearing nice and casual clothes. He was never too flashy and that is probably why he looked so adorable.
Then when I finally turned sixteen, I decided it was time to make my first move. We went out on a date; he sure asked a lot of questions! And I think I came out completely as a nervous wreck! After that one date, I was sure he was never going to see me ever. And guess what? I had been right to be so depressed because he didn't even call me! I had given up all hope and grew more miserable as my heart refused to make any attempts to forget him. Then one day, out of the blue, he gave me a call! He wanted to see me! He did! It was the 21st of February, 2007. I'll never forget that date.
Ok, things were a little weird between us in the beginning. I was finding it a little difficult, adjusting with him. But as months passed by, we became more comfortable with each other. That's when we really hit it off! I watched as a childhood crush unfolded and transformed into this deep warm feeling called love. Yes, I was in love with him!
Today, I am proud to say that I am a part of him, his very soul. Maybe he still doesn't care for me as much as I do for him, but I suppose I should just give it more time. You won't believe it, but he is soo very different from what he used to be. He's become even better! Now he has turned into this really cool dude with a new look and everything. He keeps track of all the hot things going on, he knows all about music and the best thing is that the good old humour is till intact. Girls are chasing him like crazy! But I don't mind, because I'm going to make sure that he's all mine…!
By Nayeema Reza
MANY people in Bangladesh say that Mohammad Zafar Iqbal is one of the most well known writers. So one day I decided to see if I enjoyed his writing. I remembered the book given to me as a gift and pulled out “Nayeera” from my book shelf and started to read.
This is the story of Neera Tratina who is a world famous space scientist. Unknown to her she is cloned to create 19 identical girls. These girls are being brought up in a hidden laboratory. Clones are not humans so they don't have any names. They are recognized through numbers. The clone girls are used for scientific experiments and when each one is taken away the rest of them give her a name. 'Nayeera' is one such name.
The story is written in a chronological style in lucid bangla, which appeals to people of many generations. The description of the environment and emotions of the character are written in great details. Zafar Iqbal has used a very emotional approach to cloning to tell us that this world is full of people who only care about themselves. But he has also reminded us that still some people fight with the hope of enlightened human beings living in harmony with each other.
I really loved reading this book. The part where Rishan says that he will become a star when he dies and Neera will always be able to see him when she looks at the sky with her nineteen children made me cry. It was so beautifully written. I could feel what Nayeera felt when Rishi died and she found out the truth about the so called 'inhuman' people. I loved the character of Neera who is so brave, calm, intelligent, inspiring and persuasive.
But there is one thing I didn't like about the book. That is the use of gory details of the death of Rishi. Mr. Iqbal describes how blood spurted out of Rishi's body to spread the poisoned blood over the hilly area. Maybe he described the incident thoroughly because he wanted the reader to understand the pain felt by Nayeera and to show the cruelty of humans. He ends the book with an interesting twist which you can find out by reading it.
By Nishita Aurnab
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