Unwrap Indian Culture by Abstract Scriber

 काफ़ी दिनों बाद आज फिर से लिखने की यह वजह हुई है, लगता है दिल में फिर किसी गहरे दर्द की जगह हुई है। खुश रहने की मैंने तो हर एक कोशिश कर देखी, पर वक्त ने हर बार मेरी बदनसीबी दिखा दी... कहता है वक्त— 'कहाँ तेरी किस्मत में खुशी और प्यार है?' तू तो बस ग़म-ए-दिल के साये में जीने को लाचार है। वह शख्स कहता तो है कि बेइंतिहा प्यार करता है मुझसे, पर खुदा जाने, किस क़दर और कैसा प्यार करता है मुझसे! ना उसे मेरे बहने वाले आँसू कभी दिखते हैं, ना मेरी खामोशी के पीछे छुपे ग़म दिखते हैं। ना अब उसका दिल करता है मुझे एक नज़र देखने का, ना कोशिश करता है मेरा हाल-ए-दिल समझने का... वह क्या जाने कि किस तरह से प्यार किया जाता है, कैसे किसी के टूटे दिल को आग़ोश में लिया जाता है। उसकी हर एक आदत में मैं बस प्यार को ढूँढती हूँ, ज़िंदगी में उसकी अपना वजूद मैं ढूँढती हूँ। पर सच तो यह है कि मेरा कोई हिस्सा ही नहीं उसकी दास्तान में, मैं बस एक नाम की भागीदार हूँ उसके आशियाने में। ना जाने क्या सिखा गई उसे वह पहली लड़की उस दौर में, मैं कितनी भी कोशिश कर लूँ, कम ही रहूँगी उसके शहर में। वैसा प्यार शायद मुझे कभी नसीब ही ...

ଆକାଶରୁ ଶ୍ରାବଣର ସେଇ ବାରିଧାରା ଯେତେବେଳେ ଢେଙ୍କାନାଳ ପାହାଡ଼ିଆ ରାସ୍ତାକୁ ଭିଜେଇ ଦିଏ, ଠିକ୍ ସେତିକିବେଳେ ମନର କୋଣରେ ଜମି ରହିଥିବା ସ୍ମୃତିର ପାଉଁଶ ତଳୁ କିଛି ନିଆଁର ଝୁଲ ଦାଉ ଦାଉ ହୋଇ ଜଳିଉଠେ। ଠିକ ସେମିତି, ହେଇ ହେଇ ଦି ଯୁଗ ବିତିଗଲା | ପଚିଶ ବର୍ଷ! ଶୁଣିବାକୁ ଗଲେ ଏଇଟା ଖାଲି ଗୋଟେ ସଂଖ୍ୟା ଭଳି ଲାଗେ, ହେଲେ ଏଇ ପଚିଶଟା ବର୍ଷର ଯାତ୍ରା ଭିତରେ କେତେ ଯେ ଅକୁହା କାହାଣୀ ଲୁଚି ରହିଛି, ତାହା କେବଳ ଏହି ଘରର ଚାରିକାନ୍ଥ ହିଁ ଜାଣନ୍ତି। ଆଜି ଯେତେବେଳେ ବାବା ଆଉ ମାମାଙ୍କର ଏହି ବିଭାହ ବାର୍ଷିକୀ, ଧନ୍ୟବାଦ ସେ ଜ୍ୟୋତିଷ କୁ ଯିଏ ପ୍ରସ୍ତାବ ନେଇ ଆସିଥିଲା ଆଉ ଧନ୍ୟ ପରିବାର ଲୋକ ସବୁ ଯିଏ ରାଜଯୋଟକ ଖୁସି ରେ ବାହାଘର କରିଦେଲେ | ମୁଁ ଭାବେ ଏଇ ‘ରାଜଯୋଟକ’ ବାହାଘର ସତରେ କ’ଣ? ୟାର ଜ୍ୱଳନ୍ତ ଉଦାହରଣ ହେଉଛନ୍ତି ମୋ ବାବା ଆଉ ମାମା। ସତରେ, ଯେତିକି ଜଲ୍ଦି ଆମ ଘରେ ଝଗଡ଼ା ଆରମ୍ଭ ହୁଏ, ସେତିକି ଜଲ୍ଦି ସରି ବି ଯାଏ। ଆମ ଘରେ ସବୁଠୁ ଲମ୍ବା ଝଗଡ଼ା ବୋଧେ ଘଣ୍ଟେ ପାଇଁ ଚାଲେ। ହାଲ୍ଲା ହୁଏ, ପୁଣି ସମସ୍ତେ ଥକିଯାଇ ନିଜକୁ ନିଜେ ସ୍ୱାଭାବିକ କରିଦିଅନ୍ତି। ଏଇଟା ହିଁ ତ ରାଜଯୋଟକର ସୁନ୍ଦରତା ବୋଧେ| ପିଲାଦିନର କଥା ତ ମୋର ଏତେ ମନେ ନାହିଁ, ହେଲେ ଏବେ ବଡ଼ ହେଲା ପରେ ଜାଣିଲି, ମୁଁ ସମସ୍ତଙ୍କ ଭଳି ‘ନନା’ କି ‘ବୋଉ’ ଡାକିପାରୁନଥିଲି। ମୋ ପାଟିରୁ ପ୍ରଥମେ ବାହାରିଥିଲା ସେଇ ‘ବାବା’ ଆଉ ‘ମାମା’। ଆଜି ବୁଝୁଛି, ଏକ ...

She chases the city lights, clicking moments that feel like whispers. Every frame narrates a story, every street a promise of new beginnings. Her love isn’t for places, but for the magic they let her carry home.

मैं चाहती हु, जब भी मुझे कोई देखे, मेरी शब्दों के ज़रिए देखे मुझे । शब्दों में छुपी हुई कहानी वह खुद से सुलझाए । थोड़ा मेहनत करे सोचने में, मैं जैसी हु, क्यों हु। बिन कहे वो समझ पाए, मेरी पसंद और नापसंद , इतनी बड़ी सपने नहीं है, बस पता हो उससे, मैं बिना इजहार किए प्यार करती हूं। बिना जताए, किसी और के लिए सब उसके नाम करने से डरती नहीं हूँ। मैं नाराज़ रहूं, वह महंगे चीजों से नहीं, कुछ किताबों से मनाए मुझे। कहीं दूर ना सही, हाथ ना छोड़े घुमाने ले जाए, और उतना ना हो तो बस मेरी पसंद की खिचड़ी खिलादे मुझे। मैं चुप रहूं, वह कविताएं सुनाए, मेरी लिखी कविताएं में अपने आप को मिलाए मुझे । मैं प्यार करूंगी उससे, इतनी कि सुबह की काफ़ी छोड़ के, मैं उसके साथ एक प्याले अदरक वाली कड़क चाय पियूंगी । मैं उसके लिए  अपनी चांद, फूल, सफ़र, आसमान, बारिश छोड़ के, उसके लिए कविता लिखूंगी। गंगा घाट के किनारे, सफ़ेद कुर्ते में, बिखरे बालों में, हाथ पे हाथ थाम के बैठेंगे तो, वादा रहा, मैं सब नजारा छोड़ के उसको ताकते रहूंगी। और अगर तब भी प्यार कम पड़ जाए, किताबों का नाम भी तुम्हारी नाम।

कहते हैं राधा ने कभी ईर्ष्या नहीं की, पर ख़ुदा ही जानता है, हर बार जब गोपियाँ बाँसुरी पर मुस्कराती थीं, उसका दिल काँप जाता था। वो जानती थी, कृष्ण उसका था, पर प्रेम? प्रेम तो नदी है, किसी के नाम पर नहीं रुकता। वो अक्सर ईश्वर से लड़के कहती, “तूने मुझे इतना प्रेम दिया, फिर छीन भी क्यों लिया?” और ईश्वर मुस्कराकर बोलते, “जिसे खो देने पर भी तू प्रेम करे, वही सच्चा प्रेम है।” राधा तब चुप हो जाती — आँखों में आँसू नहीं, बस एक धीमी मुस्कान रह जाती, जैसे उसने ईर्ष्या में भी प्रेम का अर्थ खोज लिया हो। क्योंकि सच्चे प्रेम में वियोग भी पूजा बन जाता है, और खोया हुआ कृष्ण दिल में ही मंदिर रच देता है।

काफिर, कौन है? तुम में, शायद हम सब! वो ईश्वर को नहीं मानता, वो बेवक़त करता है, मेरे रे, अजनबी रे। हर नियम से बाहर खड़ा है, बचनों को नहीं मानता, अपने दम का शागिर्द है। वो इश्क़ को मज़बूत से ऊँपर रखता है, और कर्मों को तक़रीर से। काफिर कोई भाषा नहीं, कोई एहसास है। वो शब्द सिर्फ़ एक शब्द नहीं, हमारे भीतर का आईना है। सफर जीवन है, काफिर जिज्ञासा ।

I watched 8 A.M. Metro and felt like the film was quietly reading parts of me I never said aloud. It’s not really about trains or destinations, it’s about pauses, the kind we take when life feels too noisy inside. Saiyami Kher’s Iravati isn’t just a character; she’s every person who wakes up, shows up, and still carries an unnamed ache. And Gulshan Devaiah’s Preetam; he doesn’t save her, he simply sees her. Sometimes, that’s all we need. To be seen. To be understood without explanation. The film reminded me that companionship doesn’t always arrive as love stories do. Sometimes it arrives as poetry on a tired morning, as a stranger who listens, as silence that feels safe. We’re all on our own metros, missing stops, taking wrong ones, finding unexpected faces that make the journey softer.  Maybe, that’s what life is, not about reaching, but about who sits beside us for a few stations.

ଜଙ୍ଗଲ କାହାକୁ ଜାଣେନି, ତୁମେ, ମୁଁ, ଆମେ ସବୁ ତା ସାମ୍ନା ରେ ସମାନ। ତୁମେ କେତେ କଣ ହାରିକି ଆସିଛ, କେତେ କଣ ଜିତି ଯାଇଛ, କେତେ ଧନୀ, କେତେ ଗରିବ , କିଛି ଜାଣେନି, କି ଜାଣିବାକୁ ଚେଷ୍ଟା କରେନି ତା’ର ପାଇଁ ସବୁ ପାଦଚିହ୍ନ ସମାନ, ଯିଏ ବି ଡାକି ଦେଲେ ଓ କରିବ , କୋଳେଇ ନେବ । ଗଛ ପଚାରେନି, ତୁମେ ଖୁସି ର ଗନ୍ଧ ନେଇ ଆସିଛ, ନା ଅଭିମାନର ସୁଗନ୍ଧ। ସେ ପତ୍ର ଝଡାଏ, ଚଲା ରାସ୍ତା ରେ ବିଞ୍ଚି ଦିଏ ଫୁଲ, ସମସ୍ତ ଙ୍କ ପାଇଁ ସେଇ ସମାନ ପ୍ରତିଧ୍ୱନି ରେ | ପ୍ରେମ ଏଠି ନିଷ୍ପକ୍ଷ, ଆଲିଙ୍ଗନ କରେ ତୁମକୁ, ମୋତେ, ଓ ଅସଫଳତାକୁ ସମାନ ଭାବେ।

ସବୁ ବିଷୟରେ ଲେଖିବା କେତେ ସହଜ , ହେଲେ ମାଆ ମାନଙ୍କ ବିଷୟରେ କିଛି ଲେଖିବା ପାଇଁ ମୁଁ ବହୁତ ଚେଷ୍ଟା କଲେ ବି ଲେଖିପାରେନି| ଯେତେ ଲେଖିଲେ କିଛି ନା କିଛି ରହିଯାଏ | ଆଜି ବି କିଛି ଲେଖିଛି ଆଉ ବହୁତ କିଛି ରହିଯାଇଛି। ନିଜକୁ ବହୁତ ସାଧାରଣ ବୋଲି ଭାବୁଥିବା ମଣିଷ ଯେ ଏତେ ବଡ ପରିବାର କୁ ବାନ୍ଧି ରଖିଛି , ଘର କୁ ଘର କରି ରଖିଛି , ସାଧାରଣ ମାଟି କୁ ସୁନା କରିଦେଇଛି। ବିନା କିଛି ସର୍ତ୍ତ ରେ ନିଜର ଅସ୍ତିତ୍ବ୍ୟ କୁ ଜଳାଞ୍ଜଳି ଦେଇଦିଏ, ଝିଅ ବେଳେ ମୁହଁ ଫୁଲଉଥିବା ଗେଲ୍ଲୀ ମାନେ କେମିତି କେଜାଣି ଏତେ ଶକ୍ତ ହେଇଯାନ୍ତି | ସମୟ ନିହାତି ଭାବେ କିଛି ମାତ୍ରା ରେ ଦାୟୀ କିନ୍ତୁ ସ୍ତ୍ରୀ ମାନେ ହିଁ ଏମିତି । ଏମିତି ବହୁତ କିଛି ଘଟଣା ଯାହା ଉପରେ ଲେଖିଲେ ବୋଧେ ଉପନ୍ୟାସ ହେଇଯିବ | ଏତେ ଧୈର୍ୟ , ଶାନ୍ତ, ସରଳ ହେଇକି ବି ମା ସମସ୍ତଙ୍କୁ ଚଳେଇ ଜାଣେ, ସତରେ ଭଗବାନ ବହୁତ ଫୁରସତ ରେ ମା ମନ କୁ ତିଆରି କରିଛନ୍ତି | କଥା କଥା ରେ କିଛି ଜଣ ନିଜର ଗୁଣ ଗାନ କରିବାରେ ପାରଙ୍ଗମ। ବହୁତ ସୁନ୍ଦର ଭାବରେ କଥା କୁ ଲଥା କରି ଲମ୍ବା ଉପନ୍ୟାସ ଟିଏ ଲେଖି ଦିଅନ୍ତି। ନିଜ ବିଷୟରେ, ନିଜ ପସନ୍ଦ ର ଲୋକଙ୍କ ବିଷୟରେ। କିନ୍ତୁ କଥା ଯଦି ଆଉ କାହା ଉପରକୁ ଆସେ କି ନିଜ ଘର ର ସ୍ତ୍ରୀ ଲୋକଙ୍କ ଉପର କୁ କଥା ଆସେ " ହଁ ମ ସେ ସେଥିରେ ବଡ଼ କଥା କଣ, ଏତିକି ତ ସମସ୍ତଙ୍କୁ ଜଣା । ଘର ହିଁ ତ ସମ୍ଭାଳିବାର ଅଛି" ଆଉ ଏଇ ପରିପ୍ରେକ୍ଷୀରେ ରେ...

I Just Want to Be a Friend. I just want to be a friend. Not a role to fulfill. Not a name to carry. Not someone you label daughter, colleague, woman, or "just a girl". I don’t want to be measured by how softly I speak, how much I care, or how little I ask for. I just want to sit beside you without being anyone to you. Not someone you feel responsible for. Not someone you're careful with. Just... someone you're real with. Let me pour my heart in the silence of a chai cup, without you searching for hidden meaning. Let me speak of my day, my fears, my awkward little hopes without you assuming I'm asking for more. Don’t compare me to the brand I wear, The figure I don’t have, The shade of my skin, Or how much I earn or save. Don’t calculate my worth in labels or paychecks. I’m not a product. I’m a person. Don't look at me like a riddle. Don't answer me like a question. I don't want to be someone's daughter. Or someone's "maybe". Or someon...

ନିଜ ଜୀବନର ନାୟିକା, ବିନା କାରଣ ରେ ହସିଦିଏ। ନାୟକ ଆସି ହାତ ଧରେନି , ଚାହା କପେ ଯାଚେନି। ପବନ ରେ ଚୁଟି ମାନେ ଉଡ଼ିଲେ, କେହି ତାର ଫଟୋ ଉଠାନ୍ତିନି। ଶାଢ଼ୀ ରେ ସେ ସୁନ୍ଦର ଦେଖା ଗଲେ ବି, କେହି ତା ପାଇଁ କବିତା ଲେଖନ୍ତିନି। ସେ ହସିଦିଏ, ପ୍ରତିଦିନ ଚେଷ୍ଟା କରେ ନିଜକୁ ଭଲପାଇବା ଶିଖିବାକୁ। ଆଇନା ସାମ୍ନାରେ ହସେ, ପଛେ ନିଜେ ନିଜକୁ ପଚାରେ “କେବେ ନିଜ ହୃଦୟକୁ ମୁଁ ସତରେ ବୁଝିପାରିବି?” ସେ ଜାଣେ, ପ୍ରେମ କେବେ ସମ୍ପୂର୍ଣ୍ଣ ନୁହେଁ। କେବେ ଛନ୍ଦ ପଡିନଥିବା କବିତା ଧାଡ଼ିଏ, ତ କେବେ ଝାପସା ହେଇ ଆସୁଥିବା ଫିକା ନାଲି ରଙ୍ଗ। ତଥାପି ଅପେକ୍ଷା କରେ ସେ, ଯିଏ ତାର ନିରବତା ବୁଝିବ, ଚାହା କପେ ଆଉ ସମୟ ନେଇ ଆସିଥିବ, ଅଧା ଲେଖା କବିତା କୁ କବି ଯେମିତି ଭଲ ପାଏ, ସେମିତି ଢଙ୍ଗ ରେ ତାକୁ ଭଲ ପାଇବ ।

तुम, मैं, हम सब बिना चाहे भी एक कहानी के हिस्से बनते हैं। तुम मानो या ना मानो एक खालीपन तुम्हारी, मेरी और हमारी हिस्सेदारी है। और वो कहानी, हमारी जिंदगी का हिस्सा बनते जाते हैं। एक रोज फिर से, तुम अपने रास्ते निकल जाओगे, और मैं अपने। एक सुबह होगी, फिर टकरायेंगे किसी कहानी में हम, हम मिलेंगे, मैं तुम्हें अपनी seat से बैठने को बोलूंगी, तुम मुस्कुराना, बैठ जाना और मेरे station तक मुझे छोड़ने आना। सफ़र मैं हिस्सेदारी ख़त्म होने पे भी भारी सा लगता है ।

एक लड़का था… उसके बिखरे बाल भी बड़े कमाल लगते थे, और हँसी में जो गड्ढा पड़ता, बस दिल ही खो जाता। मैं कुछ बोलती, तो बस मुस्कुराकर कहता— "अरे, बातें करना सीख ले।" सफ़ेद शर्ट में तो और भी जंचता था, शरमाते हुए उसका अंदाज़… बस दिल खुश हो जाता। उससे दिल की हर बात हो जाती थी, वह सुनता, समझता, मुस्कुराता, और फिर समझा भी देता। मैं खुद को कुछ बोलूँ, तो वह कहता— "सुंदरता तो देखने वालों की आँखों में होती है।" मैं सज़कर जाती, तो वह पीछे से नज़र चुराकर देखता, और मुझे जैसे और भी प्यारा लगता। बातों-बातों में समय निकल जाता, और मैं सोचती ना जाने फिर कब मिलेंगे, कहां होंगे, कैसी हालत में होंगे। पर वो लड़का… मोहब्बत का शगुन था। अगर कह पाती, तो बस इतना कहती— जब मैं खुद से पूछती, कोई मुझसे प्यार क्यों करेगा… तो बस उसकी हँसी याद आती, और वो शब्द— "सुंदरता देखने वालों की आँखों में होती है।"

She is a girl, with hundreds of dreams that refuse to stand in a queue. They scatter like windblown pages, never overlapping, never asking for permission to exist. She doesn’t want a spotlight, or a well-crafted plan. She wants freedom, the kind no one scripts for her. Not the 9-to-5 freedom, but the Tuesday-afternoon-in-silence kind. She craves peace, that doesn’t come in podcasts or paid retreats but the one that hums quietly from open windows and rustling leaves. She wants a home, that doesn’t echo with shoulds just warmth, soft lights, and corners she can cry in without being questioned. She wants flowers, that no one asks for, the ones that bloom in shadows, the ones that won’t make it to Instagram or overpriced bouquets. She dreams of a winter, not crowded with coats and airports, just snowy silence, a bowl of hot Maggi, and socks that don’t match. A palette of colours, a canvas that listens, a camera to capture not influencers but the ugliest emotions, awkward silences, old dust...

Ever lose something and wonder, "Is the universe playing a prank on me, or is there a bigger plan?" They say the first things to go missing are socks and common sense. I can confirm this because I lost a sock last week and almost went full “Main aisa kyun hoon?” trying to find it. (Of course, my mom found it with her magic touch and in seconds. Moms are way better than Google Maps!) But life isn’t just about lost socks. We lose keys, opportunities, peace of mind, and sometimes ourselves. And in those moments, it feels like “Mere paas kuch bhi nahi bacha.” Everyone is ahead of me. Everyone is growing. But here’s what I’ve learned what’s lost isn’t always gone; it’s just taking the scenic route back to you.' Like the time I lost out on a job, I was dying to get. It felt like the end of the world. I thought. But a few months later, I got an even better offer. That’s when I realized that timing is everything. What’s meant for us always finds a way, even if it takes longer tha...

Credit: Pinterest   "How you treat your breakfast is how you treat your life." Oh! Sorry, this is not a health related post. i just read this somewhere and somehow related to this. Fast mornings. Half-eaten breakfasts. Rushed thoughts. Constant hurry. After a time, life feels like it’s always running somewhere. In between all this… there is a cup of coffee (not just a drink). This is more a small pause, quietest chance to breathe with YOURSELF. The last few months were busy. New team, new role, new expectations. I was out of linkedin, even i'm posting this after a long time. Anyways, everything looked right. I got what I wanted (greatful) I was present… but not really present. Last saturday morning, I made my coffee, added two spoons of sugar ( broke my addiction of black coffee). Sat down, sipped, and something simple came to mind. Coffee doesn’t fight na! It doesn’t fight the water. It doesn’t fight the heat. It slowly blends in. Takes IT'S TIME. Adjusts and then…...

 Blessed Enough❤️ ଆକାଶରୁ ଶ୍ରାବଣର ସେଇ ବାରିଧାରା ଯେତେବେଳେ  ଢେଙ୍କାନାଳ ପାହାଡ଼ିଆ ରାସ୍ତାକୁ ଭିଜେଇ ଦିଏ, ଠିକ୍ ସେତିକିବେଳେ ମନର କୋଣରେ ଜମି ରହିଥିବା ସ୍ମୃତିର ପାଉଁଶ ତଳୁ କିଛି ନିଆଁର ଝୁଲ ଦାଉ ଦାଉ ହୋଇ ଜଳିଉଠେ। ଠିକ ସେମିତି, ହେଇ ହେଇ ଦି ଯୁଗ ବିତିଗଲା | ପଚିଶ ବର୍ଷ! ଶୁଣିବାକୁ ଗଲେ ଏଇଟା ଖାଲି ଗୋଟେ ସଂଖ୍ୟା ଭଳି ଲାଗେ, ହେଲେ ଏଇ ପଚିଶଟା ବର୍ଷର ଯାତ୍ରା ଭିତରେ କେତେ ଯେ ଅକୁହା କାହାଣୀ ଲୁଚି ରହିଛି, ତାହା କେବଳ ଏହି ଘରର ଚାରିକାନ୍ଥ ହିଁ ଜାଣନ୍ତି।  ଆଜି ଯେତେବେଳେ ବାବା ଆଉ ମାମାଙ୍କର ଏହି ବିଭାହ ବାର୍ଷିକୀ, ଧନ୍ୟବାଦ ସେ ଜ୍ୟୋତିଷ କୁ ଯିଏ ପ୍ରସ୍ତାବ ନେଇ ଆସିଥିଲା ଆଉ ଧନ୍ୟ ପରିବାର ଲୋକ ସବୁ ଯିଏ ରାଜଯୋଟକ ଖୁସି ରେ ବାହାଘର କରିଦେଲେ | ମୁଁ ଭାବେ ଏଇ ‘ରାଜଯୋଟକ’ ବାହାଘର ସତରେ କ’ଣ? ୟାର ଜ୍ୱଳନ୍ତ ଉଦାହରଣ ହେଉଛନ୍ତି ମୋ ବାବା ଆଉ ମାମା। ସତରେ, ଯେତିକି ଜଲ୍ଦି ଆମ ଘରେ ଝଗଡ଼ା ଆରମ୍ଭ ହୁଏ, ସେତିକି ଜଲ୍ଦି ସରି ବି ଯାଏ। ଆମ ଘରେ ସବୁଠୁ ଲମ୍ବା ଝଗଡ଼ା ବୋଧେ ଘଣ୍ଟେ ପାଇଁ ଚାଲେ। ହାଲ୍ଲା ହୁଏ, ପୁଣି ସମସ୍ତେ ଥକିଯାଇ ନିଜକୁ ନିଜେ ସ୍ୱାଭାବିକ କରିଦିଅନ୍ତି। ଏଇଟା ହିଁ ତ ରାଜଯୋଟକର ସୁନ୍ଦରତା ବୋଧେ|  ପିଲାଦିନର କଥା ତ ମୋର ଏତେ ମନେ ନାହିଁ, ହେଲେ ଏବେ ବଡ଼ ହେଲା ପରେ ଜାଣିଲି, ମୁଁ ସମସ୍ତଙ୍କ ଭଳି ‘ନନା’ କି ‘ବୋଉ’ ଡାକିପାରୁନଥିଲି। ମୋ ପାଟିରୁ ପ୍ରଥମେ ବାହାରିଥିଲ...

Picture By : Quang Nguyen Vinh A story of Growth, Mistakes, and Unexpected Wins It was day one of my first internship. I joined just the day after tomorrow after my interview, and getting that mail to join was something wonderful. On time I reached there and Walked into the building. The security asked new join. As I replied “Yes” at the same moment he thumbs up with a smile. A mix of excitement and nerves swirled in my stomach. My preparation? As if you don’t know I was preparing for Govt exams as every Middle-class Indian does. And of course, I failed so I'm here today at the corporate. So unwavering happiness of a new journey and the sadness of leaving my dream both emotions rushing. I had researched the company, reviewed my notes, and even practiced some "office-ready" phrases. Ha-Ha-Ha yes, I tried my best.  Little did I know, that real-life experiences don't come from textbooks or TED Talks. So here I’m sharing the stuff I didn't know. Lesson 1: ...

Credit: Pinterest Hope you're doing well; 2024 Jan isn't wasted and you're ready for feb. today I'll be sharing a snippet of yesterday. Okay so we were having pastries, me and two of my friends. so, one of them is in relationship and another one is single as me. So, the topic moved to "Valentine's Day; how's your valentine's day going? " The one is relationship started sharing her romantic surprises, some girly talks about the kiss, hug, and the quarrel about her favorite chocolate. why he didn't get her favorite chocolate was the issue, no wonder my single friend started telling; "No one would ever love her". I astonishedly asked why not? and she told me, her body color isn't fine as everyone, she isn't attractive enough with a desired body structure and so on. you know for a moment i was stuck how someone can judge herself so bad and expect others to be fair at her? when you're accepting yourself; how someone...

Credit : Pinterest Shadows dance and play in the silence of dusk. My heart sings a mournful refrain;  I've discovered love but it didn't last forever. A brightly burning flame that cannot be sustained. Oh, my darling, you are as bright as the stars! Your beauty and grace leave me speechless. However, fate has always other plans,  and we are destined to love from afar forever. Oh, how I want to wrap you in my arms. To experience your touch and taste your sweet embrace Tragically, it looks that our love is outlawed. As a result, I've had to make peace with your fleeting glimpses. I n my dream, I see us holding hands.  Living life to the fullest, with no chaos.  But when I wake up, the sorrow of loss remains.  I'm left with only memories of your love, for whole my life.  Our love may be condemned from above,  but my hearts shall remain faithful for ever.  In my dreams, I see your face very clearly.  A vision of love so pure and beaut...