Wednesday, 29 July 2020

29.07.2020

Dear Blog
Finally i am aware of what i like to do the most.I like to write. writing things makes me feel in peace. I am powerful when i write. the helplessness doesn't bother me here. In my workplace i deals with circuit. Continuity and flow which makes a train go smooth. The most powerful things yet makes me feel dull. well obviously it lacks the beauty of everything. The nature ,the rain, the river  everything is just so beautiful and yet we manage to deprive ourself from enjoying it.

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

29 aug 19

Dear blog
I am feeling well. i know i will prove myself.
I was tempted last night. But i know which step i shd take. I can't be involved. I have to do what is needy.
Good news. i studied last night. How hindu evolved i learnt. I will make you proud. Take care of yourself. The people who is missing me tell them i will come at the right time.

Monday, 26 August 2019

27.08.19

Dear Blog
its going well.wake up early. tried what i have to do. Then as usual day with my work.i know you are worried for me ..but i am fine ,i am assuring you. Its difficult for me to understand the changing environment . but i will deal.with it..

Sunday, 25 August 2019

New Day 26.08.19

well today is a new day. after so many struggle i have finally out of every social media.
 Dear Blog the best i could do i can express my feelings with you. After so many days i am feeling happy. 
 I would have been happy if i could have tell all this things to someone which is buried deep inside my heart . Dear You someday i will overcome all this by myself.

 Till then i have to be happy for everyone around me..i have to try everything i can. and make people believe what actually i am and what they think i am not.
Till then you are my true friend

I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU

I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU

I Knew you
when holding the candle
your eyes were glowing with
the drop of tear
you promised to b last

I knew you
when your heartbeat
was trying to tell me
the story I nvr wanted to know
and I pretended to b dumb

I knew you
when your past
troubled you a lot
and you wished
I could bring u da green
When it was raining blood

I knew you
when u looked helpless
amidst the crowd
that wanted to crush
and u were sure
I cudhv stopped them

I knew you
until that day
when I proved
the GREEN i brought
wasn't brighter enough
the tear i stopped
wasn't the last

Alas! I thought I knew you

PS : Yes ,I thought I Knew you my inner self😊

Saturday, 1 November 2014

āĻļেāώ āύোāĻšোā§ąা āĻ—āϞ্āĻĒāϟো

           āϚাā§°িāφāϞিā§° āϚুāĻ•āϟোāϤ āϏāĻĻা⧟ āĻŦāĻšে āϤেāĻ“ঁ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻļুāĻ•াāχāϝোā§ąা āϚāĻ•ুāϝুā§°িāϤ āĻ•িāĻŦা āĻ…āύুāĻ­ূāϤি āĻŦিāϚাā§°ি āĻĒোā§ąাāϟো āĻ…āϤ্āϝāύ্āϤ āĻ•āĻ িāύ ।āĻŦ্āϝāϏ্āϤ āĻĒāĻĻāϚাā§°ী āĻĻুāχ-āĻāϜāύ⧰ āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা āϚāĻ•ুāϤ āĻĒā§°ে āĻŽাāύুāĻšāϜāύ,āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা āύāĻĒā§°ে ।āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা āĻāĻ•āĻĢাāϞং āĻŽাāύ āύিāϞāĻ—ā§° āĻŽāύ্āĻĻিā§°āϟোā§° āĻĒā§°া āĻ“āϞাāχ āĻĻুāϜāύ āĻāϜāύে āĻ­āĻ™āύী⧟া āĻĻুāϟাāĻŽাāύ āĻĻি⧟ে,āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা āĻ–াāϞী āĻšৈ⧟ে āĻĨাāĻ•ে āϏāύ্āĻŽুāĻ–ā§° āĻŽā§ŸāϞাāϧ⧰া āĻŦাāϤিāϟো ।āĻ āύāĻ āύāĻ•ৈ āĻŦাāϜি āωāĻ া āĻŦাāϤিāϟোāϤ āĻāϝোā§° āφāĻļাāĻ­ā§°া āϚāĻ•ুā§° āĻ–āύ্āϤেāϕ⧰ āĻŦাāĻŦে āϜিāϞিāĻ•ি āωāĻ া āϤিā§°āĻŦিā§°āύি āĻĻেāĻ–াা āϝা⧟ ।āĻ…āϞāĻĒ āĻĒāĻ›āϤে āφāĻ•ৌ āĻšেā§°াāχ āϝা⧟ āĻ­ীā§°ā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤ ।āĻĻিāύ āĻĒাā§° āĻšā§Ÿ ā§°াāϤি āφāĻšে ।āϤেāĻ“ঁ āϤাāϤেāχ āĻĨাāĻ•ে ।āĻŦ্āϝāϏ্āϤ āĻĒৃāĻĨিā§ąী āφāĻ—āĻŦাā§ি āϝা⧟ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻĒ্⧰⧟োāϜāύ āĻāĻ•েāχ āĻĨাāĻ•ে ।āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা ā§°াāϏ্āϤাāϟোāϤ āĻšুā§ąা āĻĻুā§ąা āϞাāĻ—ে ।āĻŽাāύুāĻšāĻŦোā§° āϏাā§° āĻĒাāχ āωāĻ ে āĻšāĻ াāϤে  ।ā§°āĻ™াāĻŦাāϤি āϞāĻ—া āĻ—া⧜ীāĻŦোā§° āĻĒাā§° āĻšৈ āϝা⧟ āϜোā§°েā§°ে ।āĻ­াā§ąāϞেāĻļāĻŦিāĻšীāύ āĻ­াā§ąে āĻŽাāύুāĻšāϜāύে āϚাāχ ⧰⧟ ।āϚ⧰āĻ•াā§° āϏāϞāύি āĻšā§Ÿ ।āωāύ্āύāϤিā§° āĻ­াāώāύেā§°ে ā§°াāϜāĻĒāĻĨ āωāϤ্āϤাāϞ āĻšā§Ÿ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁ āĻŽাāĻĨোāύ āϚাāχ ⧰⧟ ।āϏুāύ্āĻĻā§°ী āϝুā§ąāϤীā§° āĻšাāϤে  āϧ⧰া-āϧ⧰িāĻ•ৈ āĻ…āĻšা āĻ•োāύোāĻŦা āϝুā§ąāĻ•ে āĻ•েāϤি⧟াāĻŦা āĻ–āĻŽ-āĻ–āĻŽী⧟া āύোāϟāĻ•ৈāĻ–āĻŽাāύ āĻĻি āϝা⧟ ।āĻŽাāύুāĻšāϜāύ⧰ āĻļুāĻ•াāύ āϚāĻ•ুāĻšাāϞāϤ āϚāĻ•ুāĻĒাāύী āĻŦিā§°িāĻ™ি āωāĻ ে āĻ–āύ্āϤেāϕ⧰ āĻŦাāĻŦে ।āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύাā§° āĻĻুā§°্āĻ—āύ্āϧāϤ āϏāϚেāϤāύ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°া āϝুā§ąāϤীāĻ—ā§°াāĻ•ীā§° āĻŽুāĻ–āĻ–āύ āϤেāĻ“ঁ āĻĻেāĻ–া āύাāĻĒা⧟ ā§°ুāĻŽাāϞ⧰ āĻ†ā§ąā§°āĻŖā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤ ।āĻšāĻ াāϤে āϏāϚāĻ•িāϤ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°ে āĻŽাāύুāĻšāϜāύ ।āϤāĻĨাāĻ•āĻĨিāϤ āϏāĻŽাāϜ⧰ āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āϤেāĻ“ঁā§ąেāχāϟো !!
          āĻĒāĻĨāϟো⧟েāĻĻি āϏāĻĻা⧟ āĻ…āĻšা-āϝোā§ąা āϕ⧰ো āĻŽāχ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ­াā§ąāϞেāĻļāĻšীāύ āĻŽুāĻ–āĻ–āύāϤ āĻŽāχ āĻŦিāϚাā§°িāĻŦā§° āϚেāώ্āϟা āϕ⧰ো āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύāĻ•,āĻ•āĻ•াāχāĻĻেāωāĻ•,āĻĻেāωāϤাāĻ•,āĻĒেāĻšাāĻĻেāωāĻ•,āĻŽোāĻŽাāχāĻĻেāωāĻ•,āĻ­াāχāϟিāĻ• ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ•াāώāϤ āĻŦāĻšি āĻŽāχāĻ“ āĻāϟা ā§°াāϤি āĻĒাā§° āϕ⧰িāĻŦ āĻŦিāϚাā§°ো āφāϧাāĻĒেāϟী⧟াāĻ•ৈ āωāϜাāĻ—ā§°ে ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻŽā§ŸāϞাāϧ⧰া āĻšাāϤāĻ–āύāϤ āĻšেā§°াāχāϝোā§ąা āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύāĻ• āĻŦিāϚাā§°িāĻŦ āĻ–োāϜো āĻŽāχāĻ“ ।āĻšāĻ াāϤে āϏāϚāĻ•িāϤ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°ো āĻŽāχ āφāĻ•ৌ ।āφāχāĻĢ'āύāϟোā§°ে āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻĢāϟো āφāĻĒāϞ'āĻĄ āϕ⧰ি āĻŦাāĻš āĻŦাāĻš āϞāĻ“ঁ āĻŽāχ ।āĻĻৈāύিāĻ• āĻ–ā§ąā§° āĻ•াāĻ—āϜāĻ–āύ⧰ āĻĒ্ā§°āĻĨāĻŽ āĻĒৃāώ্āĻ াāϤ āĻĒ্ā§°āĻ•াāĻļ āĻĒোā§ąা āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻĢāϟোāĻ–āύāĻ•āϞৈ āĻ—ৌā§°ā§ą āϕ⧰ো āĻŽāχ ।ā§°াāώ্āϟী⧟ āĻĒুā§°āώ্āĻ•াā§°ো āϞāĻ“ঁ āĻŽāχ āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āύাāĻŽāϤ ।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϤেāĻ“ঁ āϤাāϤāχ āĻĨাāĻ•ে ।āĻŽোā§° āϏাāĻšāϏ āύāĻšā§Ÿ āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ•াāώāϤ āϝোā§ąাā§° āĻĒুāύ⧰ ।āĻŽāχ āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āĻšāĻŦ āύোāĻ–োāϜো !!

āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āύাāĻŽāϤ āϚāĻ•ুāĻĒাāύী āϟোāĻ•ো āĻŽāĻ‡ā§Ÿেāχ āĻŽোā§° āϏāĻ­াāĻĒāϤিā§° āĻ­াāώāĻŖāϤ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āύাāĻŽāϤ āϟ্ā§°াāώ্āϟ āφ⧰āĻŽ্āĻ­ āĻšā§Ÿ āĻŽোā§° āĻŦেংāĻ• āĻāĻ•াāωāύ্āϟāϤ ।āϤেāĻ“āĻ• āϞৈ āϕ⧰া ā§°াāϜāύীāϤি⧟ে āĻŽোāĻ• āϞৈ āϝা⧟ āωāύ্āύāϤিā§° āĻļিāĻ–ā§°āϞৈ ।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ•াāώāϤ āύাāϝাāĻ“ঁ āĻŽāχ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁ āϝে āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āĻŽাāĻĨোāύ ।āĻŽোā§° āωāύ্āύāϤিā§° āύিāĻŽিāϤ্āϤ āĻŽাāĻĨোāύ ।āĻŽোāĻ• āĻĒ্⧰⧟োāϜāύ āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ…āϏ্āϤিāϤ্āĻŦā§° ।
      āĻ•াā§°োā§°ে āĻ…āϞāĻ•্āώিāϤে āĻāĻĻিāύ āĻĒāĻĨāϟো āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āĻŽুāĻ•্āϤ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°ে ।āĻĒাā§° āĻšৈ āϝোā§ąা āϝুā§ąāϤীāĻŦোā§°ে āĻāϤি⧟া āφ⧰ু ā§°ুāĻŽাāϞ āύāϞ⧟ āύাāĻ•āϤ ।āĻšেā§°াāχ āϝা⧟ āϤেāĻ“ঁ āĻ•োāύোāĻŦা āĻ…āϜ্āĻžাāϤ āĻļ্āĻŽāϏাāύāϤ ।āϕ⧰োāĻŦাā§° āĻšেā§°াāχ āϝোā§ąা āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύ āĻĒ্⧰⧟োāϜāύāĻšীāύ āĻāχ āϏāĻŽাāϜāϤ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁā§° āĻ–āĻŦā§° āϞāĻŦāϞৈ āφ⧰ু āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āύāĻšā§Ÿ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻŽোā§° āϝে āώ্āϟেāϟাāĻ› āφāĻ›ে āϏāĻŽাāϜāϤ ।āĻŽāχ āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āύāĻšā§Ÿ !!

āωāĻĒāϏংāĻšাā§°:
   āĻāχāĻĻā§°ে āĻšেā§°াāχ āϝা⧟ āĻšাāϜাā§° āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύ āĻĒ্ā§°āϤিāĻĻিāύে ।āϤেāĻ“ঁāĻ• āϞৈ āύা āĻ•োāύোāĻŦাāχ āϚāĻ•ুāĻĒাāύী āϟোāĻ•ে,āύা āĻ•োāύোāĻŦাāχ āĻ–āĻŦā§° āϞ⧟ ।āϤেāĻ“ঁ āϝে āĻ†ā§ąā§°্āϜāύা āϏāĻŽাāϜ⧰ ,āωāύ্āύāϤিā§° āĻĒ্ā§°āϤিāĻŦāύ্āϧāĻ• ।āĻ•িāĻ›ুāĻĻিāύ⧰ āĻĒাāĻ›āϤ āĻšāĻ াāϤে ā§°াāώ্āϟাāϟৌā§ąেāĻĻি āĻĒাā§° āĻšāĻ“ঁāϤে āφāĻ•ৌ āĻĻুā§°্āĻ—āύ্āϧ⧰ āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą āĻšā§Ÿ āĻŽোā§° āώ্āϟেāϟাāĻ› āĻĨāĻ•া āύাāĻ•āϟোāϤ ।āφ⧰ু āĻāϜāύ āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύ⧰ āĻ…াā§ąিāĻ­াā§ą āĻšā§Ÿ ।āĻĒোāύাāĻ•āύāĻ• āϜী⧟াāχ ā§°āĻ–াāϟোāϝে āĻ…āϤি āĻ†ā§ąāĻļ্āϝāĻ• āĻŽোā§° !!!



 






Sunday, 12 October 2014

āϚুāϟিāĻ—āϞ্āĻĒ : āĻ­ুāϞ---āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟⧰ āϝাāϤ্ā§°া

: āĻŽোā§° āĻāϤি⧟াāĻ“ āĻŽāύāϤ āĻĒā§°ে āϜাāύা āφāĻ—ā§° āĻ•āĻĨা ।āφāĻŽাā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤ āĻāĻĻিāύ⧰ āĻ•াā§°āĻŖেāĻ“ āĻ•িāĻŦা āφāĻ›িāϞ āύে āĻŦাā§°ু āϏāϚাঁāĻ•ৈ?

:āĻŽাāύে???āĻ•ি āφāĻ›িāϞ āφāĻŽাā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤ?

āωāϤ্āϤ⧰āϟোāϤ āϝিāĻŽাāύ āĻšāϤাāĻļ āĻš'āϞো āϏিāĻŽাāύেāχ āωāϚāĻĒ āĻ–াāχ āωāĻ িāϞো āĻŽāχ ।

:āĻāĻ•ো āύাāχ ।āύেāĻ­াā§° āĻŽাāχāύ্āĻĄ ।

āĻĄিāĻ™িāϤো āĻ েāĻšা āĻŽাā§°ি āϧ⧰িāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻ•োāύোāĻŽāϤে āϏংāϝāϤ āϕ⧰িāϞো āύিāϜāĻ• ।āĻšāϤাāĻļাāĻ—্ā§°āϏ্āϤ āĻŽোā§° āĻŽুāĻ–āĻ–āύāϤ āĻ…āϏংāĻ–্āϝ āĻĒ্ā§°āĻļ্āύāĻŦোāϧāĻ• āϚিāύে āĻ­ীā§° āϕ⧰িāϞেāĻšি ।āĻ…āϤীāϤ⧰ āĻ•িāĻ›ুāĻŽাāύ āϏ্āύেāĻĒāϚāϤ āĻ­াāĻšিঁ āφāĻšিāϞ āĻŽোā§° āϚāĻ•ুā§° āφāĻ—āϤ ।

āĻ•'āϤ āφ⧰āĻŽ্āĻ­ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ āĻ•াāĻšিāύীāϟো ?āωāĻ­āϤি āĻ—'āϞো āĻŽāχ āĻĻুāĻŦāϛ⧰⧰ āφāĻ—ā§° āϏেāχ āĻŦিāĻļেāώ āĻĻিāύāϟোāϞৈ ,āϏেāχ āĻ­ুāϞāϟোāϞৈ ।

 āϏ্āύেāĻĒāϚāϤ 1:

āĻĒā§°ীāĻ•্āώাāĻšāϞāϟোāϞৈ āĻ–ā§°āϧ⧰āĻ•ৈ āϏোāĻŽাāχ āφāĻšিāĻ›িāϞো āĻŽāχ ।āĻĻেā§°ি āĻšোā§ąা āύাāĻ›িāϞ āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻŦাāĻšিā§°ā§° āĻ•'ā§°িāĻĄā§°āϤ āϚিāύ্āϤাāĻŽāĻ—্āύāĻ­াā§ąে āϘূā§°ি āĻĢুā§°া āĻŽুāĻ–āĻŦিāϞাāĻ•ে āĻŽোāĻ• āφ⧰ু āϚিāύ্āϤাāϤ āĻĒেāϞাāχāĻ›িāϞ ।āύিāϜ⧰ ā§°োāϞāύাāĻŽ্āĻŦাā§°āϟো āĻŦিāϚাā§°ি āĻŦ্āϝāϏ্āϤāĻ­াā§ąে āφāĻ—āĻŦাā§িāĻ›িāϞো āĻŽāχ ।āϞāĻ—ā§° āĻĻুāϟাāĻŽাāύāĻ• āχāϤিāĻŽāϧ্āϝে āĻĻেāĻ–িāĻ›িāϞোā§ąেāχ āĻĒিāϚāϤ āĻŦāĻšি āĻĨāĻ•া ।āĻāĻļ āĻŽাāύ āĻ›াāϤ্ā§°-āĻ›াāϤ্ā§°ীā§°ে āĻ­ā§°ি āφāĻ›িāϞ āĻš'āϞāϟো ।āϚাā§°িāĻ“āĻĢাāϞে āĻāύেāχ āĻāĻŦাā§° āϚāĻ•ু āĻĢুā§°াāχāĻ›িāϞো āĻŽāχ āϏেāχāĻĻিāύাāĻ“ āϏāĻĻা⧟ āϕ⧰াā§° āĻĻā§°ে ।āφ⧰ু āĻāύেāĻ•ৈ⧟ে āĻšāĻ াāϤে āĻŽোā§° āϚāĻ•ু āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞ āϤাāχ⧰ āĻ“āĻĒā§°āϤ ।āĻ•াāĻŖā§° āĻ•াāώেāĻĻি āĻŦাāĻ—ā§°ি āĻ…āĻšা āĻ•েāĻ•োঁā§°া āϚুāϞিāϟাā§°িā§°ে āϤাāχāĻ• āĻ–ুāĻŦ āφ⧰্āĻ•āώāύী⧟ āϞাāĻ—িāĻ›িāϞ ।
āϚāύ্āĻĻ্ā§°ā§° āϏ্āύিāĻ—্āϧāϤাāĻ•ো āϝেāĻŖ āĻŽ্āϞাāύ āĻĒেāϞাāχāĻ›িāϞ āϤাāχ⧰ āϜিāϞিāĻ•া āĻĨāĻ•া āĻŽুāĻ–āĻ–āύে ।āφāϤঁā§°াāχ āφāύিāĻŦ āύোāĻ–োāϜা āĻŽুāĻ–āĻ–āύ āĻŦিā§°āĻ•্āϤিā§°ে āφāϤঁā§°াāχ āφāύিāĻ›িāϞো āĻŽāχ āĻĒā§°ীāĻ•্āώাā§° āĻŦāĻšী āĻšাāϤāϤ āĻĒোā§ąাā§° āĻĒাāĻ›āϤ ।āĻĒā§°ীāĻ•্āώা āĻļেāώ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ āĻāĻĻিāύ ।āφ⧰ু āϤাāχāĻ“ āĻšেā§°াāχ āĻ—ৈāĻ›িāϞ āĻ­ীā§°ā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤ ।

āϏ্āύেāĻĒāϚāϤ 2:

āϏāύ্āϧি⧟াāĻŦেāϞা ā§°āϤāύ⧰ āĻĻোāĻ•াāύāĻ–āύāϤ āφāĻĄ্āĻĄা āĻŽā§°াāϟো āĻāϟা āύিāϤ্āϝ āύৈāĻŽāϤ্āϤিāĻ• āϕ⧰্āĻŽā§° āĻĻā§°ে āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āϏেāχāĻĻিāύাāĻ“ āϤাā§° āĻŦ্āϝāϤিāĻ•্ā§°āĻŽ āύাāĻ›িāϞ ।āϧুāύী⧟া āĻĒাā§°্āϞিāύ āĻŽেāĻŽā§° āĻĻীāϘāϞ āϚুāϞিāϟাā§°িā§° āĻĒā§°া ā§°āĻ•্āϤিāĻŽā§° āύāϤুāύ āĻ—াā§°্āϞāĻĢেāύ্āĻĄāϜāύী⧟ে āϕ⧰া āĻ•াāύ্āĻĄāϞৈāĻ•ে āϏāĻ•āϞো āφāϞোāϚāύা āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ āϏেāχ āφāĻĄ্āĻĄাāĻŦোā§°āϤ ।āĻ•াāώ⧰ āĻŽেāϜāĻ–āύāϤ āĻšাāĻšিঁā§°ে āĻ–āϞāĻ–āϞাāχ āωāĻ িāĻ›িāϞ ।āώো⧜āĻļী āĻ•েāχāĻ—ā§°াāĻ•ীāĻŽাāύ⧰ āĻšাāĻšিঁā§° āĻ–āϞāĻ–āϞāύি ।āϚাāĻ“ঁ āύাāϚাāĻ“ঁāĻ•ৈ āĻšāĻ াāϤে āϚāĻ•ুāϤ āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻšā§Ÿ,āϏেāχ āĻāĻ•েāχ āϚেāĻšেā§°া, āĻāĻ•েāχ āĻšাāĻšিঁ,āĻāĻ•েāχ āϏাāĻ—ā§°ā§° āĻĻā§°ে āĻ—াāĻŽ্āĻ­ীā§°্āϝāϤা,āĻāĻ•েāχ āϏেāχ āĻ•াāĻŖā§° āĻ•াāώ⧰ āϚুāϞিāϟাā§°ি ।
āĻŽোā§° āĻĻৃāώ্āϟি āĻ…āύুāϏ⧰āĻŖ āϕ⧰ি āĻĒ্ā§°ি⧟āĻŽেāχ āĻ•'āϞে āĻĒ্ā§°āĻĨāĻŽে āϤাāχ⧰ āĻ•āĻĨা ।āϤাāχāĻ• āĻĻেāĻ–িāϞে āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą āĻšোā§ąা āϤাā§° āĻŽāύ⧰ āĻ­াā§ąā§° āĻ•āĻĨা ।āϏেāχ āĻĒ্ā§°āĻĨāĻŽāĻŦাā§°ā§° āĻŦাāĻŦে āĻŦুāĻ•ুāĻ–āύāϤ āĻŦিāώ āĻāϟা āĻšোā§ąা āϝেāĻŖ āϞাāĻ—িāϞ ।āĻĄাāĻ•্āϤ⧰ āĻ–ুā§°াā§° āĻ•āĻĨা āĻŽāύāϞৈ āφāĻšিāϞ । āĻŽāύ⧰ āĻ­াā§ąāϟোāĻ• āĻāĻ•াāώ⧰ী⧟া āϕ⧰ি āĻĨ'āϞো ।āϏোāύāĻ•াāϞেāχ āĻŽেāϜāĻ–āύ āĻ–াāϞী āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°িāϞ ।āĻŦুāĻ•ুāĻ–āύāϤ āĻĒ্ā§°āϚāύ্āĻĄ āϧāĻĒ āϧāĻĒāύি āĻāϟা āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą āĻš'āϞ ।

āϏ্āύেāĻĒāϚāϤ 3:
āĻ…āϏুāĻ–āϟো āĻŦাā§ি āφāĻšিāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻ…āύāĻŦā§°āϤে āϚāϟāĻĢāϟāύি āĻāϟা āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻļেāώ āύোāĻšোā§ąা āĻĒā§°ীāĻ•্āώাāĻŦোā§° āφāĻ•ৌ āϚāĻŽু āϚাāĻĒি āφāĻšিāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻ…āύুāĻĒāϏ্āĻĨিāϤ āĻŽāύ āĻāϟাā§°ে āϘূā§°ি āĻĢুā§°িāĻ›িāϞো āĻĒ্ā§°া⧟ ।āĻ…ā§ąāĻļেāώāϤ āωāϤ্āϤ⧰ āĻ“āϞাāχāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° āĻ…āϏুāĻ–ā§° ।āĻŦাā§ি āĻ…āĻšা āϚāϟāĻĢāϟāύিāĻŦোā§°ā§° āĻŽাāϜāϤে āϏেāχ āĻ­ুāϞāϟোāϤ āĻ–োāϜ āĻĨāϞো āĻŽāχ āύāϜāύাāĻ•ৈ ।āĻ•োāύোāĻŦা āĻāϟা āĻĻুā§°্āĻŦāϞ āĻ•্āώāĻŖā§° āϏুāϝোāĻ— āϞৈ āĻŽāύāϟোā§ąে āĻŦিāĻŦেāĻ• āĻ…āϧিāĻ•াā§° āϕ⧰িāϞে āĻŽুāĻšুā§°্āϤāϤে।āφ⧰ু āĻ–āύ্āϤেāĻ•āϤে āĻ…āϘāϟāύāϟো āϘāϟি āĻ—'āϞ ।

āϏ্āύেāĻĒāϚāϤ 4:

āĻšাāχ āĻšেāϞ্āϞ'ā§°ে āφ⧰āĻŽ্āĻ­ āĻšোā§ąা āϏāĻŽ্āĻĒā§°্āĻ•āϟো āĻšāĻ াāϤে āϚāϞিāĻŦ āϧ⧰িāϞে ।āĻŽোā§° āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏুāĻ•āϤাā§° āĻ…āύ্āϤ āύাāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻŦুā§া āφāĻ™ুāϞিā§° āύāĻ–āϟোāϤ āϞাāĻšে āϞাāĻšে āĻŦিāώ āφ⧰āĻŽ্āĻ­ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻāĻŦিāϞাāĻ• āϝেāύ āĻļেāώেāχ āύāĻšā§Ÿ ।āϤাāχ⧰ āĻĒā§°ীāĻ•্āώাā§° āϚিāύ্āϤাāϤ āϟোāĻĒāύি⧟ে āφāύ্āĻĻোāϞāύ āϕ⧰ে āĻŽোā§° ।āϤাāχ⧰ āĻŦিāώ⧟āĻŦিāϞাāĻ• āϞাāĻšে āϞাāĻšে āĻ­াāϞ āϞāĻ—া āĻšৈ āωāĻ ে āĻŽোā§° ।āϤাāχ⧰ āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύ āφāĻŦ্āĻĻাā§°āĻŦোā§°āϤ āĻŽā§°āĻŽā§° āϏāύ্āϧাāύ āϕ⧰ো āĻŽāχ ।āϤাāχ⧰ āĻŽাāύāϤ āĻŽāχ āϝেāύ āĻĒৃāĻĨিā§ąীā§° āϏāĻŦাāϤোāĻ•ৈ āĻ­াāϞ āϞ'ā§°া ।āφ⧰ু āĻāĻ‡ā§Ÿাāχ āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻ­ুāϞ āφāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° ।āĻ…āϞāĻĒ āĻŦে⧟াāĻ“ āĻš'āĻŦ āϞাāĻ—িāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻāĻ‡ā§Ÿা āϝে āĻŽোā§° āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ąেāχ āύāĻš'āϞ ।

āĻ•āĻĨাāϚāĻšāĻ•ী āϤাāχ⧰ āĻ•āĻĨাāĻŦিāϞাāĻ• āύীā§°ā§ąāϤাā§°ে āφāĻ—ুā§°ি āϧ⧰িāĻ›িāϞ āĻ•েāύ্āϟিāύ⧰ āϏেāχ āϏāύ্āϧ্āϝা āĻ•েāχāϟাāϤ,āϜুā§°োāĻĄā§° āĻĒā§°া āĻ—ীāϤাāύāĻ—ā§°ā§° āϏেāχ āĻĒāĻĨāϟোāϤ ।āϏেāĻ‡ā§Ÿাāχ āĻšā§ŸāϤো āϏāϚাঁ āφāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻŽāχ  āĻĻেāĻ–া āύাāĻ›িāϞো āύে āĻŽāχ āϚাāĻŦ āĻ–োāϜা āύাāĻ›িāϞো āĻāĻ‡ā§Ÿা āĻŽāχ āύাāϜাāύিāϞো āϤেāϤি⧟াāĻ“ āφ⧰ু āĻāϤি⧟াāĻ“ ।

āĻŦā§°্āϤāĻŽাāύ āφ⧰ু āϏāϤ্āϝāϤা:

āωāĻĻং āĻĒāĻĨাā§°āĻ–āύāϤ āĻļāϏ্āϝ⧰ āϏāύ্āϧাāύ āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻ•োāύোāĻŦা āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύāĻĻ্ā§°āώ্āϟাā§°āĻšে āĻ•াāĻŽ ।āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āϞাāĻ—িāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোā§° āϏাā§° āĻĒাāĻ“ঁāϤে ।āĻ—āĻŽ āύাāĻĒাāĻ“ঁāϤেāχ āĻŽোā§° āĻĒ্⧰⧟োāϜāύ āĻļেāώ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻŽāχ āĻāϞেāĻšুā§ąা āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞো ।

āĻŦāϤাāĻšāϜাāĻ• āĻāϤি⧟া āφ⧰ু āύাāχ ।āĻļাāύ্āϤ āĻĒুāĻ–ুā§°ীāϟোāϤ āϏ⧰ু āϏ⧰ু āĻĸৌāĻŦোā§° āĻŦাāĻ•ী ā§°ৈāĻ›েāĻ—ৈ ।āĻ‡ā§ŸাāϤ āĻŽোā§° āϕ⧰āĻŖী⧟ āĻāĻ•ো āύাāĻ›িāϞ ।āϏāĻĻা⧟ āϕ⧰াā§° āĻĻā§°ে āϤাāĻ‡ā§Ÿে āĻļেāώ āϕ⧰িāĻ›িāϞ āϝোāĻ—াāϝোāĻ—ā§° āĻļেāώ āĻŽাāϧ্āϝāĻŽāĻ•āύো ।

āωāĻĒāϏংāĻšাā§°:

āĻŽāĻĻā§° āĻ—িāϞাāϚāϟোāϤ āĻļেāώ āĻĸোāĻ•āϟো āĻŦাāĻ•ী ā§°ৈāĻ›িāϞāĻ—ৈ ।āĻŽāĻŦাāχāϞ⧰ āĻĒā§°্āĻĻাāϤ āϏ্āϤāĻŦ্āϧ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°া āϚāĻ•ুāϟোā§ąে āφāύ্āĻĻোāϞāύ āϕ⧰ি āωāĻ িāĻ›িāϞ ।āϏেāĻŽেāĻ•া āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°া āϚāĻ•ুāĻšাāϞāϤ āφ⧰ু āĻĻুāĻ– ,āĻĒāĻļ্āϚাāĻĻāϤাāĻĒ āύাāĻ›িāϞ āφāĻ›িāϞ āϏāϚাঁ, āĻļুāĻĻ্āϧ,āύিāĻ­াঁāϜ āĻ­ā§ąিāώ্āϝāϤ⧰ āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą ।āϧāύ্āϝāĻŦাāĻĻ āϜāύাāĻŦāϞৈ āϤাāϤ āφ⧰ু āĻ•োāύো āύাāĻ›িāϞ āϤেāϤি⧟া āĻŽোā§° āĻŦাāĻšিā§°ে । 

                                  ( āĻļেāώ)

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

āωāύ্āύāϤ āĻĒৃāĻĨিā§ąীā§° āϏংāϜ্āĻžা--āĻ…āύুāĻ­ā§ą

āĻŦোāĻ•াā§°ে āĻ­ā§°ি āĻĨāĻ•া āĻĒāĻĨāĻŦোā§° āϞাāĻšে āϞাāĻšে āĻ­ā§°ি āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞ āφāϞāĻ•াāϤাā§°াā§° āĻĄ্ā§°াāĻŽāĻŦোā§°ে ।āĻļ āĻļ āĻŦিāϘা āĻŽাāϟিā§°ে āϏোāύোā§ąাāϞী āĻšৈ āĻĨāĻ•া āĻļāϏ্āϝ⧰ āĻĒāĻĨাā§°āĻŦোā§° "āĻŦিāĻļেāώ āĻ…ā§°্āĻĨāύৈāϤিāĻ• āϏ্āĻĨাāύāϞৈ(SEZ) "āĻĒā§°িāĻŦā§°্āϤāύ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻŽাāύুāĻšāĻŦোā§° āĻŦ্āϝāϏ্āϤ āĻšৈ āĻĒā§°িāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻŦিāϜ্āĻžাāύে āĻ‡ā§Ÿাā§° āϚ⧰āĻŽāϏীāĻŽাāϤ āωāĻĒāύীāϤ āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ ।
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āĻŽā§°āĻŽ āϚেāύেāĻšāĻŦোā§° āĻĻোāĻ•াāύāϤ āĻŦিāĻ•্ā§°ী āĻšৈāĻ›িāϞ ।āĻāϏাāϜ āĻ…āύাāĻšাā§°ে āĻĨাāĻ•িāĻ“ āϏুāĻ–ী āĻš'āĻŦ āϜāύা āĻŽাāύুāĻšāϟো āĻ•āϤ āϜাāύো āĻšেā§°াāχ āĻ—ৈāĻ›িāϞ ।
āĻšā§Ÿ āφāĻŽি āϏāĻ•āϞোā§ąে āϏāĻĒোāύ āĻĻেāĻ–াā§° āĻĻā§°েāχ āφāĻšিāĻ›িāϞ āωāύ্āύāϤি āϚৌāĻĒাāĻļে ।āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻāχ āωāύ্āύāϤি⧟ে āĻŽাā§°ি āύি⧟া āĻšাāĻšিঁāĻŦ āϜāύা āφāĻĒুāύি ,āĻŽāχāĻŦোā§° āĻ•'āϤ āϝে āĻĨাāĻ•ি āĻ—'āϞো āĻāĻ‡ā§Ÿা āϝে āĻ•াā§°ো āϘূā§°ি āϚোā§ąাā§° āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āύāĻš'āϞ !!āϏāĻŽā§Ÿā§° āĻšাāϤāϤ āĻŦিāĻ•্ā§°ী āĻšোā§ąা āĻ…āύুāĻ­ূāϤিāĻŦোā§°āĻ• āϝে āφ⧰ু āĻ•োāύেāĻ“ āĻŽāύāϤ āύেāĻĒেāϞোā§ąা āĻš'āϞ ।āĻšā§Ÿ āĻāĻ‡ā§Ÿাāχ āωāύ্āύāϤ āĻĒৃāĻĨিā§ąী āφāĻŽি āϏāĻ•āϞোā§ąে āĻŦিāϚ⧰াā§° āĻĻā§°ে !!!

Thursday, 23 May 2013

why should i complain?it`s called life.............

   where should i start?on that day when i first joined school or the day which changed my life?on that time i didn't  know how should i react when i lost my most precious thing....i just thought that , that was just a moment,which would  change eventually..i grow up..i started to realise which i hadn't thought before..i started to like to stay alone..i started to talk about life,about incompleteness of life,about value of love,about everything.......there were few people who really wanted to listen what i wanted to say....but  why should i complain? it's called life.
     from my childhood i always liked to be loved..my mom was my first love..i stared at her always when she told me not to be sorry even though i was wrong..her lap was like best pillow for me..i enjoyed when she secretly kept last bite of snack from her share to me..but slowly i became too arrogant , i hurt her while she forgave me always.i continued to hurt her and she didn't even complain once.though i was sorry for everything i couldn't say sorry to her,as i just wanted her to forget everything that happened due to my mistake..but  again why should i complain? it's called life.

  if someone ask me  if i get one chance to change my past what will i do? it will not take me a moment  to answer..i just want to meet my father once again ..i just want to delete the day when i lost him..i can still remember the story of a poor farmer which he told me every time when i forced him to tell me a story...it was like an impossible bad dream when i heard what happen to him..i just wished  a so called god will helped my father and he will return to me oneday..but i didn't know that god is only for coward..as there is no god..but  again why should i complain? it's called life
     light is faster than anything..but life is not on the list..life is faster enough to heal every wound cause by himself,to forget every pain that happened before. ..it is just shocking that it can make one innocent baby to wanted criminal in its life cycle..on the way of life i also forgot myself..i made friend..they became an important part of my life ..i found myself dependent on them ,though they hurt me in every step,life help me to forget and forgive them,.....but may be everything has limit...it was just surprising when my so called best friend made me feel sick..i couldn't forget that incident..i could not sleep on that night.how could he behaved like that..i couldn't believe it....but  again why should i complain? it's called life


      i just thought that may be someday i will find at least one person who will understand me,..but again why should i complain it's called life.

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

It is a story of one Sunday



                               It is a story of one Sunday
                                                               RANJAN JYOTI HAZARIKA
                                                               B.TECH    ece
It is a story of one Sunday........
On that day ....I was little busy due to my coming examination..
I left my bed at 7 o`clock when my mom came to my room as usual with a cup of tea and broke my dream...It was 17th time  when I could not complete my dream ..Because last 17 day my mom came at same time, break my dream for which I was little curious about this incomplete special dream.............
          By the way I am ......simply....me, a simple daydreamer live in a small town after I was born before 21 years ago. I don’t know whether it was my fate or not that my father lost his job at the same time when I was born. Though he lost his job he organised a big party (?) spending almost 100 bucks to welcome first girl of this family after three generation and after that I have been living with them sharing only pain...
                     I made three friends as growing up..No need to say that i was the poorest among them..They always use branded things whereas I only go to the 2nd hand market for these accessories though I don’t say about these things to them. One with a stylish umbrella always is Rimi, whom I met in the first day of my school life. It`s important to say that though we are poor my father sent me to a private school caring about my study and it is the most expensive gift which I got from my family. Rimi`s father is a top class business man of our small town. Rimi spend most of her time (also money) in a beauty parlour and was always more sensitive about dressing...then if you look properly then you will see a fatty girl always arguing without a topic; she is Meghna. Her father was a wrestler before he got job in income tax depts. I think her aim in life is to buy lots of chips, eating continuously without stopping. Her weight is almost double of me. She is from a Bengali family originally from Calcutta....I first saw her when I was in high school, since then we are friends. Lastly Rashmi, what can I say about her, she is the prettiest girl of our college born with a golden spoon.... she always come in an expensive car. It is a gift from her father at her 18th birthday...though we are not similar at all we became friends...
          Though I am the poorest among them but my marks are somehow good compared to them. It is the most likely part of my life... Almost half a month ago we met for last time because we got study live on that day...We bunked our last English class of our college life and went to library so that we can talk peacefully. We started to discuss about our coming examination.. Suddenly Rashmi shouted with excitement that we should go for a long trip after the examination...But no one had idea where we should go. Rashmi told that we should go to Agra to see the Tajmahal. But Rimi resisted and commented that she had already seen Tajmahal two times. After long discussion it was decided that we would go to see the old temple situated at the top of a mountain in Shimla. Rashmi told that she would arrange all the necessary things for this trip...However the clock of the library indicated that it was time to go and we finished our last meeting before examination unwillingly.....
...........after that 16 days passed with same routine. Wake up at 6, read books up to noon, doing all the homework and sleep at 8.30 due to high rate of kerosene, an unusual boring life. And following the same routine I am in the reading table now.. i am little angry today ..it is only for my poor condition. Though I like to study at night I cannot read at night. Because my father cannot afford cost of expensive electricity also Kerosene .So i have to wake up at 6 always. Anyways may be i become little emotional expressing my situation. However i open my Economics books and trying to concentrate my mind between mode ,mean ,median etc.
          ........................our exams had finished before our expectation. and at last we got our vacation. So we decided that we would go to the temple at the next day.
  .......I go to Rashmi`s home at 7 ‘o clock in the morning on that day. Because we decided that we would start our journey before 8. I wear my best dress which is a gift from my maternal uncle. we rented a car because Rashmi`s father did not allow Rashmi to drive her car up to Shimla and there is only a few bus to Shimla today because today is Sunday. And generally some drivers want to skip long journeys on Sunday. After two hours journey we reached the mountain above which lies our destiny. After this point there is no road for car. so we tell the taxi driver to wait for us until we come back. After almost 35 minutes walk we reach the top point i.e. the temple surrounded by forest. This temple is almost forbidden, because there is a rumour that this temple has a secret room that can lock or open your future. And also the only Priest doesn’t come always. So only a few people come here. Although it is a forbidden temple its natural scenery is amazing. There is a lot of rock statue in the temple wall which indicate that there was some amazing artist in ancient time who drown this amazing statue of life, god etc. we reach the temple almost 11 ‘o clock. The priest is not here till now. we entered inside the temple. There are some statues almost covering every Hindu god. We pray them and enter in the second room. There are lots of flower on that room and there is no door. We stepped backward to explore the other parts. And suddenly Meghna slipped over the flowers and all flowers dropped above her. We help her to stand... and step to back door..And that time Meghna shouted that there is a door behind the flower. We looked at each other and entered the room pushing the hidden door. It was a dark room. There is no way that light can enter here. Rimi switched on her mobile flashlight and we step carefully. Suddenly we hear a sound which is coming behind from us. We look back and see that the door using which we enter the room it is disappeared...we frightened. How will we go back to home? We are may be locked in this room and we will may be never see our family. Rashmi already started t o cry. We all thought that it is the end of our life..However I inspect the room thoroughly and see that there is another door. I told it to them and entered the next room. In this room we see a strange thing. It is a long hall room .and there is almost 50-60 similar door in this room. I saw a long table with a letter...I picked up the letter. From the letter we come to know that there is only one door using which we can go outside. If we enter in wrong room using wrong door we can never go outside and die here. And there was a quiz for us. It said that the most uncommon door will lead us to outside. Already we all lost our confidence .We are frightened. Meghna, Rimi, Rashmi looked at me and requested to save them. I have no other way but to solve this quiz. I noticed every door and try to find the uncommon door .At last I saw a door which was somehow different from others. We have no other option but to enter that room. We entered slowly through that door. We saw again another room which was also a long room. We noticed the room to go outside but can’t find a way. I am started to think that i select a wrong door..All my friends started to cry. There is no one who can save us from this situation. Suddenly a ray of light appears and we saw a bright screen before us. Suddenly a photo of Rimi is appeared and we see her picture with her parent in a hospital. They wore some old cloth...They were happy though they were poor. Then suddenly Rimi`s father got a big order from a Multinational company. It was unexpected for him. Their happiness increased then before. But as time passed her father started to drink and beat her mother. There life started to change. Love and happiness were disappeared from their life. Money occupied all the emotional things. Though all live in the same house but they had hardly talk one time in a week..Lonely ness filled their life.We looked at to Rimi and her crying face. Then Rashmi`s face is appeared in the screen. We saw her childhood life with her mother. Her mother was as beautiful as her. Her mother take care of her so much. Rimi was only 6 years old when her mother divorced her father and married another man and shifted to America. Since then she is very lonely...Rashmi wept loudly after saw her mother again.
        I was still thinking why our life flash back is coming before us....
Then Meghna`s picture is appeared. Her father was a characterless man. He married two wives and had illegal relation with one of his colleague. One day her husband saw them in bad position and suspended him for one year. Though he get back his job but lost his respect. Meghna couldn’t go to school on that year due to her father. Her classmate avoided her always....
At last my picture is appeared. I saw my father happy face when he first brought me from hospitals to home. Though he lost his job but he was busy with me. He ignored his mother and did not meet her boss but spent all the day with me. Gradually we became poor but my fathers care me as much as before.  we used second hand cloth but pure love. We are poor but i saw happiness in my parent`s face. Suddenly my mind filled with happiness and lost my angry mood.......
        ..............Suddenly I feel someone touch my shoulder. My mother is shouting and called father because i didn’t give reply when she called me for breakfast...My father keep his hand at my shoulder and call me...At last I wake up. I was sleeping all this time. I did not know When I reached the old temple from my Economics books...I stand up and hug my parent. They are little surprised....But I didn’t tell them about my dream. I realised why I saw my past life. May be my inner soul tried to save me. At last I realised true value of love than money. I realised that all rich people are not happy and feel guilty for my reasonless anger.........
   I got my special Sunday which help me to face the real life.............now it’s your turn............