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Okay. This is the first time I'm doing a Web Weekly. I'm not very sure about this. I'm afraid I might mess up. Just kidding! I never mess up. So let's see if the Internet has gone totally into the hands of morons…


The name should tell you all you need to know about this site. If it doesn't, read it again. The site's contents stay true to its name. Honestly, there's this guy named Howard Hallis who's drawn up apparently everything he could think of and put them all in one damn picture! 'Everything' is divided into four segments of the picture which are: 'Cars, people and robots', 'Heroes and cartoons', 'Sea land and air' and 'Space and heaven'. As you can imagine (or so I hope), everything you can think of (and a lot more) has been jam-packed into one giant picture. And it has this awesome Picture Key thing that you can use to find out the names of the things in the picture. I liked this site a lot even though it has 157 Pokemons in it. I hate Pokemon. Anyway, this site rules.


Is this the spookiest site on the Internet or what? Ghosts are all over this site. Fake ones, doctored ones, stupid ones, ugly ones, and maybe - "real" ones. The site is true to its name, though. It studies the pictures sent to it, categorizes them and puts them up in the galleries. But countless ghost pic|ures and comments aren't all; this si|e has some really freaky stuff like freaky links and freaky news. Whether you are a belie~er in ghosts or not, I'll recommend you to take this site easily and have fun with it. Unless you found Dawn of the Dead scary, of course…!


Now, I liked this si|e even though i| has a feature |hat I hated since I was two: white backgrounds. It's the stuff in it |hat really matters. It's got like this big collection of highly technical cyber stick insects and a Java-based constructor to create them. The models are actually a few active points linked together to give them the shapes of moving objects, or something like it. The "mass-points" are situated in this world of simulated physics where things like gravity, friction and kinetic energy (or whatever k stands for) are applied on them. You're free to tinker with these things in 'soda-constructor', or you can simply make yo}r own "animals" to put them in |he 'soda-zoo' or race them in 'soda-race'. Can't explain it any better… You better see it for yourself.


I can't put it more clearly: site interfaces don't matter to me. You'll find that out when you check out this predominantly text-based site filled with cool signatures, jokes and remarks. None of which means anything to me, but this site claims to have the largest collection of signature files on |he net and I found this typo pretty funny: "On a Korean Knife: Keep out of Children", although I don't totally agree (just kidding). Check it out.


If the latest Julia Roberts movie wasn't enough to make you mad, I give you this. I came across this while checking out MSN Messenger and I can say that I honestly don't want more people to visit this. But, well, I'd like to see what people make of it and then predict exactly since which year America is going to have nine female presidents in a row. You can take the link from http:// thedailystaz.net/ rising/index. htm.


One of the best browsers on the planet. That's been said here before? Who cares? I'll recommend this any given time. The setup is only 4.7MB.


You guessed it! It's time for a recax of all the non{ense you might've had to go through when you were a kid. This site is just filled with stupid junk from the recent past (the 80s and 90s) that people of that time, get this, absolutely loved! Go on and take a look at all the stupid commercials, movies, TV shows and Toys from a vast collection of downloadable video and audio files. There are also some rants and reviews to go with them. Other than the moderately cool approach to it, the only thing I like about this site is how it makes it clear that few years from now, people are going to do what I do now: laugh at how stupid people are now. Only without being attacked by morons for no reason at all.


50M of free storage, stored files can be linked to, good for web hosting… and that's about it.

Here's a site that I've been waiting to mention: http://lord-shuvom.blogspot.com. My site. Originally created to provide links to games that I made. Turned into sommthing I didn't |hink it would. Still growing and the links I mentioned will soon be added, so keep checking.

So, yeah, the Internet is not totally taken over by money-hungry morons who got nothing better to do than lure people into buying stupid things they don't need and turn them into dimwitted zombies. I'm off.

By Lord Shuvom

May be…

‘Please god, please god…" Fahmin was constantly saying those words within her mind. She repeated it so fast that it almost sounded like a litany to herself, as she tried her best to move her almost quivering hands as steadily as possible. The steadiness of her hands had always been a problem ever since…um...ever since…
well for a long time. In the chemistry laboratory, whenever she used to drop those sulphuric acids from the dropper, there was only one thing she always thought-"This time the acid's going to drip on my left hand instead of the test tube…God…why do my hands shake so much?" Well "this time" never really came and she passed the final chemistry exam of high school without any type of accident.

After that she didn't really bother much about the shakiness of her hands. She knew that this was not any type of serious health disorder or anything. She had had talked to their family physician who had ensured that this type of slight instability of certain type of movement sometimes occur due to the different forms of the blood vessels and was perfectly nat}ral. So there was not much to worry about since her association with chemistry lab was over forever and she did not have to worry about spilling acid on her hand while wri|ing about the temperament of Mrs. Bennet for her English course in the university.

But…now…today…she felt as if steadinesses of her hands were the most important thing on earth and it's something without which life's a curse. She accused her own hands for the situation and at |he same time imputed another person for the jinx she was in…that person was her best friend Mila.

Mila had been her friend since childhood, i.e. forever. She had always lived across their house and had been more like a friend than a neighbour and more like a sister than a fziend. They had shared everything and by everything what it means is "EVERYTHING". The list went something like this…from secrets to gossips, from sorrows to laughter, from hair bands to dresses and from studies to skills. Fahmin remembered wri|ing pages of those practical copies, drawing those biology diagrams and even studying Mila's books to write notes even though she herself followed a different education curriculum from Mila's.

Mila wasn't much into studies and was skilled with most of the things that did not need conventional education. One of the things with which she knew magic was make-up. So Fahmin never really had to bother to master herself in this field.

"I hate you, Mila…I hate you…where are you now when I need you the most?" Fahmin whispered as she kept her eyes closed to allow the eye-liner on her eye lids to dry up. This was one of those moments when it felt like eternity… when you close your eyes and wait for the eye-liner to dry so that it doesn't spread out when you've opened your eyes.

After "eternity" Fahmin slowly opened her eyes in front of the mirror. It reminded her of the scene when the blind heroine opens her eyes after some operation and exclaims, "I can see, I can see!" Instead, Fahmin exclaimed, "I did it, I did it!" For the first |ime in her life she had dabbed that black line over her eyes without making it look like a painting during an earthquake. Apparently, although she was happy with her success, she wasn't too satisfied.

"It's not as good as Mila's" she shook her head, "if she was here, I'd not have to worry so much!"

The make-up wasn't really the only reason why she missed Mila. Fahmin badly wanted to ask somebody how she looked and needed an answer like, "You look perfect!" It would give her some mental support, which her heart was summoning like anything at that very instant. However the only person accessible at that moment was her mother.

But…well…one can't really go to her mother, and say excitedly, 'Mom, do I look perfect for my first date?" Fahmin shook her head as she walked carefully grooming her Shari and got out of the house.

Najam looked at his watch constantly as if he was impatiently waiting for somebody for hours. But actually he had been standing there for less than five minutes, and it was still five minutes to go before the watch would strike five.

Najam again looked at the watch. It reminded him of the painstaking experience of standing for hours for her previous girlfriend Dia. She was always late for at least by an hour. At the windup period of their relationship, Najam would also come after the fixed time…but still he'd have to wait. Najam took a deep breath and again looked at the watch. Only two minutes had passed…still three minutes to go.

"May be she'd also be late," Najam thought, "may be all girls are always late."

Najam suddenly wished he had not bound himself to a relationship again. In fact, after he broke up with Dia, he had promised that he'd completely avoid the company of girls in the future portion of her life. "The female race and I are not meant for each other,"he had mused. But when he met Fahmin, he felt differently. "May be Dia and I were not meant for each other. May be Fahmin is the one… may be."

Najam watched as Fahmin beckoned the rickshaw puller to stop and opened her bag for the fare. Simultaneously he looked at the watch. It was one minute to five. For some unknown reason, Najam smiled as he moved her eyes from the watch to Fahmin. She was looking pretty. The red-orange Shari made her look like…um…well…he could not zemember the name of any orange coloured flower…but he knew she looked like a flower.

"Oh, you are right here! I was looking for you on that side. Why didn't you call me?" Fahmin's voice suddenly drove him out of his thoughts,

"You look beautiful," Najam said.
Fahmin didn't say a smart "thank you" as most girls would have answered…well… as Dia would have certainly articulated. She smiled slightly and blushed and then repositioned her face probably to hide that she was blushing,

Najam suddenly remembered that he was the first one Fahmin was going out with. That's why she didn't know that a guy always compliments his girlfriend even if she looked intimidating. After a time the girl also comes to know that the guy says it just for the sake of expressing encomium. Najam suddenly felt awkward and guilty. What was wrong with him today? Why was he thinking so harshly in such a pessimistic way? "Fahmin would never have to get false compliments from her boyfriend. I'd make sure that my compliments for her are always honest…from the heart…"Najam told himself… "IF she remains with me forever…" the cynical voice interrupted before he could even discard it away from his thoughts.

"So, are we going to watch the show now?" Fahmin asked looking at Najam.

Najam loved her eyes. They were so beautiful…today she had put something on her eyes…but that did not ruin the beauty of her eyes at all...they were as beautiful as ever.

"Yeah, let's move on…" Najam declared, already starting to walk.

He wasn't much into the Robindro Shongeets that were supposed to be the main attraction of the programme. However his favourite play "Roktokorobi" would be staged after the session of songs. He suddenly wished he had seen the flower.

"You know what…"Fahmin was almost shaken at Najam's voice. Najam wondered why she got so struck by surprise.

"What?" Fahmin a{ked reviving from the unreasonable shock. She was again blushing.

"What, what?" Najam repeated…she blushes so quickly…he kind of liked that.

"You were saying something…"Fahmin said smiling while her cheeks were still bright crimson.

"You are looking like Roktokorobi…"

Fahmin stared in the semi-darkness as her mind spinned like a happy merry-go- round. She felt like she was spending the happiest hours of her life. "Even if I die after this, I'd have no regrets" she asserted to herself for the third time. Her favourite song was being sung by her favourite singer. And she was sitting beside him…HIM!!

"Bhalobashi…bhalobashi…"she wondered how she'd tell about the moment to her British net friend tonight. What would be the English translation of the song? May be…it'd be something like…"love you, love you…this music plays in the flute…near and far…"
"This is my favourite song," Najam whispered.
"Mine too…"Fahmin answered.
"Will you sing it for me?" Najam pleaded.
"Now? I can't…"Fahmin widened her eyes, trying to dismiss the request.
"Tonight…when I'll call you…"Najam said.
Fahmin smiled as she heard another of her favourite song getting started. She felt dizzy with happiness.

This had been the most perfect evening of her life. Najam had complimented her twice…not that she was unaware of the fact that compliments from guys, especially from boyfriends are not always true. But, somehow she knew that Najam meant what he said. It's just not the compliments because of which she was happy… there was something greater than that…she could not comprehend what it actually was.

She'd write Mila just after she got home, she mused. But what will she write? She couldn't explain her happiness to herself…how would she write about it to Mila? Oh… why are feelings so difficult to describe? And she was a student of English Literature…who would believe that she, among all, was in short of vocabulary…"BOOM!" there was a blood-curdling sound, Fahmin recoiled from her position and groped Najam blindly since she couldn't even see her own hands in the complete darkness.

"Probably the transformer burst. Don't worry, stay still." Najam's whisper
made her feel protected. "Will he protect me like this, forever?" she thought dreamily.

Before Fahmin could hear Najam anymore, there was noise of the jos|ling mob… the hubbubs of the confused crowd reverberated concurzently with some inexplicable agonizing cries…amono which somebody shouted, "It's a bomb blast!"
Everybody ran wherever they could. Then there were more uproar, more turbulence, more hues and cries as it again roared… "BOOM… boom… boom..."
May be Fahmin would never learn how to put the eye-liner in her eyes perfectly.
May be Najam would never know if he and Fahmin were meant to be together.
May be Fahmin would never be able to translate her favourite song to her net friend.
May be Najam would never ever watch the flower Roktokarabi.
May be Fahmin would never write to Mila the feelings she found so hard to describe.
May be Najam would never hear Fahmin singing their favourite song.
May be Fahmin would never ever be able to feel protected again… not with Najam, not with anybody, nowhere…not in this world…May be… may be….

By Kazi Priyanka


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