tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30697973533522723162024-02-19T14:20:27.537+06:00Life and StoryEnjoy every moment of your life!Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-17502493393214493492020-06-03T18:46:00.004+06:002023-12-08T17:40:56.246+06:00Travel in Dhaka City: Where Life Moves on a Roller Coaster<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">As the <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/07/describe-an-interesting-job-you-had-done/">twilight</a>
sparkles through the <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/12/describe-an-interesting-competition/">magnificent</a> architectural glitz of the city, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></st1:place> <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/14/describe-a-present-you-liked/">unwraps</a>
herself from a <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/15/describe-the-city-you-live-in/">tedious</a> day of work to <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/08/spoken-english-a-personal-interview/">pave</a> way for an <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/08/spoken-english-shop-assistant-and-customer/ ">evening</a> that has <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/10/spoken-english-getting-a-job/ ">loads </a>to
offer. Dhaka- a boring, <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/11/everyday-english-expressions/">unadventurous</a> city of the <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/13/how-to-talk-in-job-interview/ ">seventies </a>is now a total <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/18/ielts-task-2-essay-structures/ ">contrast</a>,
it is the half of all happenings, the city that throbs will all <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/18/us-tourist-visa-interview/ ">possible </a>and
imaginable diversity. <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/18/spoken-english-daily-conversations/ ">Infused </a>by a new blood of <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/19/spoken-english-daily-conversation/ ">globalization </a>the<a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/20/ielts-writing-discussion-essay/ "> cosmopolitan</a>
infrastructure is <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/22/spoken-english-everyday-conversation/">constantly</a> changing. A touch of <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/23/canada-immigration-visa-interview/ ">experimentation</a> can be
<a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/23/hsc-english-grammar-synonym-and-antonym/">perceived </a>in all spheres. The city fabric itself under a manic metamorphosing
process has lost the prosaic, bland colour that once upon a time made
life-absolutely colourless. Be it food, entertainment, shopping or just hanging
about, the people of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></st1:place> have
a massive array of option to choose from. Madu’s canteen is now not just the
only place. Life is multifaceted, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></st1:place> is
hell bent to reap the fun out of life and her spices.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">Start with
eating, the capital has become a big-frying pan sizzling to the newly found
taste buds of the city dwellers. Eat, eat and eat just stuff your stomach to
your hearts content. That is the motto of the eating scenario. Bunking classes
with mischievous looks on their face, young college kids hang around in the
fast food joints. Munching on burgers and sipping sodas is their idea for a
break. The latest Boyzone, Aqua lyrics are their driving force. To keep up with
the demands of the “Tommy-Hilfiger” obsessed generation burger and fast food
joints are springing up. The idle evenings are not spent on the roof
philandering with girl next door. Now it’s cuddling in a fast food joint while
listening to J.J Cale’s sensitive kind. Rock lovers usually hang
about the Rock Café. As Bruce Springsteen sets the ambience with “I am on Fire”
the hips swing in the floors, the tension released through a bit of shakin and
rollin. Dance-mania is on and Boogie-Woogie is a hit with the youngsters.
American Fried Chicken, Southern Fried Chicken, Sously’s, Coopers and hundreds
more caters to the gossiping, flirting young generation. Their identity now
intertwined with a culture, that was once just a part of Archies comics. For a
real hip and trendy ambience try the Hot Hut. Hot and wild-its got the
delicious flavour of Eternity and Poison delicately blended.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">The mobile food
cart of Sajna and Yummy Yummy offer food in a novel perspective.</span><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxflyEUw2XJRJmDIhC7MefY8E_VTqOSCtqTZV7ec00AYXhl9ppVpA7APRzG582vRZzIw8mv3kSO2-_a8ladudwOnA87NyYaYIrkF7OJfL_KRExMhKfca9NjqxinOBNgGJwvSURipB2wu15/s1600/pexels-photo-2029317.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Travel in Dhaka City" border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxflyEUw2XJRJmDIhC7MefY8E_VTqOSCtqTZV7ec00AYXhl9ppVpA7APRzG582vRZzIw8mv3kSO2-_a8ladudwOnA87NyYaYIrkF7OJfL_KRExMhKfca9NjqxinOBNgGJwvSURipB2wu15/s400/pexels-photo-2029317.jpeg" title="Travel in Dhaka City: Where Life Moves on a Roller Coaster" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">Some prefer to
hang about the market places. Life and high heels both can be observed without
offending anyone. Go near fuller road. In the serenity of the university area
pairs sit on the pavement-engrossed in one another, oblivious to the world-love
being the most powerful of all things. Gossiping finds loads of adherents near
the TSC where all topics from Sharon Stone to Sonali Bendre get brewed up with
sips of hot tea. Near Shabag the Boi Para-gives sanctuary to those who claim to
be a bit different from the others. Lenin, Che, Polanski are familiar names and
Kurtas with jute bags hanging from the shoulders are the patented attire.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">The greens of
Ramna echo the resonant voice of a would be poet reciting Robert Frost. The
theatre buffs hang around Baily road. The evenings there are full of activity.
The stages come alive as the actors weave a hypnotic world of cultural
perfection. People sit by the road talking about Eugene O’Neil or <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tennessee</st1:place></st1:state> Williams.
The air is that of sophistication-trying to make its presence solid within so
much mediocrity around. For those who work during the day evenings in </span><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><st1:place style="font-family: calibri; font-size: 16pt;" w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></span></st1:place><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;"> is
a respite from the demands of life. They unwind, relax and let the moments pass
by leisurely.</span><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">Bibliophiles
stroll around the second hand book shops. Who knows they just might stumble
upon Jeffrey Archer or a Frederick Forsyth. Rainbow, Soor Bichitra is the
regular hang about place for the music-lovers. Waiting for the new released
Ritchie Blackmore L.P inspires nostalgic chats that go back to the years of
temple of the king and snake charmer. Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss are no longer met
with questioning eyes. Brand lovers go about the flashy markets that offer
everything from Cravats to Cuff links.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">People with a
weakness of art can have their aesthetic senses invigorated by dipping into a
different world in one of the many art galleries in Dhanmondi .
Those with taste as well as money to spend to go to galleries not only to
appreciate art but to acquire them. <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/10/healthy-breakfast-to-lose-weight/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gourmands</span></a> paradise will be the best name
for the cosmopolitan and one might want to spend the evening trying the Kimchi
or the delectable Spaghetti washed down with a fine bottle of Baron
D’Arignac. Cordon blue food is served in the vast number of restaurants in
Gulshan . If your aim is to having a lovely evening having an
agreeable meal with a glass of good wine then money should not be the
deterrent. Royal Orchid, Ninfas, Lemongrass, Wakana, Young Bin Kawan, Sky Room,
Lazeez, offer variety and class in the eating scenario. A nice evening , a
lovely companion and good food –a potent combination that revs up the system to
go on. After work the health conscious end up pumping iron in the
gyms. This gym-mania is the latest trend that takes up the time of many people.
This is a short of elixir, that freshens the system, releases tension and makes
me ready to face life’s fickleness said Ershad a reputed banker. Health centres
are coming to the scene and along with Van Dame encouraged figures. A bit of
billiard with a few glasses of chilled fosters is some people’s idea of living
the life in </span><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><st1:place style="font-family: calibri; font-size: 16pt;" w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></span></st1:place><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">.
For those who can not operate without a pleasant libation there are the bars.
In the cool darkness, drenched within the melody of Pankaj Udas and an iced whisky
many tend to severe all bonds with reality. The crystal glasses create a
spectrum of illusion as the night gets synthesized with the Tequila charm.</span><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">Those with a
liking for the drink but unable to go to the bars settle for bottles bought
from the Banani area. Meanwhile some just prefer the local stuff.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">As night gets
older, the skin of inhibition falls off the night-clubs roar. As the fog lights
flash on the dance floors couples get wild in ecstasy –Ricky Martin pierces
through the heart as the limbs roll with the bit. Tramps, </span><br />
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</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">Atlantis, the
International Club take life to the peak of fulfillment. Clad in Armani skirts
and Gap t-shirts, young girls with their curvaceous figures chill out. “Youth
passes in the blink of an eye so enjoy it while it lasts” is their motto and
they surely are living up to it. With the clock reaching for the 12
o’clock mark life slows down. Down to the waterline or Sultans of Swing play in
the car stereo as many take long drives through the isolated streets of the
capital. The cool night air<a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/07/the-best-diet-to-lose-belly-fat/"> freshens</a> the lungs. Some just sit around
the corners of silent streets and savour the lucidity of silence.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p>
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<o:p></o:p>
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<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;">The sun shines
again over the capital and announces the beginning of another new day in the
city. Life and her variations roll again and one is reminded of that famous
saying in a different way. “If one is bored with Dhaka, he is bored with life,
cause <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place></st1:place> has
everything that life has to offer.”</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-17237255253538186042020-05-26T19:29:00.005+06:002023-12-08T17:53:17.101+06:00Travel in Dhaka: The Life and Times of Dhaka in My Eyes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj608VuMsCHpGV7c7z2CLBRlftfgZNcDJ-IcPwpIYQpaOVVRvKsJp4txcFCzzPL5eZsaxSrjke-XoKZYDiGsPGWITJlm9GaVVnlNSv7gFtnWywcVoKy1hBZzfYMl0JwaEko4b7WkKTO40tk/s1600/pexels-photo-3954149.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Travel in Dhaka: The Life and Times of Dhaka in My Eyes" border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj608VuMsCHpGV7c7z2CLBRlftfgZNcDJ-IcPwpIYQpaOVVRvKsJp4txcFCzzPL5eZsaxSrjke-XoKZYDiGsPGWITJlm9GaVVnlNSv7gFtnWywcVoKy1hBZzfYMl0JwaEko4b7WkKTO40tk/s320/pexels-photo-3954149.jpeg" title="Travel in Dhaka" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">There is a short anecdote about
Jug Suraiya, the renowned columnist, which I am fond of retelling.A fellow
guest at a party in <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/11/19/how-to-avoid-negative-thoughts/">Greenwich</a> Village told Jug Suraiya that when he visited <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:place></st1:city>, Satyajit Roy
showed him around the city. “I bet I know your <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:place></st1:city> better than you do” he said. “No,” Suraiya
replied. “You know <st1:city w:st="on">Roy</st1:city>’s <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/11/16/present-headache-of-weddings/">Calcutta</a></st1:place></st1:city> not mine.” So it is with <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>. Anybody who has stayed here or even visited the
city has his own pleasures and pains, <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/11/08/where-angels-guard-the-sleeping/">memories</a> and anecdotes. Though I was born
in <st1:city w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:city>, my first conscious memory is that
of <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>. In <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>
I have been moving from houses in Madan Mohon Basak road, to Azimpur,
to <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/11/03/ssc-english-suggestion-all-board-2024/">Dhanmondi </a>and now in Uttara. All these movements have coincided with
distinctive eras in the history and development of the city. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">In the fifties and sixties I have stayed
in Madan Mohon Basak road and then Azimpur, which were
at that time the newly developed areas, and then in the seventies and
eighties in Dhanmondi which has now <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/31/what-has-the-world-come-to/">become </a>replete with offices and
multi-storied apartments, making it too crowded for my tastes. <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/30/ielts-speaking-practice-test-2024/">Uttara</a> is now for
me a place with urban amenities and with the quiet of the suburbs. The
secret of <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/27/university-admission-english-suggestion-2024/">karate</a> is to turn your adversary's strength to your advantage.
Similarly to survive in <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>, the secret is
to make every adversity, every <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/23/ielts-speaking-topics-with-answers-2024/">misfortune, </a>and every misery work to your
benefit. At least that is what I have been trying to do in my <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/23/ielts-speaking-topics-with-answers-2024/">Odyssey</a> through
the city. Perhaps no other place exercises quite the same kind of lure,
composed of about equal parts of nostalgia and anger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
In the <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/17/best-high-protein-breakfast/">various </a>decades and the various areas I have stayed in the
<a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/10/healthy-breakfast-to-lose-weight/">development</a> of the city I have seen the first paving of roads as <a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/07/the-best-diet-to-lose-belly-fat/">Madan </a>Mohon
Basak road transformed from a bed of brick chips to a broad<a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/05/10-best-high-protein-low-fat-foods/"> swathe</a> of asphalt,
along with others in that area and elsewhere north of the railway tracks. Speaking
of the railways , the railway canteen of Sorabjee's at the Phulbaria
railway station was a good place for dining out, as were the ‘cabins’ of Sadarghat,
where cutlets-prawn or chicken-were a prime attraction. Then came the Chinese restaurants,
first Cafe <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">China</st1:place></st1:country-region>
and then Chu Chin Chow. This ‘Chinese’ revolution has brought about by now the
highly popular concept of eating out in a Chinese restaurant. The Gulistan
building housed the Chu Chin Chow, and Gulistan cinema hall itself, which
was in the fifties the largest and the first and only air-conditioned cinema
hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
One of our <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/24/university-admission-test-vocabulary-du-cu-iba-ju-brac-nsu-iub-aiub-ku-ru/">principal</a> recreations in our younger days was to loiter around in
that novel market place, the New Market, the first example of a shopping
mall in our country. In the evenings a <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/30/ielts-speaking-cue-cards-advertisement/ ">saunter</a> around the New Market, mostly to
ogle at women and <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/02/28/ielts-listening-tips-and-tricks/">sometimes</a> to browse in book shops. And then an hour or more
of chatting at a tea shop. The <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/04/the-best-ielts-reading-tips-and-tricks/">chatting</a> is one institution, present also in the
neighbouring metropolis of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:place></st1:city>,
which is most importantly an <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/11/essential-grammar-for-ielts-writing/">instrument</a> of cathartic release. All the pent up
emotions that the average Dhaka dweller builds up in the course of his
daily Odyssey, careering between the Scylla of <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/04/05/ten-best-tourist-places-in-bangladesh/">chronic shortages</a> and the Charybdis
of chaos rampant, while clinging on to an overcrowded minibus, are poured out
in the Homeric epic of the chatting. The daily <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/25/right-form-of-verbs-exercises-with-answer/">chatting</a> acts as an emotional
armour which protest the participant against the slings and arrows of
<a href="https://englishrajib.com/2023/10/03/10-best-low-calorie-snacks-for-weight-loss/">outrageous</a> urban life. The range of chatting is as vast the city and as small
as the <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/06/15/english-courses-online-speaking-family/">closed circle</a> of cronies. From street corners and the tea-stalls
there, to the private clubs such as the Dhaka club, and in between the two
<a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/09/conversation-about-a-language-course/ ">extremes</a> are the tea shops in the markets and the educational institutions,
these are the locales of the Dhaka citizen for his marathon talkfests.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
Festivals such as the Eid, the Pujas, Christmas, and also Bengali New Year
and fairs of all types such as Ekushe Boi Mela, and Export Fair, are
occasions for us to indulge in an orgy of festive activity. All our
bottled-up <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/03/28/hsc-english-flow-chartdescribing-graph-and-chart/ ">emotions </a>and sentiments are let loose and we undertake recreational
parades around the town and on the fairgrounds. The simple reason is that
there are now precious few places to wander around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
The only park worth the name, Suhrawardy Uddyan, is like <st1:state w:st="on">New
York</st1:state>’s <st1:place w:st="on">Central Park</st1:place>, quite forbidding
at night, and not quite enjoyable in the daytime. The same goes for the
zoo and the botanical gardens. The minuscule <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Shisu</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Park</st1:placetype></st1:place>
is always overcrowded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /><a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/04/08/english-is-spoken-talking-about-eating/">Cultural</a> events in the city are of infrequent occurrence. The most regular
amongst these are the theatrical <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/04/12/hsc-english-2nd-paper-report-writing/">performances</a>, while public musical or dance
performances are rare and often relate to events like Bangla New Year, or Boi Mela
or visits from artistes abroad. These days cable <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/04/13/hsc-english-2nd-paper-composition-suggestion/">television</a> has literally
opened a window on the world but we are at the same time <a href="https://englishrajib.com/index.php/2021/04/14/completing-story-for-hsc-ssc-jsc-examination/ ">swamped </a>by the
invasions of other cultures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
The city therefore seems to be all past and no future, and so capable of
inducing a virulent attack of nostalgia. Random, haphazard, raucous the city has
lived through wars and riots, epidemics and floods. But <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>,
as many of us have discovered, is a movable chatting. In our homes, in the
clubs, in tea shops, and on the streets, <st1:place w:st="on">Dhaka</st1:place>
is everyone's childhood, measles mumps and all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-63897458348347936582019-07-06T20:23:00.000+06:002020-05-16T11:30:12.602+06:00(Not) a Love Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtDDpuevbkL49glIpnNVmPg8R23ZCr4EQ82XF50z16OCJNVXfFtYsJQlIhHXTHLh3P6Uy_mQOf7-s7wAj0goAaQJEaDE2i39GiFRVc2kuEq0PLyM_AA8-friRytdevI9w2hWYKq_qJZ3R/s1600/anna.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="(Not) a Love Story" border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtDDpuevbkL49glIpnNVmPg8R23ZCr4EQ82XF50z16OCJNVXfFtYsJQlIhHXTHLh3P6Uy_mQOf7-s7wAj0goAaQJEaDE2i39GiFRVc2kuEq0PLyM_AA8-friRytdevI9w2hWYKq_qJZ3R/s400/anna.jpeg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am nervous
as I dress: I am seeing him again after all these intervening years. I thought
I had successfully blotted out that whole painful episode of my life. I still
remember our final parting. He was charming as usual, wanting to say how much I
had enriched his life, but that, all things had to come to a natural
conclusion. I could only nod numbly and found just enough voice to tell him
how, on the contrary, he had left me feeling…impoverished, depleted. In my heart
I promised never to cross his path again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And yet here
I am, hurrying to meet him. The moment I see his suave figure, old sensations come
rushing back, the same sense of panic, the palpitations. I want to turn back
and flee. But he moves forward and, as always, takes my hand and brings it to
his lips, as elegant European social courtesy demands. You haven’t changed a
bit, he assured me as he leads me into the room. I allow him to push me gently
into the comfortable chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Is that
Vivaldi in the back ground that I hear as he begins to lean over me. Suddenly I
relax. There is no point fighting the inevitable. I was fated; I sigh as I
slowly open my mouth and allow my Dentist to commence his initial probing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, I told
you, didn’t I? Anyway, here I am, back in the clutches of one of the finest,
most expensive , and most charming dentist in Rome. My husband disagrees in
part to this description. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He agrees
vigorously that my dentist is certainly one of the most expensive dental
surgeons in town, and says that for the kind of money he charges he better be
fine at his work too. I am content that he is one of the most charming dentists
I have ever allowed to get fresh with my mouth, definitely the only one who
kisses my hands at the beginning and end of each session. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
That robber does this to every lady patient, and each time the man kisses your
hands you kiss your money goodbye, my husband says darkly. Oh! Please! What
would he know about dentists, this husband of mine who has never had a cavity
in his life! There should be a law against people like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I happen to
be a woman who hides a history of failed relationships with dentists and
dentistry behind her flashy smile, because I loathe going to dentists, (unlike
others). Or, as someone once said wisely, ‘You see I am not like others, I hate
pain.’ Then, I found this magician of a dentist who uses a drill as gently and
subtly as an artist uses a brush, or as my hubby adds ‘as a pick-pocket removes
your wallet.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At any rate,
only my dentist can make a woman, lying with her mouth gaping like a freshly
caught carp, feel like a fragile Camille languishing in the sofa. Such a
sensitive man! No matter that I have a tube bubbling away my saliva and that my
eyes are squinted at all times trying to ccheck whatever the hell is going on
inside my Novocain numbed mouth, he treats me like the most ravishing woman
getting her eyebrows plucked in a Beauty Salon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Am I hurting
you?’ he asks ever so gently. Of course he is not. ‘Lo,’ I respond through the
drool. ‘A bit to the right,’ he suggests tenderly and I obediently turn my head
and catch sight of my madly grinning gummy profile in a mirror. I scream in
horror! My chivalrous dentist is beside himself with grief at causing me agony.
‘Lo lo’, I struggle to protest that I look like a hideous skull. Later, as I
sit up and try to locate my dead tongue and smile through my bloated lips, my
dentist has already bowed over my sweaty hands murmuring Bellissima Signora.
Till the next time.’ Sigh! You see, you see!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Ten years
ago, after a protracted six-month treatment, I had come out of my dentist’s
office with a new lease of life, a free woman. I was also a walking showcase
for all his dental skills: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had every
third tooth root-canalled, bridged, treated, excavated, pulled out, restored, gold-mined
or porcelain capped. I thought that was the last I would see of the inside of a
dental studio, until that first nagging ache reminded me that we smile on
borrowed time and that once you let a dentist near you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he gets his teeth into you. It’s for life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, I have
just returned from my visit and now that the minor matter of a loose filling
has been sorted out, I think I’ll break it up with my Dentist. It was an
unhealthy relationship. I mean, now that my teeth are healthy, who needs him?
OUCH!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Oopth! Ith <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>thith a looth tooth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-84893072776932229102019-07-03T21:51:00.000+06:002020-05-16T11:30:44.282+06:00Rip Van Winkle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KA2a8WGgKq7khkI-GHeM_TjEjzQIBga4vysLhM0SPtrBEHZXzClKgyOhcNFmHcD1Iux5wEP04hWdCcdccZgOZg_wFW4rROeL4kDvRN9EG6Eumg6snN2pE9-Y_YusCKgupfbWtb5ReGag/s1600/pexels-photo-723023.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rip Van Winkle" border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KA2a8WGgKq7khkI-GHeM_TjEjzQIBga4vysLhM0SPtrBEHZXzClKgyOhcNFmHcD1Iux5wEP04hWdCcdccZgOZg_wFW4rROeL4kDvRN9EG6Eumg6snN2pE9-Y_YusCKgupfbWtb5ReGag/s320/pexels-photo-723023.jpeg" title="" width="264" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">His
grandfather had moved with the capital from the pre-partition days where, five
decades later he was born. He grew up in a family that believed in traditional
Bengali values from both parts of Bengal. His career later demanded a change of
capitals. But the desire to visit his roots remained with him. In fact it grew
stronger with the years.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Now
when his work had brought him to Bangladesh he was overjoyed. This
trip would be a culmination of all that he had heard and learned about it. For
the next four days he would live his dreams. He would imbibe the very essence
of Bangladesh first hand and carry it back for his eager parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What
he hadn't bargained for was the looks-the peculiar, furtive glances that
he received from all those around him the minute he opened his mouth. The
liftman and the bellboy grinned at his obvious idiosyncrasy. The receptionist
gave him a once over and did a quick mental assessment –must be one of
"those" and continued with his job. Not one word of
that dialect would part from his lips. Their unspoken words questioned the
level of his sanity-what could have gone wrong with him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This
perplexed him more. All his life he has heard his parents speak it. In fact
they had two different sets of dialects at home- one that everybody spoke and
the other reserved for their parents. Nobody even attempted to infringe on
their domain. It was a language that belonged to ”the previous
generation". But their frequent reminiscence and strong urge to hold on to
that tradition had left its mark on this young impressionable mind. Unknown to
him he had picked up the nuances till one day he could speak it fluently.
Unknown to him too he had quietly but surely slipped into a time warp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWzhDJ1Tee9AhU1ej2Ib0ECUnmkr7E_vdIVcJ5B2fcDaJNy1WWzFjDkKvx3UsZDLGgNwIfrXkhVV5LutUpSti4LVvWJVB5WHU9h0W3agpQaM7lt-qku2F3QMCv5NaSigfEumDwmpmMHM/s1600/food-salad-dinner-eating.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
things were not working out as planned. The wide roads, the swanky cars and the
bright neon lights were contrary to what he had in mind. And the rows of
concrete and certainly the language had forced him to think otherwise. The
first food joints and innumerable Thai and Chinese restaurants also contributed
to it. He had thought and brushed aside at the airport came back carefully to
him. Bangladesh had changed, evolving with the times to become another
metropolis of the world. He needed to grow up and fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Next
day over lunch the rest of his dreams were shattered. An incongruous plastic
box bearing the name of a Thai restaurant was offered to him. "It will be
a working lunch"-he remembered having said that but why Thai food that he
could also have back home. But the exigencies of work pushed aside all thoughts
of mouthwatering Bengali delicacies that he desired so
much-streaming rice hilsa in mustard sauce the succulent prawns, that he had
heard were better this side of Bengal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Things
were going wrong horribly. Attitudes change; habits also die a death
but monuments? They stand as sentinels guarding the progress of time. Sadarghat
seemed a safe bet. It couldn’t have changed much- a few launches perhaps. And
the "river"-no, it couldn’t have changed course! But the events of
the past few days made him cautious- he no longer ruled out the slimmest of
possibilities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RlO1UXMSfb4Son49IgWcEwHalYrJ5PPA_P-wEzpV9J_RobfUIHua_VPFjduFi7GUYb_FYB5PqUsN1mv4bmfbNoxLAcRrndG-txXNyIV4Zx_yXx7kdXIcjvM8ogUCqtFiTSp0340xPVQ/s1600/pexels-photo-1578445.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RlO1UXMSfb4Son49IgWcEwHalYrJ5PPA_P-wEzpV9J_RobfUIHua_VPFjduFi7GUYb_FYB5PqUsN1mv4bmfbNoxLAcRrndG-txXNyIV4Zx_yXx7kdXIcjvM8ogUCqtFiTSp0340xPVQ/s320/pexels-photo-1578445.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RlO1UXMSfb4Son49IgWcEwHalYrJ5PPA_P-wEzpV9J_RobfUIHua_VPFjduFi7GUYb_FYB5PqUsN1mv4bmfbNoxLAcRrndG-txXNyIV4Zx_yXx7kdXIcjvM8ogUCqtFiTSp0340xPVQ/s1600/pexels-photo-1578445.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_3" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" style="height: 159.75pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 240pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
few phaetons that piled on the road pleased him. At least there was something
that he could relate to. But he had not bargained for the chaotic traffic of
old Dhaka. And the crowd was maddening. After a hurried look he went back to
the safety of the car. The countless launches waiting to set sail brought home
the truth-he couldn’t place a finger anything in Dhaka. Everything was just
beyond his reasoning. But he had only wanted to take back memories with
him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
faint fish smell that emanated from the hilsa in his suitcase reassured him. He
had salvaged some of his dreams after all. And what better way to celebrate
this. Sweet memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-58489489661421447762019-06-26T18:06:00.000+06:002019-06-26T18:06:11.513+06:00The unlikely Master-Mashai <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When William
Radice, in 1972, went to learn Bangla at SOAS, Tarapada Mukherjee, teacher of
Bangla at the department of the languages and cultures of South Asia, on his
arrival at the school after holidays spent in India, jokingly asked Radice why
he was interested in learning Bangla when there were plenty of people in the
world who could speak Bangla well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Radice said
he wanted to translate the Bangla literature into English. And he translated a
number of pieces of the Bangla literature – Rabindranath Tagore, Michael
Madhusudan Dutt and Sakuntala – into English. Being a poet himself, he wrote
the libretto for a chamber opera, snatched by the Gods, based on Tagore’s
‘Debatar Gras’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But the most
notable of his achievements is his effort in continuing the study of Bangla and
its literature at London University, especially after the death of Tarapada
Mukherjee in 1990. After the death of Tarapada, who held a chair for Bangla,
SOAS planned to get rid of Bangla teaching and the professorship was
discontinued. Bangla now continues to be taught with a lectureship. Given to
William Radice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Both Oxford
and Cambridge got rid of chairs for Bangla long ago. The only Oxford PhD in the
Bangla literature in about decades is William Radice, who did his doctor of
philosophy on Michael Madhusudan Dutt in 1987 under historian Tapan
Raichaudhuri in the South Asisan studies department. Now the School of Oriental
and African Studies in the only institution in England with a chair for Bangla.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘I struggled
for 14 years for Bangla at London University and now I have an assistant. I am
hopeful of its studies in Europe. I have now six research students taking <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>courses in Bangla at SOAS,’ he said, sitting
in the lounge of a hotel at Baridhara towards the end of the first week of
March, in his fluent Bangla with less aspiration that what is required for the
initial sound of the word, cbbatra, for ‘students,’ with a tinge of English
intonation. The students are from countries such as Portugal, Slovenia or even
India.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chittagong
University Bangla professor Moniruzzaman, a friend <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of Radice’s who failed to attend the lecture
Radice gave at the Bangla Academy the day before, sitting by, shook his head
and explained Radice’s struggle for the study of Bangla at SOAS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Radice has
now Hanne-Ruth Thompson, known as Hanna Thompson, as his assistant teaching at
SOAS. She had a book, Essential Everyday Bengali, published by the Bangla Academy
in Dhaka in 1999.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On a hopeful
note, he said SOAS evening classes for Bangla have 40 students. Who are not
required to pass any examinations. But they attend the classes only to learn
how to speak, read and write Bangla. Unlike the research students, the evening
class people have different reasons to learn the language. Abu Musa Mohammad
Arif Billah, a teacher of Persian at Dhaka University, now doing his PhD at
SOAS on the influence of the Persian literature on Shah Muhammad Sagir and
Alaol, two mediaeval Bangla poets and teaching Bangla in the evening classes,
said many of the English speakers came to learn Bangla as they are in love with
or have planned to get married to Bangla speakers. Arif, sitting at the table,
said some of the students learn Bangla as they wanted to work with borough
councils working with Bangla-speakers; some of them work with aid groups and
some of them are general practitioners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">SOAS will be
offering course in Bangla, along with other languages, in its new School of
Languages, ‘of the wider world, not just French or German, but also the African
languages or Bangla from the next year,’ Radice said, expecting the number of
students for Bangla to keep growing. Arif Billah said it would just be like the
Institute of Modern Languages at Dhaka University. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Radice said he would try to take classes in
the evening so that a large number of working people could take the courses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Radice thinks
a growing number of participants in the Bengal studies programme of the
European Conference on Modern South Asisan Studies from 14 in the past session
to 27 this time is a pointer to an increased interest in the Bangla Language
and literature outside South Asia. But even then, he said, he could count on
one hand the chairs for Bangla in the educational institutions in Europe. But
Bangla is taught at many universities having no chair. ‘There is a chair for
Bangla in the whole of France, at the Institute National des Langues et
Civilisations Orientales (the national institute of oriental languages and
cultures),’ Radice counted on the fingers. There are two women in Czech
Republic teaching Bangla. He said Prague is a linguistic stronghold for Bangla,
‘probably because of folk songs,’ as explained Moniruzzaman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘In the whole
of America, there is only one chair, at Chicago University, given to Clinton B
Seely. There were two chairs, but one was closed after the death of Edward
Dimok. Farida Majid teaches at Columbia University; but there is no chair for
Bangla as such.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In Germany,
there is Hans Harder who teaches at Halle; there was Alokranjan Das Gupta at
the oriental studies department at the University of Heidelberg; now the wife
of Deutsche Welle’s Bangla section chief teaches Bangla, but there is no chair
for the language.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
universities across the world, Radice said, expanded their areas of interest
and many universities opened departments and chairs for Hindi and Urdu, two
dominant languages of South Asia of the time. Bangla was no state language at
the time and when now Bangla has attained the status of a state language and
people around the world are interested in learning it, the universities
worldwide have been facing resource constraints.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Radice talked
with the Bangla Academy, the cultural affairs ministry and few other organizations
during the tenure of the first caretaker government in 1991 to fund or
subsidise chair in London; but the matter could not get rolling because of the
unwillingness of the agencies he talked with. He said he did not expect the
government to subsidise chair for Bangla in London or in other places as the
Bangladesh government had other priorities. But he said the government would
need to do this if it wanted the keep the studies of the language and
literature going among the speakers of other languages.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Students in
England can take courses in Bangla in GCSE, O-Levels and A-Levels. There are
people in the educational institutions who can set the questions; but there is
no moderator who can evaluate the standards. Radice thought there should be someone
at the top for such jobs. And for this there should be chairs for Bangla in the
countries where educational institutions offer courses in Bangla.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The teaching
of Bangla at SOAS has not faltered for lack of study materials. Radice has his
book, Teach Yourself Bengali, published by Hodder Headline in London in 1994,
which the teachers follow in Bangla classes. Arif Billah said all the people
like him supplement the method of Radice in teaching. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hanna
Thompson, who ‘speaks Bangla more in the style of Bangladeshis’ unlike Radice
who thinks his speech resembles more the West Bengal style, has been working
towards a definitive grammar of the Bangla language based on a practical study.
The SOAS web page says she has moved away from the high form of Bangla, sadhu
bhasha, and included examples from the modern spoken form. And more
importantly, her work will include the area of compound verbs which Radice said
have not been adequately dealt with in any existing grammars or dictionaries.
In an article in the February 2 issue of Desh, published from Kolkata, Thompson
said no knowledge of Sanskrit might be her strength in writing a grammar of the
language as she might look at it from a neutral standpoint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But there is
dearth of dictionaries, especially English-Bangla, for learners who speak other
languages. Any foreigner willing to write Bangla needs a good English-Bangla
dictionary. But most dictionaries, published from Bangladesh and West Bengal,
give only definitions of entries, rather than giving specific synonyms of the
word. Radice said English-Bangla dictionaries define, for an example, the word
‘horse’ as ‘a quadruped animal,’ which might be enough for one to understand
the word, but all such people need is the Bangla word for ‘horse,’ ‘ghora,’ or
‘ashwa’ or something else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Much earlier,
the Oxford University Press in Britain wanted to bring out a concise dictionary
in its much routed format, in two sections – Bangla-English and English-Bangla.
There had been some communications between the Oxford University Press and the
Bangla Academy. But initiatives fell through as the Oxford University Press in
India said it would bring out such a dictionary and it was not willing to work
with the Bangla Academy. Many years passed by and, unfortunately, the Indian
dictionary did not come out. Radice said back in London, he would ask if the
press was still willing and he would ask the academy if it was ready for such a
job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-12635561838454568992019-06-19T09:13:00.000+06:002020-05-16T11:36:21.157+06:00Creator of Peter Rabbit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvCgAP-hBxhaRz9H0k6oyEyifHntBxAwgKT86yUX6O_pe96HaLQa0LLx2fJb4KzfppwdxqlNKnhTNa289t80ALZifjBdm8zUeBCqx0PGPcO0_CpgMiEmcyow826SH_2MsoZcTmI1q8cNS/s1600/vavu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Creator of Peter Rabbit" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1567" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvCgAP-hBxhaRz9H0k6oyEyifHntBxAwgKT86yUX6O_pe96HaLQa0LLx2fJb4KzfppwdxqlNKnhTNa289t80ALZifjBdm8zUeBCqx0PGPcO0_CpgMiEmcyow826SH_2MsoZcTmI1q8cNS/s400/vavu.jpg" title="" width="391" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Perhaps you have read some of the stories Beatrix Potter wrote for
children. She lived in a time when most little girls her age did not go to
school. Those lucky girls who could go to school, learnt things and made
friends not possible outside school. Beatrix Potter’s father and mother thought
differently. So Beatrix Potter stayed at home and had no school friends. Her
childhood was a very lonesome one and she grew to be a thoughtful child. Her
only close friend was her brother. Without attending school she managed to
learn a great deal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When Beatrix’s brother went away to school, she was left alone with a lot
of time to be by herself. She found a way to amuse herself by writing stories.
And sometimes she would make sketches, paintings and drawings to go with her
stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Beatrix’s favourite season was summer. This was because her brother would
come back from school during summer. And Beatrix Potter and her family would visit
the countryside for a holiday. All summer long, Beatrix had someone to play
with – her brother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Beatrix and her brother loved the outdoors. They were deeply interested
in Nature. They would spend hours and hours outside, happily watching animals
play, deeply engrossed over plants and animals. They would watch frogs in a
lake. They would stop to see a wood louse making a house. They loved observing
the ways of animals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On one particular summer, Beatrix and her brother began a collection of
plants and animals which they had to hide from their mother because they knew
that she would be horrified, disgusted and petrified at the sight of crawling
bugs and beetles, and wriggling snakes in her house. She would turn out the
whole collection of animals and plants at once and also prevent them from
spending their time outdoors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Throughout the summer, brother and sister painted pictures of rabbits and
crows, farms and fields, flowers and furrows. Most of the time, Beatrix would
try to paint the animals and plants exactly the way they actually looked in
real life. But at times, she would paint a mouse wearing a hat or a rabbit with
a basket, just as in her stories. But soon the summer was over, Beatrix’s
family returned to their house and Beatrix’s brother was back at school. But
this time, Beatrix was no longer as lonely as she had once been. She had a new
friend – a rabbit called Peter whom she had found in the countryside. Beatrix’s
mother did not approve of Peter Rabbit, and informed Beatrix that she did not like
Peter Rabbit, and wanted him out of the house. But Beatrix managed to find ways
to take her pet rabbit to her room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Beatrix grew up into a quiet young lady, knowing a good deal about plants
and animals. And she became a good artist. Her father and mother did not like
Beatrix to work. She began to think of an idea. She wanted the drawings to be
compiled into a book then, scientists would be able to look at them. But her
father and mother did not think that it was a good idea. Fortunately for
Beatrix, she had an uncle who did think that it would be a good idea. He sensed
talent in Beatrix, and took her to visit some scientists with whom he was
acquainted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Unluckily, these scientists were not good people. They made dreadful
comments like, “She’s too young”, “She hasn’t been to school” and “She’s only a
girl!” Beatrix’s uncle was very annoyed with the scientists for disheartening
Beatrix.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“They are silly,” he remarked angrily to Beatrix. “You know as much as
they do. Your drawings are better than theirs.” Her uncle asked Beatrix to
write about a particular type of plant which he read out before a meeting of
scientists. Beatrix had a real flair for science.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Many of Beatrix’s friends had children with whom she often played. One of
them was a little boy, Noel. When Noel became ill, Beatrix started to write
letters to him. Most of the time, Beatrix would write to him about the things
that she and Peter Rabbit did. But when Noel was sick for long time, Beatrix
would make up stories and send those to him. Noel loved the stories. He showed
the story-letters to all his little friends. Everybody loved the story of Peter
Rabbit. And so Beatrix decided that she would have the stories made into a
book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Peter Rabbit soon became one of the best-loved children’s story-books of
all time. If you read the book, you can tell the original drawings were done by
a person who knew all about animals. May be you also can tell they were done by
someone who learned to love little animals because they were her only friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-73217104681135939222019-05-18T10:34:00.000+06:002020-05-16T11:50:32.695+06:00How to Overcome Sufferings in Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBa2NnXCZRcW36PErOeVGyNIkSFO5fPbkR-ItGQ-wjPZtfXdYUMEnS-0cN1M6iMUhLGRUW_R4llstBopITuM9wj8CgOjp3xdZ5nUFGE909_M65EKo60w2C85z0jlG7kH3eTk9R6K_FTwx_/s1600/woman-570883_960_720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="How to Overcome Sufferings in Life" border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="400" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBa2NnXCZRcW36PErOeVGyNIkSFO5fPbkR-ItGQ-wjPZtfXdYUMEnS-0cN1M6iMUhLGRUW_R4llstBopITuM9wj8CgOjp3xdZ5nUFGE909_M65EKo60w2C85z0jlG7kH3eTk9R6K_FTwx_/s320/woman-570883_960_720.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">There are
five stages to overcome sufferings in life. The first stage of the
five stages is denial. At first man denies the fact that the person has moved
away from his or her life. In case of failure, people deny the fact of the
whole failure. In other words, in most cases people can not take this fact that
they failed.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This denial
is not only in the face but also in the mind, he wants to believe it. Although
he understands that the distance is being created, he wishes to believe with
passion, this distance is temporary, one day all will be alright. Although he
fails to understand, he wants to think forcibly that this failure is temporary
and it will be all right soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In this stage
people can understand the denial and there is no profit to deny. The incident
is really happening. He really failed in this particular matter. He's lost the
man. At this moment he becomes very angry. That step has been called Anger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At this time
people feel angry at the person leaving him, feeling angry. This anger comes
from rigorous behaviour, arguments, hitting tendency. The other side is either
severely hit or completely ignored. Whenever there is a problem in the failure
of some work, most people are angry at the work that comes in the rage. Many
people are angry with those people who work with them to do his job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Since the
work had ended and the results did not come well, so there is no special gain
by rigors. And when the work is done, do you blame if the chance comes back? So
this phase of rage ends one day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">One day when
people see that their anger is not working. Nobody is able to see the
undercurrent of their rage, and then it comes in bargaining tendency. It's
called bargaining stage. People at this stage want to negotiate with the other
side, but with some concessions, the other side wants to come back. If there is
a temporary solution, after few days he gets annoyed with the deductions given
by him, and he seems to have deceived him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The
feeling of being lost is naturally quite deep in the mind of the lost people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At one stage,
the man gives up. Depression comes at this stage. Depressed people understand
only what is depression. Not only about the relationship that is being
discussed this time but also people are indifferent to many more. He can not
find any meaning in his life and his work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">During the
step each person has different types of complexities. Someone has less, some
has more. But the fourth step or depression that lasts most in the lives of
people. If you get out of it, you can get out of this flowchart. Those who can
not, we find themselves committing suicide because of failure in love or
in any work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This step is
called depression or sadness which is long lasting even though it is
possible to overcome from this situation with his own efforts and with the help
of his closed one. However, many people go to chronic depression. If there is
no expert help on time, the person will be subjected to intense deliberations
at any time. That is why we have to learn how to overcome pain and
suffering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Fifth, when
the last step of the depression is over, people accept at one point. He accepts
that people can go away from life and the sooner they can cope the better. He
admits that failure will come and he will accept this failure as quickly as
possible and learn from it as much as he can to become successful. This step is
called Acceptance. This accusation comes to this stage and does not have much
trouble as before, but if you remember or remind me a little bit!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Anyway, to
overcome any difficulty, agony, loss and trouble people have to undergo these
five steps. It's a sort of process. The negativity in you is shivering. If
there is a step left then there is a possibility of losing the balance. After
going through all the steps, we see the golden period.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-5322683921762266612019-05-15T22:15:00.000+06:002020-05-16T12:01:34.181+06:00 Life and Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Teacher’s
Lunch</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpzmNI22VJVgkeuGBqigZyKANgzYhwOTYw73zJfyF0wrp5qhZ5o4ZHgxcmBnP8Tzm5z0cZJpzKWutTfdXaXyNTkQnK2bfnC9lWYffR2O9aEpv-sdONUt6dqY6aDuxdmla2_BeQeWj-gN8/s1600/lunch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt=" Life and Story" border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpzmNI22VJVgkeuGBqigZyKANgzYhwOTYw73zJfyF0wrp5qhZ5o4ZHgxcmBnP8Tzm5z0cZJpzKWutTfdXaXyNTkQnK2bfnC9lWYffR2O9aEpv-sdONUt6dqY6aDuxdmla2_BeQeWj-gN8/s400/lunch.jpeg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">There
was a teacher in our class who used to bring very delicious lunch to school
every day. Smell of the yummy food of kebab or tandoori chicken used to come
out his bag and those of us sitting in the front row used to die of hunger
smelling it. We used to crave to have a single bite of it. One day, some us
planned to steal the teacher’s lunch and for that we kept a close watch on him
that day. We waited for him to leave his bag in the teachers’ room and go out.
One of us instantly ran into the room, no other teachers were there and
exchanged hid food with what one of my friends brought. The teacher later came
back and probably never realised what we did with his food. We all later had an
awesome time having his meal!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Party
Blow</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">It
was my cousin’s birthday. It was her first birthday party, celebrating her
third birthday. In the evening, we prepared everything and called her. She
stood on a chair and the cake was in front of her on a lower table. I lit up
the candles and switched off the fan. Everybody, who was standing around the
table, told out to blow out the candles. But she didn’t understand at first.
After sometime, she smiled and said that it was easy. Then she dipped her mouth
in the cake and tried to put the candles out. The cake was spilled on all our
face as well as hers. Our beautiful dresses got spoilt. We were for a moment,
very annoyed at such behavior. But then, all of us, including the three
year-old child, burst into laughter. It was a very funny incident. Even when I
recall it today, I laugh out loud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Victory
Day</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">On
our victory day I was strolling around the busy road of Dhaka near Dhaka University and saw a
speeding car with our national flag on its bonnet, which make me think of
something. Our epitome of pride is our national flag and it must be upheld with
respect. This flag is not merely a piece of cloth, rather a true mixture of
colours that signifies thirty million people who sacrificed their lives. Some
of the so-called upper class people like to celebrate this victory day as any
other day partying with friends. It is a day to be inspired, recalling the
martyrs’ sacrifice</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"></a><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">, appreciation of liberty and liability
to carry it out. But again it’s our own mishap that we still do not recognize
ourselves. We carry our own identity as foreign supporters do for their
favourite teams in sports. Can’t we uphold our identity with self-respect?
Doesn’t this day inspire us to do so?</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Paying
to Go Home</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">After
Eid when I got on a rickshaw one day and started towards Rifles Square in Dhanmondi,
where my friends were waiting. The streets were still empty and it was turning
out to be a joy ride. That was when my friend Salehin called me my cell phone
and asked me to meet at the Dhanmondi Lake and Rifles Square. I asked the
rickshaw puller to take me to the lake instead of the mall, when Salehin called
again to let me know that no one will be going to the lake. The gang head now
decided to stick to meeting at Rifles Square .irritated at the constant changes
that were taking place, I asked the rickshaw puller once again if he could
stick to the original point, when he informed me a stern tone that would take
me wherever I wanted to as I pay him his dues. Humour struck and I asked him if
he could take me all the way to “Amrika” (United States Of America) The
rickshaw puller said nothing, but parked his vehicle at the
side of the street turned towards me and scowled, “I could not go to my village
this Eid because I could not afford bus tickets for TK.300 a piece,” he
retorted. “And you are talking about going all the way to ‘Amrika’?” After
venturing out his frustration, the rickshaw puller started
towards Rifles Square once again.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Songs
of Innocence</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Nowadays,
playgrounds are rare in urban areas. Beside our house there is an open space,
where our neighbours’ children play. The other day , while I was watching them
play happily, running around in what is the only open space in the
neighbourhood, the landlord, who usually doesn’t even notice them passed by and
started shouting at them and asking them to go home. The children looked broken
hearted as they left to go home. This left me thinking, is it fair for our
future generations not to have a space where they can enjoy nature and breathe
fresh air?</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Unusual
Feast</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">A
few days ago, it was almost midnight and I was returning home after work. It
was the day of our glorious victory day and everywhere I could feel a sense of
celebration. The air of winter was announcing its pretense powerfully. I was
walking beside a community centre not very far from my residence. Suddenly a
big crowd attracted my eyes. It was quite an unusual scene. I became curious
and went to see what was up. Within moments everything became very clear to me.
A man selling leftover food which he must have collected from nearest community
centre and there were many poor people who were enjoying it at a very low
price. Mainly rickshaw –pullers, day labourers and street urchins were
consuming it. The fragrance of the food was all over the area. I saw a very
small kid eating it happily. Suddenly I felt very bad after many years of independence,
we could not provide the most basic need of our common people—food!</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Material
Boy</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Every
year I come back to Dhaka for the holidays and find a city that is somehow
changing constantly while simultaneously never really moving forward. What
stands out to me is the vigorous pace this evolution of lifestyle exclusively
applies to the elite of our country. In a conversation I had with one my old
high school friends I ran into at a cafe, she was casually joking about her
two-year-old nephew refused to get into any other cars in their house except his
maternal grandfather’s, a former BGMEA tycoon S-class Benz. Even though
everybody else found this story very entertaining, it failed to humour me. Was
I being judgmental towards a tiny toddler’s naivety? Or was I simply worried
about how this illustrated very clearly how far removed members of our upper
class are getting from the reality in which we live? We are spiraling out of
control into a culture of materialism that will surely isolate us further from
the mass population. It gives a glimpse into a future that horrifies me, one
where the leaders and the rich will be even more irresponsible. I hope my
pessimism remains a fear that does not have to be confronted.</span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-66886904696141528702019-05-08T20:06:00.000+06:002020-05-16T12:23:14.344+06:00Ghosts Exist as They Did in The Past<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01RMbbB2ptUwGRHbbNK_VY0L0Nt1Uk_K7dNsW6w7-60nnPZ-t8L70DG6AzWdj-rmX-Wt95Y5rqjeSFcp4PEImzUpjEGCJ-rrPp7TNNhEU3yucRqTf2RCZmEZHaPtnB-PdQrfQSqxxQPVL/s1600/ghosts.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Ghosts Exist as They Did in The Past" border="0" data-original-height="1265" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01RMbbB2ptUwGRHbbNK_VY0L0Nt1Uk_K7dNsW6w7-60nnPZ-t8L70DG6AzWdj-rmX-Wt95Y5rqjeSFcp4PEImzUpjEGCJ-rrPp7TNNhEU3yucRqTf2RCZmEZHaPtnB-PdQrfQSqxxQPVL/s400/ghosts.jpeg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When I was a child, I used to get afraid of ghosts. People in villages
often tell many stories about them. They say that in a particular tree of this
or that area, or this or that bush, there lives an evil ghost, or a benevolent one.
When dusk falls, when the day hastens to become night and trees get silhouetted
against the sky, the vision of dark trees getting darker on the horizon used to
filter a ghostly feeling in me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It is said that during night-time, some even heard, in a particular tree,
the moaning cry of a ghost turned so because the person whose ghost it was had
died an unnatural death by committing suicide. I could not go through such an
area, because of fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Even if I went through such a place with my elders at night, I used to
grab them by my hands, lest a ghost or two jump at me from the nearby bush.
Later when I grew a little bit older, I learnt to dismiss ghosts as mere
superstitions like others. I used to taunt those who still believed in them. I
became so courageous – not without fear of course! – that I could stay, like
Srikanta of Sharatchandra Chattyopadhya, in the dark village graveyard with
numerous unknown sounds of insects at night, betting with my boyhood friends,
who still could believe that ghosts existed. My fear in the grave-yard was,
however, generated by the poisonous reptiles and insects. The village
graveyards were so bushy with numerous holes!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Prince Hamlet of Shakespeare had also seen a ghost, his father’s ghost,
at the palace. His father was killed by his uncle who afterwards married the
queen, now a widow, Hamlet’s mother. The ghost of Hamlet’s father enjoined the
shocked and grieving prince to take revenge upon his killer brother who had
unjustly captured the throne and married his wife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Well, in Elizabethan England, Shakespeare could use such supernatural
machinery, because then, the Shakespeare scholars have found, people still used
to believe in ghosts. A modern reader of Hamlet, very justifiably, may find it
difficult to accept this supernatural scene in the play. But to me, the scene
does not appear unrealistic, if not rational. I don’t call the scene irrational
either. There are many things that happen in the world which our rational mind
is incapable of explaining. They are ever shrouded in mysteries. The ghost
sighting scene in Hamlet and the madness of Hamlet later in the play have a
sound psychological as well as spiritual basis. And human psychology and the
world of spirituality are so unfathomable that our rational mind only touches
the surface of them, cannot reach the deepest deep of the matter. Freudian
critics have tried to explain the case of Hamlet, but I think they have not
succeeded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No, still I don’t believe in those stories of ghosts, that I used to hear
during my child hood. I still reject those stories as mere super stations. But
I am inclined to believe, or rather I am forced to believe, that ghosts and
spirits exist, in the world beyond the natural and temporal, the world unknown
shrouded in mystery, a holy mystery inviolable and unfathomable. And why? You
are a ghost standing there or walking there in your flesh and bones. The ghosts
inside you are commanding you to do this, don’t do that. Yours may be a ‘good’
ghost or an ‘evil’ ghost, a harmless ghost or a harmful ghost. The very ‘you’
is your ghost, the very ‘I’ is my ghost, and ‘we’ are our ghosts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mystically transformed, - indeed it is mystically there from time
immemorial – this daily and mundane world of ours turns into a world of
spirituality, a noble creation of Allah, for a definite and set purpose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 39.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">To many an intellectual, both of the east and the west, religion has
become some sort of superstition nowadays, and rejecting religion – as I
rejected the childhood stories of ghosts – has become a fashion to them, who
are working as forces of disintegration, both at the individual as well as
social levels. It is time to exorcise bad ghosts from the wrappings of bones
and flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-30768834010787195462019-05-03T13:40:00.000+06:002020-05-16T12:33:05.045+06:00Flower Power Short Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_uvq0179gt_8hZUcG0KNhbMM_Rx-MPzZmQWAjrQqTWigH5wzfat4Qh6QGJttgyxdGHaByxmR3XeZdlAW-Z7dCv1OyOhwm2O0EOyseb7DnbmdJrS69mW-eBLZTs_0HFe6ivjoUIc0o-UN/s1600/pexels-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Flower Power Short Story" border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="500" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_uvq0179gt_8hZUcG0KNhbMM_Rx-MPzZmQWAjrQqTWigH5wzfat4Qh6QGJttgyxdGHaByxmR3XeZdlAW-Z7dCv1OyOhwm2O0EOyseb7DnbmdJrS69mW-eBLZTs_0HFe6ivjoUIc0o-UN/s400/pexels-photo.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> I was stuck in
traffic in front of Sonargaon hotel, when I saw a very sweet-looking girl
selling flowers on the street. I stopped her and bought a flower from her,
giving her a tk.20 note, the flower was only tk.4 so she ran off to get the
change while she was returning the traffic started moving and my driver had no
choice but move forward. I figured my money had gone with the wind. However as
I looked back, I saw the girl running after us. My driver stopped near the curb
and she ran up to my window and handed me the change. I was so touched. It is
amazing how even when faced with poverty, some people can still remain honest,
while privileged people often tend to be dishonest and greedy. Just a thought..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">An Ordeal<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQz1j07jh-e4Ddm4DpKPqPAk314sdYnierl5uJam6_SNGALjhUy8Bs6JQ5CKuPTpCjLr5h4Up5-NC25nz6__yTBBgWn3RzbHAtQKzI7ZM9p9xTaMNDLtVkfKAsRMp5e7kK2pwrgcix56M/s1600/pexels-photo-609687.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQz1j07jh-e4Ddm4DpKPqPAk314sdYnierl5uJam6_SNGALjhUy8Bs6JQ5CKuPTpCjLr5h4Up5-NC25nz6__yTBBgWn3RzbHAtQKzI7ZM9p9xTaMNDLtVkfKAsRMp5e7kK2pwrgcix56M/s320/pexels-photo-609687.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQz1j07jh-e4Ddm4DpKPqPAk314sdYnierl5uJam6_SNGALjhUy8Bs6JQ5CKuPTpCjLr5h4Up5-NC25nz6__yTBBgWn3RzbHAtQKzI7ZM9p9xTaMNDLtVkfKAsRMp5e7kK2pwrgcix56M/s1600/pexels-photo-609687.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_2" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1030" style="height: 159.75pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 240pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Last week I experienced an
ordeal which I was always wary about when I ventured into the streets. I was
going to my office from Kazir Dewry to Agrabad by rickshaw and the traffic was
moving but slow. My rickshaw was passing a bus, when I felt something wet drop
on my arm. I looked at it and screeched. Some uncouth person from the bus had
spit out of the window and the bomb landed on me! I was so revolted at the
sight I felt like cutting off my arm. I had to go back home for a shower and
was inevitably late for work. I never understood the habit of Bangladeshis
spitting in all directions every five minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Bargaining</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-WWziQ89b_5prQY0uikUBb6ysIvQlrvPp-PwnixBSNXH8qpfeIYjWwXRCW6uz501lwMNrqeHTFty2SKWerbKP0MhjW3sYOKjTwkO84Yj0A6mZ1QJq12JEAe-zYrt9DZqDPAzo-8-M0k/s1600/pexels-photo-1086711.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-WWziQ89b_5prQY0uikUBb6ysIvQlrvPp-PwnixBSNXH8qpfeIYjWwXRCW6uz501lwMNrqeHTFty2SKWerbKP0MhjW3sYOKjTwkO84Yj0A6mZ1QJq12JEAe-zYrt9DZqDPAzo-8-M0k/s320/pexels-photo-1086711.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-WWziQ89b_5prQY0uikUBb6ysIvQlrvPp-PwnixBSNXH8qpfeIYjWwXRCW6uz501lwMNrqeHTFty2SKWerbKP0MhjW3sYOKjTwkO84Yj0A6mZ1QJq12JEAe-zYrt9DZqDPAzo-8-M0k/s1600/pexels-photo-1086711.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_3" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1029" style="height: 159.75pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 240pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bargaining is truly an art.
I realized how much of an art it was once when I went to new market with my
friend one day to buy some clothes for him. A lady was there with her teenage
son, who was looking somewhat self conscious and also a little embarrassed. At
first we could not figure out the reason behind the boy’s wary glances all
around, after a little while we have no doubts as to why he was feeling like
that. We guessed that the boy was leaving for college soon and that was the
reason behind the buying spree. The lady was going around from one shop to
another and asking prices of almost every clothing article there was. After the
shopkeeper said the price, the woman looked clearly shocked, no matter how
reasonable it was. And she didn’t stop there. She went a further step and asked
the shopkeeper if he would give the item for quarter of the price. The
shopkeeper looked extremely irritated and said a big no. This continued for a
while and in vain. Nothing seemed to satisfy the woman and the poor boy seemed
to grow more timid at every shout his mom gave to the shopkeepers. A small
crowd had also started gathering around to watch her. It was enough for us. We
decided to leave the scene immediately.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Broken Heart<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dTLV0B8EvkFyftQV887H7GT4f-PkRFrPpV7MkVbPgpin1r6T4h7N-SbGkgIGw29EfkpmNyvW5YsIS4jyM4ihwnuG5tcMH4f7dZYTiwAPngHr2un6KJrhJeQOjXwQ9bZgxygXmAYVCIA/s1600/pexels-photo-246367.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dTLV0B8EvkFyftQV887H7GT4f-PkRFrPpV7MkVbPgpin1r6T4h7N-SbGkgIGw29EfkpmNyvW5YsIS4jyM4ihwnuG5tcMH4f7dZYTiwAPngHr2un6KJrhJeQOjXwQ9bZgxygXmAYVCIA/s320/pexels-photo-246367.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dTLV0B8EvkFyftQV887H7GT4f-PkRFrPpV7MkVbPgpin1r6T4h7N-SbGkgIGw29EfkpmNyvW5YsIS4jyM4ihwnuG5tcMH4f7dZYTiwAPngHr2un6KJrhJeQOjXwQ9bZgxygXmAYVCIA/s1600/pexels-photo-246367.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_4" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1028" style="height: 165pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 240pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am a 17-year old boy. I
am going to take my O level exams in 2019. I have been studying at a coaching
centre for some time now. I have many friends there, both male and female. From
among those girls there is one girl, Susmita that I have fallen in love with. I
don’t know how she feels about me but I want to tell her about my feelings. My
problem is that I am shorter than she is. But without her I won’t be able to
succeed in life. Please tell me how can get my confidence back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Great Confusion<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd12YNb1LGnddqeWFLbWDblNuUBaLxXZRntHGydJz8ZpPuzHiIvzEMd6SxYs2gbK6Ghn6yfJf9p6Ea7Sl2XTRkWZN-S8QA6JVePRzvQkX_kwxlQkIOGH8Pvi0hH-eC0054hwI9HL61DF8/s1600/pexels-photo-792777.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd12YNb1LGnddqeWFLbWDblNuUBaLxXZRntHGydJz8ZpPuzHiIvzEMd6SxYs2gbK6Ghn6yfJf9p6Ea7Sl2XTRkWZN-S8QA6JVePRzvQkX_kwxlQkIOGH8Pvi0hH-eC0054hwI9HL61DF8/s320/pexels-photo-792777.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd12YNb1LGnddqeWFLbWDblNuUBaLxXZRntHGydJz8ZpPuzHiIvzEMd6SxYs2gbK6Ghn6yfJf9p6Ea7Sl2XTRkWZN-S8QA6JVePRzvQkX_kwxlQkIOGH8Pvi0hH-eC0054hwI9HL61DF8/s1600/pexels-photo-792777.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_5" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1027" style="height: 240pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 159.75pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am a 29-year old man and
I have completed my post graduation in mathematics. I have a female friend who
has also completed her post graduation in economics. She is a very good friend
of mine. She has a younger sister who is a 2<sup>nd</sup> year student at university.
She is very pretty. A few months ago we fell in love with each other. We had
decided to get married. But the problem is that recently I came to know that my
friend is also very much in love with me and wants to marry me at any rate. But
I have always thought of her as just a good friend and I do not feel anything
else for her. I just want her younger sister. Will this be unfair? Please
advise me on what I should do?</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At a loss!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwY3q6-47gOh78z8eheJ9PMIiJw14ZppV2zstOYu4WRAf4DiVLnlZpYdEgUXsMzfOdqrAL5TRY8-7tpHv-iiwFAUE0X9uuQ0ALq-ASAb94crYDvpe_brVobbHZx6A1ukkt9SjdpQ4FlI/s1600/pexels-photo-278303.jpeg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; text-decoration: none;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwY3q6-47gOh78z8eheJ9PMIiJw14ZppV2zstOYu4WRAf4DiVLnlZpYdEgUXsMzfOdqrAL5TRY8-7tpHv-iiwFAUE0X9uuQ0ALq-ASAb94crYDvpe_brVobbHZx6A1ukkt9SjdpQ4FlI/s320/pexels-photo-278303.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwY3q6-47gOh78z8eheJ9PMIiJw14ZppV2zstOYu4WRAf4DiVLnlZpYdEgUXsMzfOdqrAL5TRY8-7tpHv-iiwFAUE0X9uuQ0ALq-ASAb94crYDvpe_brVobbHZx6A1ukkt9SjdpQ4FlI/s1600/pexels-photo-278303.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_6" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1026" style="height: 158.25pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 240pt;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am a final year BCom
student I adore a girl that I used to know in school. I could not tell her
about my love when we were in school. Afterwards I wrote to her saying that I
idolized her and I would marry her after I got established. She responded
positively and since then we have been writing to each other .It has been
approximately three years since that and now we live far away from each other
and hardly ever meet. Still I adore her so deeply that I feel that she is
beside me all the time. But now she is old enough to get married and I am
still in no position to marry her. But it will be very difficult for me to live
without her. Please tell me what I should do.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Darkness Conundrum<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am a twelve- year old girl.
Recently I have joined in a new school after studying in Sylhet . I think that
I am very ugly. I have big teeth and I am very dark and fat. That is the reason
that the girls in my class don’t like to make friends with me. I feel very
lonely at school and also very upset when I see others talking and
laughing. Sometimes I see girls pointing at me and giggling. I cry every
night before going to bed because of these things. I hate going to school for
that. I don’t even feel like studying. I think the teachers hate me too.
My mother tells me to go and make friends but I am scared of the girls. What
can I do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-63487572955412719762019-05-03T13:22:00.001+06:002020-05-16T12:34:19.231+06:00Personal Affair<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bothered</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG7YD2FbwbHoNIwdvq2xfoJhOAQ_XnNr5a1aZ9jgAf3Hdvj9bBDuf9QlRFQJlMapGCNQozq7-jDSZ2_nQUDTzV3ZyrGMPw7ChOmnf1OQ9Bq9tUsQ0MdMrWDfEEnJqudHWOS2c2MTYFQnk/s1600/heartsickness-lover-s-grief-lovesickness-coupe-50592.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Personal Affair" border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG7YD2FbwbHoNIwdvq2xfoJhOAQ_XnNr5a1aZ9jgAf3Hdvj9bBDuf9QlRFQJlMapGCNQozq7-jDSZ2_nQUDTzV3ZyrGMPw7ChOmnf1OQ9Bq9tUsQ0MdMrWDfEEnJqudHWOS2c2MTYFQnk/s400/heartsickness-lover-s-grief-lovesickness-coupe-50592.jpeg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a 19 year old man and I have started getting into trouble with everyone. I
tend to get into fights with everyone. This is not an exception for girls. When
they say something stupid I always get angry and it gets unpleasant. So I am
not making any progress with girls. Every ones I like I drive away. So tell me,
should I try to be more understanding and control my impulses just to keep
a pleasant atmosphere? I mean, I can never be hypocritical and my frankness
always leads to unpleasantness. Please tell me how should I behave, this is
really bothering me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Marriage
Conundrum</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am 30 year-old woman. I got married three years ago and I have a pretty good
relationship with my husband ever since. My husband’s brother is 2 years older
than him and married my best friend. My friend and I were very excited we had a
double marriage at the same place and were looking forward to some really happy
times after our marriage. But my mother in law from the very start made it a
point that she didn’t approve of either the two marriages. My husband’s family
is well established and as such they have a lot of help around the house. The
week after we were married my mother in law fired all of the hands except the
driver and the guard because she stated that since the daughter-in-laws are
home they wouldn’t need any work done by strangers in the house. Neither of our
husbands obviously agreed to this and the hands were called back. But that was
just the beginning. Every day she finds new complaint for one of us. Since my
father-in-law is not alive we cannot even leave her in a house alone and live
separately. She emotionally drained us completely. Please tell us what we can
do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Troubled</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a 25- year-old girl and have been brought up by my parents who have
had a very troubled marriage. I don’t want to go into the details of how it was
for me, I can just say that I was badly affected and started to hate them.
Since I didn’t have anyone to go to I started taking drugs with some friends of
mine when I was only sixteen. I have also been in and out of relationships
during this time. I have been to rehab many times and I guess I am okay now. I
am going out with a guy now who is a year older than I am. He is very nice and
witty , but the problem is that whenever I try to talk about my past he stops
me and says that he doesn’t want to know about it. But I can’t really go on
with him unless I openly talk about what I have been through. The life I had
still troubles me now, I have nightmares from time to time. I feel very
frustrated when he won’t listen to me about this and frankly I really just
need to get it all out of me. Please tell me what should I do, I have very few
friends, and none of my relatives like our family.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Helpless</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a 26- year-old man studying in IBA on a part time basis. I got married
two years ago with a woman I was having a relationship with. Many people said
that I made a mistake by getting married because my father-in-law and other
relatives of my wife did not accept our relationship. My parents also pushed me
to away from them because I married without their consent. Now I am living with
my wife away from my parents. I am passing my days in misery because my beloved
wife is not happy with my income. She does not particularly like the fact that
I am still studying. But to be an MBA is my only ambition. If I want to engage
all my time to earning money, I can, but my desire to be an MBA will go in
vain. What should I do? Should I quit my studies? Please help me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Betrayed</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a 17- year-old girl and have just finished my A-levels in January of
this year. Before I appeared for my exams , my parents promised me that I would
be able to go to abroad for my higher studies if I did my A-levels . I
even appeared for my SAT and TOEFL and managed to achieve quite good scores.
Now after I have finished my exams they are telling me that I am not mature
enough to go and study abroad and I should dismiss such thoughts and think
about getting into a good university here. When I asked them about their
earlier promise they say that I can go abroad to do my masters. I feel totally
betrayed and do not wish to study in any universities here. I have promised to
do very badly in all the entry exams they make me give here, but that is not
going to solve my problem. Tell me what should I do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Puzzled</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a 16 years old. I have been going out with a boy who is twenty years
old for the past six months. My boyfriend, John had an affair with a girl
before going out with me. When I asked him about her he assured me that their
relationship didn’t mean anything to him and he loved me with all his heart. On
his birthday last month, he was presented with a large bouquet from his ex-girl
friend. When I asked him about it, he said I shouldn’t be worried about such
things because he didn’t love her anymore. But a few days ago one of my friends
saw him with her going somewhere on a rickshaw. When I asked him what was going
on, he said since she was a classmate he was just accompanying her to a place
they were invited to. I don’t want to lose him because I love him very much but
at this rate I don’t think I can hold on to him much longer. What can I do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Frustrated</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
am a nineteen years old and have been married for a year under some
pressure from my parents because some goons in my neighbourhood were disturbing
me. But now I find life extremely difficult to handle. My sister-in-laws are
always picking on me about everything I do. They will find a mistake at every
opportunity and my husband is mostly at his office and thinks that it is my
fault that I cannot communicate with them. I have even heard them complaining
about me to other people behind my back. Sometimes I feel like killing myself.
All this pressure is very difficult to bear. I have tried really hard to please
them but they just cannot stand me. It seems that they had chosen one of their
friends to marry my husband to, but he chose me and that is my sin. What can I
do in these circumstances?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-46580532616635865952019-05-02T12:42:00.002+06:002020-05-16T12:38:32.929+06:00How to Inspire Ourselves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkEJKYDq67q_OF0qOsynBwmf2Cuc65GM96dwpJi7DboT3pQjEazMlNJHWFtTNqew1r11FBFfom87thFByC53cjb7rgdzAK_LwPcmyE_Y7C42J27oq_-ChOOHGpfo4b0a4_ZDEaeXD8v-9/s1600/pexels-photo-1231230.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="How to Inspire Ourselves" border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="1600" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkEJKYDq67q_OF0qOsynBwmf2Cuc65GM96dwpJi7DboT3pQjEazMlNJHWFtTNqew1r11FBFfom87thFByC53cjb7rgdzAK_LwPcmyE_Y7C42J27oq_-ChOOHGpfo4b0a4_ZDEaeXD8v-9/s400/pexels-photo-1231230.jpeg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Inspiration
is a word that is very vital in achieving success in our lives. Inspiration is
the key to success. Most of us can not realize how much the power of
inspiration is. Inspiration gives us the ability to work. Inspiration drives
laziness from our body and mind and encourages us to do hard work relentlessly.
And makes us fully active. Then we never lag behind in any work and we go ahead
with great enthusiasm. The inspiration behind work acts as fuel to do something
great and outstanding. And if we lose inspiration, we also lose everything.
Inspiration enhances our confidence. And if we believe in ourselves, no
obstacle can defeat us. But for some reason if we fail for the time being, the
motivation power helps us get back to the right track and do more hard work. If
there is any inspiration in the work, success will come in that work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On the other
hand, people lose their self-confidence without inspiration. So, they lose
interest in their respective work. Then the job seems a burden. Self-confidence
and inspiration are the key tools of success in life. Those who do not have
inspiration, they can never achieve success in any work. As a result there is a
lack of confidence in them. Sluggishness grasps his body and mind. Our
thoughts become negative. And then they feel drastic emotional pressure.
That makes our beautiful life burdensome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Change what
you say about the purpose behind any action. For example, you might have been
able to understand yourself behind school going so long that if you do not go
to class you will be driven out of school or can not pass in the exam. Or you
have to explain yourself as a reason for going to regular classes so that you
can succeed in your career. And if you give this understanding in your work
life, then you will get the inspiration to do your work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Because if
you do a specific reason behind why you are doing the job then you have the
urge to do that work. And because of this, you will be encouraged to know
yourself. If there is a specific reason behind the work, you have persecution
in order to finish the work regardless of the situation. On the other hand if
there is no reason or you do not set the reason for it, then there will be uneasiness
towards your work. Laxity will increase in your body. So change the way you
talk to yourself before you go to a job, do your work with your benefit. And
this understanding will give you more inspiration and you do well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We often make a
big mistake by comparing ourselves with others. If we are as good as ourselves
from our position, our eyes are on our side who are better than us. And that
exactly ruins our joy and pleasure. Because we forget that we are very happy
with our position. Then it becomes the most important of us to compare
ourselves with them. His car is more expensive than my car, he is making more
money than I, more happiness than I in his life etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It is again
seen that the person you are thinking about is making the same thing again with
his senior person. And this is how the cycle of destroying happiness continues.
And that's why no one can be happy with their position. On the other hand, if
you compare yourself with others, your self-confidence will be ruined. And your
ability to progress will be reduced. Because you will be frustrated by the
success of others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And once the
frustration surrounds you with its wall, and then it becomes difficult to get
out of the wall. So, we should try our best to get ourselves out of our
respect. Then there will be no shortage of self-confidence and inspiration will
also be abundance. And at the end of the day your success is sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At one point
I have already discussed that the purpose or purpose of your work is to
understand your soul. Then your motivation will drive you to do that work. But
if you do not know the purpose of that work, how will you make understand your
mind, right? So try to understand why and for what you are working for. And if
you do not know the reason, then find out it. Before leaving your work, first
think why you are doing the job. What is your profit by doing this? And when
you find the answers to these questions, take the job. Because you will not
have any benefit in doing unprofitable work and in the middle of the work
you will lose the inspiration and will also fail in that work. So understand
the specific goals of your work and the purpose behind it. This is the best way
how to inspire ourselves to our study or any work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Keep track of
your daily progress. This will bring you great benefits. If you write
daily work schedule in your diary, then you can get your inspiration from
seeing the list of those activities every day. Seeing your achievements will
increase your confidence. One study found that people were more inspired and
worked hard after seeing the progress of their work in the past. So write
your daily work in the diary. As your encouragement increases, you can move
forward in the next step of success. That is why you should know how to inspire
yourself every day. It will increase your confidence that you
are able to work long. And if you increase your confidence, the level of
motivation will increase. And at the end of the day you will reach the corridor
of success, depending on these two.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The burden of
criticism of the attack of arrows that did not hit the arrow. Every successful
man's life was initially criticized. But they did not stop. That is why we can
enjoy this beautiful world today through their relentless work. Criticism will
come in the way of life. And we must continue to accept it. But many of them do
not stop doing their own way of fear of criticism. And there ended their
innovative thinking, if they did not stop thinking of criticism,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If people did
not think that they would say, then their inventions might have made our world
more complicated. But critics do us a favor by one day. Because there are two
sides of criticism a negative one and more positive one. If you think
of its positive side and overcome your weaknesses, then success is a must for
you. So instead of getting the fear of criticism, take it as challenge and try
to overcome your weaknesses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Most of us
have a sense that if we want to finish work fast or to achieve success in the
work, we need to work harder, even then our performance is improved. But
this thought is completely wrong. No, I'm not forbidding you to work. Because
there is no alternative of hard work in achieving success. I'm saying that
there should be limitation of your hard otherwise it will create adverse impact
on our body and mind. Because if you spend a lot of time in a work and do not
take any breaks, then you will not be able to do that work. Then sluggishness
will terribly encircle you. There will be a lack of inspiration. A
persecution of working after leaving the job will work inside you. Then it will
be seen that after working one day more, the work has not been done for the
next two days. Then you will be in danger. So if you do not want to lose the
work enthusiasm, then you have to set a certain time limit for daily work and
break it. Then the work will be completed by inspiration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Spend time
with more intelligent people than you. By doing this you benefit yourself. Your
knowledge store will grow. Many things can be learned while spending time with
them which will be useful in the way of life. Do not forget that knowledge is
always powerful. Having spent time with the wisest people, it is known to
everybody that the state of knowledge will increase further. And a good
solution to your problem will be achieved by discussing with them. And the
most important thing that you gather when you keep in touch with them
is you can understand your own weaknesses and know ways to overcome them
which is not possible by the company of fools.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">People are
concerned about habit If you develop the habit you will automatically follow
the principle of that habit. Habits are essentially controlling people. And the
controlling power of building that habit is in your hands. If you build a good
habit, they will be useful in every step of your life. So make your desired
behavior a habit. Then achieving success will be easy. For example, you might
like to read. Then develop regular practice periods of time. This will increase
your knowledge base. So, develop some habits that are good for you, good for
your workplace and that will make you a good human being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The path to
success is never easy. There are many problems in the way. And you can not
escape from the problem. You have to face those problems and have to overcome
them technically and intelligently. If there is a sudden problem in our
lives, we all become nervous. There is no time to prepare to deal with it. Then
there is fear of failure which results in frustration. So think about the
problem of work that will help you think beforehand. Think about what problems
you may face. Then you can be prepared to face that problem and you will be
confident that any problems you are facing can actually be tackled. Because if
you are already ready to face any problem, then you can easily fight against
it. But if you do not think there will be any problems then you will be in
danger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">You have
probably heard that "life is like an experimental journey, not a
destination." But if you concentrate not only on the final destination of
life but focus on this experience then you will be able to enjoy life more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Ultimately,
inspiration actually works as a burning flame for our success. So inspire
yourself. Because the confidence and inspiration will help you to reach the
ultimate destination of your success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-90071944278990534262019-05-01T22:33:00.000+06:002020-05-09T11:22:15.274+06:00The Romantic Story <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNPjDH4UW_3zDGMO1MzV0-MAIeaP_m1PfLm2v7HYDXz0krEIRQITMeYN067TtL8j3kaf6HsBPdorWVplAU1Wt3cBfdeym50sWakxlqpz8C3hBV1VVtEfc1MBiHL5QR935lQmXVFReE2FP/s1600/nat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNPjDH4UW_3zDGMO1MzV0-MAIeaP_m1PfLm2v7HYDXz0krEIRQITMeYN067TtL8j3kaf6HsBPdorWVplAU1Wt3cBfdeym50sWakxlqpz8C3hBV1VVtEfc1MBiHL5QR935lQmXVFReE2FP/s320/nat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">SHAMMI woke up that morning feeling
as detached as if she were a character in a short and not a real girl
waking up on an important, heraldic day. She was getting formally engaged
today, and instead of excitement she only felt a vague urgency to settle some
unfinished business, probe a dully aching tooth in her life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Perhaps she should put her thoughts
on paper, write out a letter but to whom? Or may be she should attempt a short story?
As a prodigious reader of romantic fiction she often wished she had the gift of
writing and could have written a story for the magazine for which her best
friend Asma’s brother Ahsaan often wrote. Today, she wished she could have
written something that would have earned her his eternal admiration, even a nod
of acknowledgement from him. Oh! He was so bright and talented and well….
Handsome to boot. Everyone wondered how in spite of being a busy medical student
in his last year he still found time to be creative.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She once told Asama, in the hope that
it would reach his ears that she thought Ahsaan’s fiction was a bit like him:
intelligent but grounded too much in reality. His characters were idealistic
and impassioned enough to seem terribly romantic but were too much in control
of their emotions to give in to the wonderfully irrational realm of the heart. She
sighed now .It was a pity that Ahsaan’s stories, though intellectually and
technically polished, were…. Dare she admit it dry and boring? But, naturally,
Shammi read them anyway and quite avidly too; She world read even a medical
treatise signed by him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Apart from the fact that over the
years he had often lent her books and magazines , engaged her in casual
conversation while helping (or rather, scolding )her in maths , and had once
used her name in one of his stories , Ahsaan<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>seemed hardly aware of her existence. But where could she file away the
odd memory or two when she could swear he was alive to her, fully conscious of
her like the time they had found themselves squashed together on a crowded car
trip to Khulna, with long miles of cringing, sparking, pent up closeness on
their way to the Sundarban cruise, or that year on Eid ….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shammi caught herself sighing a
second time and scolded herself for thinking about Ahsaan on the day of her
engagement to Jamal. Goodness! She was going to become a Mrs. Haque. Was that
the spelling? Or was it Huque? It definitely was not Huq, of that she was sure.
She reached for the jar of Uptan and marched to the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The other family members seemed to be
out in preparation for the events of the evening .Shammi dressed carefully and
went down to the flat immediately below to look in on Asma. The maid opened the
door. ‘Afa has kelash this morning.’ Of cause ,how could she forget that Asma
had Psychology class on Thursday , Shammi made a gesture of slapping her
forehead , but she still lingered at the door taming her freshly shampooed hair
, waiting for Bua’s next word; ‘But Bhaiyya is here…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Oh! Good. Then I’ll just say hello
to him, ‘Shammi breezed in and walked up to the study door more boldly than she
felt. Though he knock was timid her laugh was hearty and carefree when she
entered and greeted Ahsaan as he half turned his tousled head towards her from
his desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘well, well, well, if it’s not the
bride –to be ! There were shadows under his eyes but he gave her a crinkly smile
as he scrutinized her. Shammi’s mouth went dry but her attitude was arch. ‘I
thought I’d look in on the Daaktar Shaheb and see what new frontiers of
literature or medicine you were pushing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘In fact, will you believe it , I was
just thinking about you .’ Shammi’s heart pounded as she found the voice to speak:
Really? And why pray is that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘You see, I am in the death throes of
finishing a story for next week about a girl who is getting married , and I
need some in –put from you…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Aha ! Finally a romantic story?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I mean,
who the hell knows what’ romantic’ is .Anyway , maybe you can help me. I am
having problems with the ending. I don’t want to make it happy and unreal or
sad and real.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>‘Why
not happy and real?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>‘I
can’t .Doesn’t fit in.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>‘Fit
in with what?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>‘With
reality, conventions, the way things happen in real life, you know….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘But its fiction, for God’s sake! Why
should it have to be real . It can be anything you want to make it.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘No, dear girl, that’s life you’re
talking about, not fiction. Only in life theoretically –you have the freedom of
choice and action. Fiction works within boundaries. You see,. Life can be
conducted in creative ways by individuals who have the courage and conviction
to make or break conventions and seek their own truths, find their own paths. But
the ‘reality’ of fiction, the limits within which the fiction world operates so
that facts and events appear plausible, can’t be tampered with too much. I am
not talking about innovative narrative techniques but the reliability of fictional
truths.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shammi shook her head and released a
roomful of fragrance. ‘This is too complicated, and you are too analytical .I
am a simple girl who relies on her senses and instincts, I don’t understand
you.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Or maybe you don’t want to understand.’
Ahsaan looked at her thoughtfully then turned his chair fully to face her as
she sat at the edge of his bed. ‘Listen, let me present you the simple
predicament of the story, and you tell me how you’d solve it.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘What’s the story about?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘A girl ….’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Pretty?’ He rolled his eyes and
laughed, ‘shop interrupting. Yes , pretty. Like you.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Something ached inside her and out of
the blue she wondered what it would have been like to be kissed by him. But she
looked blandly at him as he toyed with the mouse on the pad and continued. ‘It’s
actually a rather trite story. Here is a girl who has a crush on a boy but she
never expresses her feelings .Her wedding is arranged to a man whom she meets
and likes, but her feelings for the first boy are still unresolved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘And the boy?’ Shammi whispered, her
hands clenching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘What about him? His feelings towards
her are irrelevant here. The story is about the girl….’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘No, wait .That’s not right, that’s
completely askew.’ She almost got up in her agitation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Will you just let me finish? So, the
day of her wedding dawns and she finds herself alone with him , and she has
this desire to let him know how she feels about him and to …’ ‘Shammi stood up
, ‘I don’t want to hear his story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Why?’ Ahsaan rose and came to stand
close to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘You’re right .It is trite and
silly.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘You haven’t even heard the extent of
its triteness.’ Ahsaan laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Oh I know , next you’re going to say
that the girl wishes to have some sort of …physical encounter, a souvenir of
…of this ‘infatuation’ to help her decide right?’ Shammi stammered angrily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Perhaps ….Hey , why are you mad?’
Ahsaan leaned forward and touched her hand .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Because you are derisive and mocking
and presumptuous and arrogant and …. And a terrible writer. You should just concentrate
on your dissections and leave romantic stories to those who understand about
feelings. And you Know something, if you thought even for a moment that I had a
crush on you, you are mistaken. You think too much of yourself. If anything I
hate you!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the time it took her to swallow
her tears and turn to run out Ahsaan had grabbed her and gathered her to himself.’What
a silly girl you are.’ He said over and over as he kissed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘So how would the story end?’Shammi
asked as they came up for air. ‘You tell me.’ Ahsaan stroked her hair. Shammi sighed,
‘It depends on the boy, how he feels .’Ahsaan looked into her eyes and said clearly:
‘No ,it doesn’t .Even if he does love her back , it’s only the girl who Knows
what to do , what step to take .’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Would calling off the wedding
guarantee that the girl and boy would guarantee that the girl and boy would
eventually be happy together, or happy and together?’ Shammi spoke half to herself.
Ahsaan held her silently offering no reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Ahsaan, tell me honestly, would you
commit yourself to me if I broke up with Jamal today?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘In good fiction, it would be highly
unrealistic if I said ,’Yes , I VOW eternal love .Give up everything for me.’
It would be expected that a medical student with a long way to go would out of
his love and consideration tell his lady love ‘I can promise nothing’ and leave
the story again in the hands of the girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘But in reality? Today, now , what
are you saying to me?’ Shammi clutched at his shirtfront and shook him .Kissing
the top of her head, Ahsaan sighed , ‘The answer would be the same.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shammi abruptly released her hold and
walked out of the room .Ahsaan slowly went back to keyboard and typed out the
conclusive paragraph of his story: She went back to her room and hid her face
in the pillow, crying bitterly. She had made the right decision. She would have
to forget him and just cherish the memory of the kiss. At least she had that. Perhaps
over the years the significance of this day would be revealed to her. THE END.’
He sat back, his cold heart clenched like a face about to cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shammi went back to her room and
taking the pillow from her bed, punched and pummeled it was she making the
right decision? Could she forget him and live on the memory of the kiss? Over
the years the significance of this day would be revealed to her, and it would
be too late .She was not some heroine in a short story bound by the stale
conventions of perceived reality. She was not a writer of realistic fiction but
a reader of romantic fiction .Yet, she was no ordinary woman. No sir .And by god!
Her life was going to be every bit as romantic as the unrealistic , light
hearted fiction she loved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She took up the phone and called up
her mother on her cell phone: ‘Ammu , please don’t be angry. But something has
come up and we have to rethink the engagement.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘What? What the hell is this girl saying?
Whatever happened?’ Her mother’s voice was hysterical . Shammi gulped. ‘I’ll
explain please just come home .Please.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Then she went over to Ahsaan’s study.
She didn’t bother to knock. He was learning back in his chair at his desk, his
eyes shut . She cleared her throat and smiled from the doorway. Ahsaan stared
at her for a while then held out his arms. As she came to him she laughed:
‘Your short story maybe finished Daaktar Shaheb, but mine is about to start. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-75103915544255026162019-05-01T22:15:00.000+06:002019-05-29T22:29:18.982+06:0010 Ways to Be a Happier Person<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImCeXyBG4bWfW0UL99SmygKjiPula3mWIhtOf86Ksz-D6E33E9gaHQs7ixL-xcIvPJpMTeyUOI0ZZQfsR5HTBsGdOMrF42sas0xwkwDJqsfvA2W8umY88km_FtYc1gsO1v2lkekoGEyzL/s1600/anna.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImCeXyBG4bWfW0UL99SmygKjiPula3mWIhtOf86Ksz-D6E33E9gaHQs7ixL-xcIvPJpMTeyUOI0ZZQfsR5HTBsGdOMrF42sas0xwkwDJqsfvA2W8umY88km_FtYc1gsO1v2lkekoGEyzL/s400/anna.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Joy is the driving force
of life. And this joy comes as an outcome of happiness. In this self-centered
world our activities are just for our happiness. In the hope of achieving
happiness, people struggle so much in the way of life. Nobody takes steps for sorrow.
Everyone is struggling so much for the beauty of the bliss of happiness. Ask
who wants to be happy in life. You, me, we all try to be happy in our life. We
all hanker after happiness.In total; we do all the things in our daily life
with the hope of happiness. No one will want to bring any more sorrow into
life, will you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
If we live a happy life then our life is filled with joy and pleasure. The way
of our life becomes colorful. Then there was a skyscraper and confidence in the
strength. Besides happy people live for a long time. Optimism and positive
thoughts help prevent heart disease and increase the resistance of our body. So
it is very important to establish yourself as a happy person in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Do not be Lonely, Find a Partner<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Loneliness will take away
the joy of happiness from your life. Although the loneliness seed does not
spread its roots first, it gradually extends its strength and grasps us
mentally and physically. After that there are many problems. So do not be
lonely, do not make the mistake of planting loneliness in the life. Keep your
relationships alive. Because relationships help people to be happy. Those who
keep a close relationship with different people in the society, they stay
happier and better than others and live longer. Intimate relationship with
friends and family brings love and survival to life and builds self-confidence.
Make your relationships stronger, develop new relationships. It is very
important to be happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Do Something for Others<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Helping others is the key
to happiness - it gives us more happiness, makes us more healthy. Because our
hearts are happy when we help others. If we do something for others, we feel
proud of ourselves and this gives us the eternal joy in our life. Believe me,
if you buy any gift for you mother or father with your own
money, this will bring great pleasure for you. Your heart will be full of
joy. And this joy can bring tear of happiness to your eyes. In
addition, if we do g anything for others, it will make our relationship
stronger. As a result, the benefits of the society in general are good,
everyone is happy. In all cases the question is not money and money. We can
help others through time, ideas, labor etc. So do something good to get mental
peace. Then you can feel happiness subconsciously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Take Care of Your Physical Fitness<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We live in our bodies at
the end of the day. If your body is not good then no matter what you do. The
body and mind are intimately related to each other. If the body is active then
the mind is also happy, the health is good. If the 'mood' is good then you can
also get out of mental exhaustion. Moreover, he who is not cared for himself
can never go ahead because he cannot take care of himself, how will he take
care of others or work? And the biggest thing is to take care of yourself
for happiness. When we are physically and mentally fit, our self-confidence
increases. So take care of yourself and every day you can do some simple
work. Go out of the room, take fresh air and sleep enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Set the Goal of the Choice<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A positive attitude about
the future is important for the happiness of the mind. All need some goals
for their motivation. But they should not be unrealistic. Otherwise, there will
be unnecessary 'stress' or emotional stress. If the goal is set in consistent
with the ambition and the framework of the realities, life will be guided in
the right direction. If you can fulfill that goal, satisfaction and pleasure
will come. On the other hand, success is not possible without a specific goal.
And goals are like the stairs of success which you will achieve one after
another. And the goal is to bring people to the edge of success. And by
achieving success, who does not you enjoy happiness and joy? So it is important
to set a goal of choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Be Aware of the Surrounding World<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Have you ever felt that
there is more to enjoy in our life? The good news is that there are more things
to enjoy in our life. We must understand that by giving a pause for a moment in
our life. Increasing attention increases the good feelings in
all areas of life. There is no remorse for the past if you are aware of the
present time, there will be no worries about the future at all. And if you
only think about present, you can enjoy your life because the main reason for
the disappointment of the people is to keep the past and think about the
future. These two things drive away the happiness of most of the people. So it
is important to be alert nowadays so that you can not touch the pain of the
past and the anxiety of the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Positive Thought<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Positive emotions like
joy, gratitude and satisfaction are not good for just a while. If these
feelings come back to life frequently, the life becomes more and more
enjoyable. Positive thinking bears a lot of power. It makes people's confident
and strong. As a result, inspiration is found to be 100%.And if these two
foundations are in the right place, then at the end of the day, happiness
smiles on your face. There are happiness and sorrow in life but focusing on the
good aspects of any situation is really beneficial. Seeing half of the pot is
good, half is not empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Do Not Stop learning<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Education is the backbone
of human beings. Just like a man can not stand when the
backbone breaks, so can people not prosper in life if they stop learning
from life. Happiness does not come to his life and life becomes very dull and
gloomy to him. Education has a positive effect in the case of happiness and
well being of a person.. New ideas come to mind; help us to be curious and
active. Education gives satisfaction to mind, enhances self-confidence and
power. There are many opportunities to learn new things - such as new skills,
language, games, songs etc. This will enrich our ways to stay
happier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Learn to Wake up Again<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Everyone's life has
'stress', loss of something or someone, or other is bad experience. Our
happiness depends on how we deal with them; we do not have to be good at
everything. In our lives, in most cases we can not decide for
ourselves. But we can decide our attitude about what has happened.
According to a recent report, to like many
things resistance can also be learned. This will
boost our ways to happier living.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Be Content with Yourself<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nobody is perfect. But we
often compare ourselves with everyone else. If you do not own it, it's more headaches.
And these thoughts take our happiness away from us. Due to the frustration,
these thoughts start to grow. If we are not satisfied with our own position, it
is difficult to be happy. So we should think more about what we have.
Especially in difficult times, if we learn to accept it and feel more
compassionate to ourselves, then we will have joy in life. It would be easier
for us to accept others as well. So, we have to learn ways to be happier
today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">See Yourself as Part of a Larger World<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The person who sees the
meaning of life, he is much happier. His mental stress, fear and depression
levels are also low. Religious beliefs, being a parent of a child - even new
jobs can bring meaning to life. This feeling is different for everyone. But in
every case this feeling comes that we are only a part of the larger world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the end, I would say
that happiness and sorrow is the epitome of money. Do not get frustrated if you
get saddened, do not stop being frustrated. There is no point in stopping life
for these trivial reasons. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-91679911655959987312019-05-01T18:01:00.001+06:002020-05-09T11:14:05.761+06:00Working the Bell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbq1K0BYiISya_SVeScCYVf2fxyyJVEZDHA_CBUgwD_7T7pyQDvAqrAly2YYuxPSidqqujRq1H5me5mpskUAOupraLyAxWjgpDsf51j4LWyVcjx5EZ6HIff5KJBK9Xhq0XaqVzwZJb3DI/s1600/pexels-photo-157554.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbq1K0BYiISya_SVeScCYVf2fxyyJVEZDHA_CBUgwD_7T7pyQDvAqrAly2YYuxPSidqqujRq1H5me5mpskUAOupraLyAxWjgpDsf51j4LWyVcjx5EZ6HIff5KJBK9Xhq0XaqVzwZJb3DI/s400/pexels-photo-157554.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 8pt;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 8.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It
has been six years that I have been working the bell. At first I started
in this kitchen, cleaning pots, sweeping the floor, going to the shops on
errands. Then one day, and I don't quite know if it really was a fortunate day
for me, I was promoted to working the bell. That is, answering the call of the
madam. Two of the others had not come to work, so I suppose it was
necessary for me to take over. They gave me a new shirt so that I would
be presentable in front of guests. And every year since they have given me a
new shirt on Eid days, so now i have a total of thirteen. I consider myself
lucky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My
tasks are very simple. I am in search of taking tea upstairs and bringing the
dishes down afterwards. I also let the dogs out to the garden or call them
back again. This is what I do all day. I have been doing this past
six years; it is modeled so clearly in my mind that I do it without thinking.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bell
rings. He leaves, scrambling quickly into his sandals. He returns with a tray
in his hands, it has two tea cups on it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
I was saying it is very easy job, but you know it gets disturbing.
The same things again and again. Up and down, down and up. This vigor began to
build up in me. But it was a bad kind of vigor' an angry sort.
I started to pray a lot, and as I lay my forehead on the ground, I
would mash in some anger. But the burning in my chest kept getting worse until
it was so uncontrollable, I would feel like stretching right out of myself. But
now I carry it close to my chest.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bell
rings. He runs up again, and returns quickly, panting a little.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> That
was for the dogs. As I said before, I do consider myself fortunate. For
outside these doors life is hand to mouth. And there is hardly anything from
our soil worth eating any more. It is bad that I am so ungrateful for a
full bell, but sometimes about the bell just disturbs me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sometimes
in my sleep I twitch randomly, as if to respond to the bell. Any sudden
sound makes me think she is calling me, so it is difficult for me to lie.
During the day I run on a wide eyed energy that has been burning me up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
often feel this sharp pain pierce my chest, as if someone was poking me hard,
and laughing. It is this person that I want to confront, and leave dead. And
the burning is spreading through my body. Scorching its way to the very core of
my bones. The most severe of sorrows, it has even seared my tender memories and
charred them black.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Bell
rings. He leaves only to return for a glass of water. He runs up again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">At
times I feel as if the rage in my body will implode, simply collapse in on
itself. It would condense itself to hot iron that could pierce my soul clear
through. The only way I can avoid this by cooling my fury out, patiently.
I need to do this alone because if anybody fell in my path, the hit would burn
them silly. Sometimes I am so full of anger that I am afraid to touch my own
body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">And
when they say you have a choice, they lie, because a true choice gives you
somewhat of a fair alternative. Cause just when you think you've got everything
together, when everything's neatly in place, someone comes along and
knocks a single thing out of line, and everything starts tumbling
down, falling apart-and no matter how hard you try, you can't pick up the pieces
fast enough, you just can't.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">But I
once knew love. A love that filled my lungs with pure air. She was the kind of
woman people couldn't help loving. Something that made you need to live. She
should me how real dreams could be; reached into the valleys of my heart, and
healed my soul in places I didn't know were hurting. She showed me how wide
heaven was. A woman that cushioned my
world; and made me want to jump up and spread my arms, because I was that close
to flying. But I lost that love. She married while I wrestled with my private
demons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I
cried when I lost that love. And it is very difficult for me to cry. But
there is still a part of me however, that is a child; that wants to laugh out
loud just because the world looks so interesting. Because everything looks so
golden. But it is difficult now; the days move slowly. Things have little
rhythm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-71046914363932430162019-05-01T17:44:00.001+06:002020-05-09T11:10:51.073+06:00How to Build a Positive Attitude Towards Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNrBuVxS5QRa3iyd3KTtdBh07Anv1HvhuC1RO1idDVzPtrlhfuTKibO53YZZZ7OLsmm7r2JgmlplKTV1stFYno6BvJ1S8x9qd2wAN7WUPviMBGClxIY39zva6nGhS24Q7_5gcrlaIaS-v/s1600/p.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1014" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNrBuVxS5QRa3iyd3KTtdBh07Anv1HvhuC1RO1idDVzPtrlhfuTKibO53YZZZ7OLsmm7r2JgmlplKTV1stFYno6BvJ1S8x9qd2wAN7WUPviMBGClxIY39zva6nGhS24Q7_5gcrlaIaS-v/s400/p.jpeg" width="311" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There is a
common trend among people. People lose confidence by thinking about their weak
aspects in many ways. For example, someone who is shy of dark or someone is
afraid to talk or mix in a new environment. The man can not be blamed for these
things. It’s his own entity. So you have to love yourself. This is the best way
to build a positive life. You have to keep this idea in mind as you are the
best. Only then anyone will have the confidence to come forward to
you . When someone loves himself, he thinks about himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Own happiness
gives priority to his life. Try to make yourself better .So stand in front of
the mirror and see whom you can see, you will be the best. We have to develop a
positive outlook in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In every life
there are some hobbies, passions. There is some good work that he loves to do.
These works save us from the busy life span. Creative people are romantic,
sunny and mentality positive because of this. Many people have started their
hobby as a career. Such as: fashion designing, paintings, music artists,
actors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chase your
own hobby in the middle of a busy routine. There will never be any boredom in
education and in the workplace. In this era of Facebook, social networking and
internet, loved ones are no more so intimate like before while Facebook friends
are friends. Remember when the last time a father-in-law, siblings sat together
with each other, where did they eat or have a story? Many would answer yes but
many would not remember. Here's the problem. We do everything in our busy life
without giving time to the family. Have you ever been told to go to a family
trip by your parents or other family members? But they are the ones who
sacrifice the most for us. So you will be good to give time and priority to the
family. Many studies have shown that those who have best family bonding are
also good at studies and profession. It is vital to know how to build a
positive attitude in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Anger is the
big enemy of us all. So learn to control anger. There are some people who
become angry for silly matters. It will damage your image on the one hand, and
if you get angry afterwards, then your guilt will work. Tension and stress
management along with anger are very important. Excessive tension adversely and
drastically affects on our body and mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Headache or Tension is
a common disease for many people. So you can do regular yoga and meditation to
reduce tension. Regular physical exercises and yoga can also be beneficial.
Sometimes you may be able to go to any psychiatrist or psychologist if you have
gone too much for depression. Medication will be useful for you to
reduce depression. We must learn how to stay positive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Eating habit
in our daily life is an important thing. Eating too much junk food or fast food
has become a trend for the younger generation. Due to its long-term
consequences, many problems arise due to overuse of fat and cholesterol. Not
only that, when there is nothing in our body that does not have the food
material needed for mental handling and development, then the natural mood will
become annoying . Our study and professional life are interrupted. So we
should eat vegetables, fruits and milk regularly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Now a days we
use mobile phones, laptops, computers and various devices frequently. We spend
most of the time by using various types of gazettes. Do we know, radiation
emitted from these devices is harmful for our body. These devices
are responsible not only for frustration but also lack of
attention. Therefore, the use of unregistered device has to be stopped. Do not
use more than one hour in the day. Do not keep mobile in your hands without
urgent need. After a month, you can understand the difference itself. If you
can do it, it will speed up your work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In this era,
the tendency of being awake and late in the morning between all and everybody
is noticed. As a result of frequent sleep disruption at night many of us miss
the morning class, many of us suffer from insomnia, mental discomfort,
depression, headache, low blood pressure problems. To get rid of this,
there must be a habit of reading at the right time and at the right time in the
morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On the way to
life, many of us have to face trouble. Some people have a disappointment with
the results of the examination. If someone suffers from family problems,
someone breaks up next in depression. Whenever you are Depression you should remember
that you are very good. Is not it less than the creator kept you better than
thousands of people?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So always try
to stay well in situations that are there. I'm fine; I do not have anything
wrong with myself. I believe it is the way to be good. A little result is
bad, or any disappointment I'm failure, I have to change this mentality of what
life will be like. Share your grief and frustration with the close people. It
will lessen your sufferings and mental agony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the era of
social media, we are not able to think of what we are doing in life. Because
every person is different and exceptional. Everyone is the best of their own.
So do not compare yourself with others, but you should be the best one like
you. Try to do better than the previous day, to work in a new venture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It has been
said that, if there are many things that you can expect, life will be a bit
better. Get up early in the morning and stand in front of the mirror. The person
you are seeing in this world will love you most. Only you can love others. You
will be able to enrich your life well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-89494073651714389882019-04-30T22:41:00.000+06:002020-05-09T10:52:59.628+06:00Trouble in Everything <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBFX4DRjkPvUJ-j-0nx4Sm9aae1trMy9kRcwyWNKxp0gUbLCfdi7vYulsI-JlfXaowzDhNUwVURb_QdGJFNFCX-13Xtxwh6xtuoi1KVv9XEDgL48DcBmWqjCsmyb3q61fbSrAfWqlkHWq/s1600/pen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBFX4DRjkPvUJ-j-0nx4Sm9aae1trMy9kRcwyWNKxp0gUbLCfdi7vYulsI-JlfXaowzDhNUwVURb_QdGJFNFCX-13Xtxwh6xtuoi1KVv9XEDgL48DcBmWqjCsmyb3q61fbSrAfWqlkHWq/s400/pen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 8pt;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 8.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Things
just keep disappearing around the house pens, for example. No matter how many
of them there used to be-red , blue ones , green ,black ,funky gel ones ,purple
ones, sooner or later they all disappear . I never understand this bizarre
vanishing act. Where do they go? A pen parallel universe? And why does this
keep happening to this particular object? It would be fine if it happened to
other unwanted objects all over the place –but that is not to be. What you
don’t want stays there, and what you need disappears. Murphy was right-things
always go wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
you have to admit, the absence of pens are especially noticeable. When you need
them you just need them. And needless to say, when you do, you cannot find a
single one in sight. A typical occurrence is when someone calls. I was hoping
to get hold of so and –so .She says, I need not say that the call is not for
me. So it is my job to play secretary. When she asks in a sweet voice if I can
pass on a message, I reply with a reluctant yet ebullient sounding “yes” She
says her name is so- and – so , it is very urgent , and leaves her
numbers. She tries to reaffirm, “Do you have this down?” She inquires. Of
course, I have not written down any of what she has said because I have neither
a piece of paper nor a pen anywhere around. I somehow manage to get hold of a
pencil with a very blunt tip and grab it and start writing down the message on
the back of the nearest piece of paper which may well be something important. I
ask her to repeat what she said as if I just want to reconfirm what I’ve
written , when I really intend to just write it for the first time ! I just
don’t understand where all the pens go, I really don’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
who cares about disappearing pens when there are such bigger problems in life.
There are problems like having to go through meals and sleep at the right time,
toothaches, backaches, headaches (courtesy of well –wishers at odd hours), nail
polish, nail polish remover, the whole nine yards. There are the bigger worries
of course, work, marriage, funeral services (since death in inevitable –as
known from empirical evidence).There are more important and crucial –to –the
–moment problems: when these happen, all others take a backseat. I’m talking
about the immediate problem of caramel getting stuck to your teeth , the need
to go the toilet when there isn’t one in the vicinity, and the urgent need for
a pen when the one you have doesn’t work .Didn’t I just say there were bigger
problems than the pen thing? Yes, I don’t make sense .I realise that. There’s
trouble in every-thing .The magnitude of trouble does not know of consistency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Everyone
is always in trouble of some form or another. When one problem is solved the
next biggest problem takes the hot seat and so on. It is impossible to be
totally free, it is impossible to be totally free, it is impossible to find all
the pens that you are looking for (just let me try and get my head around this
analogy).But it is possible to savour the fleeting moment of pure exhilaration
when you cross off priority Number I and are free from one problem even though
an infinite number of problems wait beneath it .I’m talking about the joy after
removing the sticky caramel from an inaccessible region in your mouth and being
happy at that moment even though you still have to pay off a housing loan. Let
me tell you a Nasiruddin Hojja joke that always makes me feel really good. A
wretched looking man sat with a sack tied to a rope when Nasiruddin walked up
to him. Nasiruddin asked the man why he looked so miserable .The man replied
that he was extremely poor, and of what he had, just about everything had been
stolen and the sack he carried contained his only remaining possessions. He was
so unhappy that it was almost as if he had nothing to live for as nothing could
every make him happy. After hearing this Nasiruddin picked up the man’s sack,
and stared running away with it as fast as he could. The poor man frantically
chased after him, pleading him to give it back. After a long chase, Nasiruddin
stopped and returned the man his sack. The man, who was in suicidal despair a
few minutes age, was now ecstatic at being reunited with his possessions.
Nasiruddin smugly said, “This is a way to make someone happy.” just getting it
back makes it all so much better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-4546330815202840572019-04-30T20:58:00.001+06:002020-05-09T10:48:32.264+06:00Conversations in a Coffeehouse <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLk0w8hp4dmz9DLg4MwM5Ulu-1fBt-j2cg3D4C8c4iEQGiLS1Y0IPYhIFBpcFoQ-fYgGIAIZCOK45cO_bZzGXxMhMHqcyJKSdRbG2-Qw36I9ux4W00GYCyKwYXqslQu1Kof5o0BECvdXO/s1600/cop.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1600" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLk0w8hp4dmz9DLg4MwM5Ulu-1fBt-j2cg3D4C8c4iEQGiLS1Y0IPYhIFBpcFoQ-fYgGIAIZCOK45cO_bZzGXxMhMHqcyJKSdRbG2-Qw36I9ux4W00GYCyKwYXqslQu1Kof5o0BECvdXO/s320/cop.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 8pt;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
enter the shop to be embraced by the aroma of freshly roasted coffee and
chocolate. The owner , a youngish man with neck-length brown hair , silver
rings on three fingers, dark clothes defining the grunge look, dark clothes
defining the grunge look, one born to run a coffee store, strolls out of his
office to greet me and my teammates . The interview for my retailing class
project launches as Aaron, the owner, ushers my group to sit on the cozy sofas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Aaron
Wallace has been working at coffee station for 4 years. This past October, he
purchased the store from a Kuwaiti gentleman who brewed the business. Aaron
firmly relies on buying high – quality coffee beans, and does not roast his
own, as he thinks it will lower consistence in quality. Aaron believes in value
added service, or customer orientation.”[we are] improving every semester,” he
mentions with a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">From
afar, the light- brown, rectangular wood stone shopping centre does not scream
out, “Come in!” However, the patio outside coffee station holds metal tables
and chairs that encompass a petite and amusing fountain .While inside, the
burnt –orange walls, silver and black tables, chairs on centre accompanied by a
few sofas on one end, and a diner-like sitting arrangement at the other corner
provide an inviting atmosphere. The large metal and wooden counter that
encompasses the espresso machine, frozen drink and coffee makers, and the
pastry shelf might also help bring in clientele.(so that’s what they do in coffeehouses!).An
abundance of train photographs might suggest a childhood fixation gone horribly
wrong, but this is simply a homage to the town where the business stands,
college station, named after Texas A&M University and the rail station that
dragged in the victims, I mean, students, these dual entities overlooked the
area a century back, much before the eccentric
cappuccinos rolled in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Aaron,
a native of neighbouring town Bryan, declares, “The specialty drink board has
helped growth.”These include the cappuccinos described above, cafelattes, and
so forth. On the other cup, he expresses that high quality plain coffee is what
retains regular customers. He goes further to describe the most expensive
coffee beans like Jamaica Mountain Blue, at a whopping $50 /1b.It is often
advertised as the “most delicious coffee in the world.”I tried it, and beg to
differ. During summers, half the university students leave town and notably
divide our young entrepreneur’s client base. Thus, Aaron would like to attract
more locals, and has initiated newspaper ads to entice those who do not abandon
ship on semester breaks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
interview ends, but as our project is still roasting, my team frequents coffee
station to complete our aromatic journey. Often in team projects, a head of the
clan naturally arises, in our case, tall, lean Jennifer sporting reddish brown
hair and a striking sparkle in her eyes took the crown with her effervescent,
coordinative nature. Liz and Melanie, lean blondes with a “go –get-em “attitude
served as the backbone of our task force with their ever-ready insights and
analyses. During breaks, we went to the patio to greet the spring breeze; the
others sipped coffee (what else?) while treated the tongue with Hot chai. Maybe
the Indian world for tea is used to capitalize on its burgeoning popularity ,
and an English world like tea would be too bland , old –fashioned, too…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">British.
I wonder if the chai will be another hip trend that the western fashion gurus
will toss away like the henna, or temporary tattoo, popularized by Madonna and
soon afterward parceled back to mother India. My group gabbed on daily life:
Jennifer’s upcoming wedding Liz’s job opportunities, Melanie’s engaging
sister/roommate. Often, I felt like chandler from the early days of NBC’S sitcom
friends, here I am with three beautiful young ladies in a quaint coffeehouse,
and (isn’t this great) I am just their friend!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
the curtain fell on the project, I went for a solo visit to coffee station.
From my round seat below, I could see most of the second floor, and the upward
sloping black and brown trail that leads the way. The significantly smaller
second –story stores scores of scriptures (yes , I do enjoy being annoyingly
fancy ).one of the books resting on a table upstairs Stephen king’s insomnia
,caught my eye , I wonder what this novel is doing in a shop that supplies
enough caffeine for a fraternity house showing of a French film by Jean
Cocteau? (Vain attempt to sound intellectual.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Coffeehouses
are cultural phenomena that have become an integral aspect in American culture.
From the prominent Central perk featured in NBC’S friends, to almost every
major town holding a mug hours, it is not surprising to see the coffeehouse
juggernaut star bucks earning $1 billion in merely 4 months .This institution
has made a quantum leap since the first recorded coffee shop that ran with the
ottoman empire, as the sultans savoured this drink in their potential mates’
merits based on the taste of her coffee. As the opera music illuminates the
already well –lit coffee station. I glance over at my blond tea server, and
ponder the situation. Maybe I will ask for her opinion on the ancient Turkish
custom some other time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-1620348364635962492019-04-29T23:16:00.000+06:002020-05-08T19:39:11.623+06:00Heartbroken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8lnhSeHWWjlF4C033Bjp4j9yvanxlKIcZbogckDqh5ESYfMYwfgKmJrJcuw5pSR2xreO2gj6cJu7b7Dy7C8hCA2mv42biwfcR0hZum4MFL676I5gkLTwIVXjSuSDQvXp0nlCjQvyvP1x/s1600/cp.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="867" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8lnhSeHWWjlF4C033Bjp4j9yvanxlKIcZbogckDqh5ESYfMYwfgKmJrJcuw5pSR2xreO2gj6cJu7b7Dy7C8hCA2mv42biwfcR0hZum4MFL676I5gkLTwIVXjSuSDQvXp0nlCjQvyvP1x/s400/cp.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> I did something wrong and I don't know how to fix it.
I have a very good friend who is dating a guy I liked for years. She knew I had
a crush on him, but when he started showing interest in her, she couldn't
resist and started seeing him. For many months, it made me sick to see them all
lovey- dovey together , but I tried to be mature about it and remained
her friend. I was almost beginning to think I was over him, when one day ,
after a party, when he was dropping me home after he had just dropped her off,
he kissed me. We were both a little intoxicated, but I knew what I was doing. I
felt all my old feelings him rush back and I responded so passionately , we
ended up in bed together. The next day he sent me a text apologizing for what
happened and begging me not to tell my friend. I was heartbroken but I
maintained my silence because I was ashamed of what had happened. Now,
when he sees me he acts like nothing ever happened , even when we are alone. We
never spoke about it but I am madly in love with him. His relationship with my
friend seems to even stronger after this incident and it kills me to see this.
What should I do?</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Riding Towards Freedom</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLDhDb7SNmxA8z9zbzHn5GzP97XGRXhYWXP_RjWvzGnvLBdwL8TXwCw7KGxctmjV75tt15tGC5z75CbymGhkOwtKpZ0kBYfsRxoB5grp-P7zq8FAVCEEKhMGEYS1hK6uU-RVUjpac5pcm/s1600/bk.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLDhDb7SNmxA8z9zbzHn5GzP97XGRXhYWXP_RjWvzGnvLBdwL8TXwCw7KGxctmjV75tt15tGC5z75CbymGhkOwtKpZ0kBYfsRxoB5grp-P7zq8FAVCEEKhMGEYS1hK6uU-RVUjpac5pcm/s400/bk.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I have I went to Dhorla bridge a couple days ago to spend a
holiday afternoon on the bank of the river. The place is a favourite
among the people of... for its natural beauty . As I went for a walk along the
river, I could feel the cool breeze on my face and felt very elated. There is a
large field near the river bank. Children were playing cricket and football on
the field. Grownups were also tempted to take part in a sport.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After walking a little further, I saw a couple with a child on a motor bike.
They pulled over at a corner of the field and the man was showing his wife some
techniques and a few useful tips on riding the bike. I was impressed to see
that the woman was quick learner . The child was particularly ecstatic to see
her mother riding the bike. What fascinated me most about the whole scene was
the glowing confidence of the woman. It also made me wonder if women in other
regions of the country would be allowed to ride like that.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Desperate</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCq42H3WmlW4DnmM1DC8oJSBG0ZstkFtyZVQyrRxgRQIRx8JaE3v4banYkNyLf31CQ_JF8kwPYIHdu2HCAQQATMZRCwMA8nv1y9tB_HnuXR6aoWzR8sIRsamTppqeciiHjzwGcXc6hRjnY/s1600/bab.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCq42H3WmlW4DnmM1DC8oJSBG0ZstkFtyZVQyrRxgRQIRx8JaE3v4banYkNyLf31CQ_JF8kwPYIHdu2HCAQQATMZRCwMA8nv1y9tB_HnuXR6aoWzR8sIRsamTppqeciiHjzwGcXc6hRjnY/s400/bab.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I have a strong problem. I am turning 32 this
year and I am dying to get married and have children. I think I am pretty good
looking woman, but even though many men interested to flirt with me and take me
out, not one of them want to get serious. In fact, the last two men I was
seeing both abruptly started seeing other women without even breaking up with
me properly. One of them, who insisted he wasn't ready for a
serious relationship actually dated someone else right after me and married her
within a year! This is making me wonder if there is something seriously wrong
with me. I haven't made very good decisions in the past and don't have the
perfect reputation, but I feel like I have grown up since then and am ready to
be taken seriously. I tried to ask these guys why they don't want a real
relationship with me but they seemed to avoid my question by telling me they
find me attractive, but don't want anything serious right now. What do
you think I should do about this?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Ink Disaster</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCBKumgvwb5JywO9nQ4FBmVMoclmvpUFtYvJgWSj89hXEYpYhwl4F-QpizaYpMEtTPHehvR9JyaUH7uk86qg8aHgtC3laUqRANssSdAsArK6DopS_psyLrNFm1oKdVh3hYm6T2evrIGV5/s1600/ink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCBKumgvwb5JywO9nQ4FBmVMoclmvpUFtYvJgWSj89hXEYpYhwl4F-QpizaYpMEtTPHehvR9JyaUH7uk86qg8aHgtC3laUqRANssSdAsArK6DopS_psyLrNFm1oKdVh3hYm6T2evrIGV5/s400/ink.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My friend used to be obsessed with stationery when I was at
school . Her pencil bags looked swollen , because she carried so many
pens. Of course the good side is that we never had to worry about pens if our
ones ran out of ink. She was well known among teachers as well. However, one
day a disaster happened. Our economics teacher had forgotten to bring her pen
to class, and naturally she looked at my friend. My friend gleefully handed her
pencil bag to my teacher, asking her to choose from the huge collection she
carried. Our teacher put her hand inside; not bothering whichever pen comes
out, as long as it was a pen . But when she took her hand out, we saw that her
fingers were covered in ink! She looked dumbfounded at my friend , who frowned.
The whole class had burst out into laughter by then.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-35048971122005503662019-04-29T23:08:00.000+06:002020-05-08T19:32:26.227+06:00The Cost of Indifference<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiim30dpAR0KhPj8MxBWUqO2DptXP-hMVqfE0G8cm0Qc7RYxsNztbWmzs1HIdHlbkKNbCDiACIeygbZlYnoCsYP8kCGxkD4ZP6HxS0xQ2IFFzoxEvHxfp8MlGNwO54qIbppj4wf71ePb8SL/s1600/cost.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiim30dpAR0KhPj8MxBWUqO2DptXP-hMVqfE0G8cm0Qc7RYxsNztbWmzs1HIdHlbkKNbCDiACIeygbZlYnoCsYP8kCGxkD4ZP6HxS0xQ2IFFzoxEvHxfp8MlGNwO54qIbppj4wf71ePb8SL/s400/cost.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
was walking home from my office one day when I saw a small child begging in
front of a shopping mall. He seemed tired and hungry, rushing from one person
to another begging for alms. At one point, his hand accidentally brushed
against the leg of a man, walking into the mall. The child, thinking nothing of
it, rushed to ask money from another person, when the man caught him by the
scruff and started beating him mercilessly. The guard of the mall too joined
the man in hitting helpless boy. I stopped in my tracks and asked both of them
to stop beating the poor boy. The man seemed even more furious at my
intervention and started saying that I had no right to stop him. I asked him
calmly whether he could dare to repeat his action if this were the child of a well-to-do
family. Listening to our arguments, passer-by, who till then either taking
enjoyment in the little child’s misery or walking by hurriedly, asked me to
ignore the incident and continue on my way, saying that the man made a mistake
and won’t repeat. I was shocked at the apathy presented by this people. They
were ready to be entertained by something as hideous as beating up a child but
they neither were nor ready to confront the man who committed a crime, so to
speak, because they were too scared. If ignorance and indifference is our
reaction to every evil as a society then I am sorry to say that we will have
nothing humane left in us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">The One-Armed Man</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAo5Hwq67lNo9T8cuueSm1i3gk7QISvlM4RLpG7WhWndVRPCGaQAucfMLgr8kzuQvIF7xRQgbMyRI1Bwowu2VceBDdL64Z6K52N8_mGDNzY4m1Q_dFACHHfkMWMfJKIGZ3fXT4drKghqF-/s1600/beggar.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAo5Hwq67lNo9T8cuueSm1i3gk7QISvlM4RLpG7WhWndVRPCGaQAucfMLgr8kzuQvIF7xRQgbMyRI1Bwowu2VceBDdL64Z6K52N8_mGDNzY4m1Q_dFACHHfkMWMfJKIGZ3fXT4drKghqF-/s400/beggar.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
other day I was going to Agrabad to my aunt’ by bus. It was noon, and the bus
was crowded. Traveling by bus in ....during the summer is never comfortable. I
was trying to divert my attention by looking out of the window. At one point of
the journey, a one-armed man mounted the bus, and was asking for alms. The man
was in his thirties, and he was carrying a small child with him. As usual
people did not want to help him, and some were even criticizing him for not
working for a living. With tears in his eyes, the man answered
poignantly,"Everybody blames me for not working, though I am quite young.
But nobody offers me a job. Who would offer a one-armed man any work? I lost my
harm in an accident while working in a factory, and now I am completely
useless. Even by selling my blood, I cannot feed my child for two days. What
else do you expect me to do?” The man’s story really touched me
along with the other passengers. This incident makes me wonder about the
situation of our country. With the price of necessities rising every day, what
will the poor do? Even the price of their blood is not enough to feed their
family members.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Prince Charming in the Manhole</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfogpIMYTM2knEVfJDYTWiTiss9gebfZZr5dRJbNk14njyh_02Rg9hQ8ulC6_liZAIKrCcbsDEitq4mhk-P2Ve60NIGifHXlXbx6qmF8EQdy-njRC_SbvvGDS5rdWehsaM6JmpQ8QfKWqk/s1600/manhole.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfogpIMYTM2knEVfJDYTWiTiss9gebfZZr5dRJbNk14njyh_02Rg9hQ8ulC6_liZAIKrCcbsDEitq4mhk-P2Ve60NIGifHXlXbx6qmF8EQdy-njRC_SbvvGDS5rdWehsaM6JmpQ8QfKWqk/s400/manhole.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">One
morning I was in a rush to go to school so I was really walking fast. But
before I get into my story I would like to mention one mention one thing, which
is the day before it was pouring like anything and there was a puddle right in
front of my school. So, as I rushed forward to reach my school I accidentally
slipped on a banana peel and fell into the puddle of water. Right at that
moment, I saw my biggest crush walking towards the gate and I instantly got up
to make sure no one saw me. However, he did see me and to my amazement he came
to my rescue like a knight in shining armour. Ashe was walking forward; he did
not notice and instead of helping me, fell into a manhole! I did not know what
to do, whether to help him or not, instead I burst out giggling and laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">The Mystery with the Pen</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0qnaSSxZsch1F4GH0ydAkMDaj57t5wxZ3YDi38piR8c_2GQUOzxGKMul2ioYuEc6T9jsQWzS3lYV26CyyLIWJ0f_f2hGeFHq-buN5G7-K8vM0UJIwyFUhOTR37M8vrJUH76QkfVlnsBz/s1600/penn.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0qnaSSxZsch1F4GH0ydAkMDaj57t5wxZ3YDi38piR8c_2GQUOzxGKMul2ioYuEc6T9jsQWzS3lYV26CyyLIWJ0f_f2hGeFHq-buN5G7-K8vM0UJIwyFUhOTR37M8vrJUH76QkfVlnsBz/s400/penn.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">There
was a six feet tall figure in our school known as “still body”. He was a
faculty personal and he used to check our uniform every morning. One day he asked
me about my ID card, because i did not have it that day. I had to make up some
excuse and get away with it. But instead he stopped me and said, “Fhen”. I
could not understand him and did not even bother to, as getting away from him
was more important. As he saw no response from me, he again said, “Fhen”. This
time I had no choice but say “OK” only to make him feel that he was clear to
me. I was just about to move away, when for the third time he
said, “Fhen”. Then he waved a page at me and finally I
understood what he meant! He was actually looking for a pen from me so that he
could write my name and keep it as a record because I did not bring my ID card!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Sun for Sauna</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"> image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Summer
here is quite extreme. The days during this season are not like one of those
days where one would want to enjoy the sun because, even if they try to, the
post reaction to the hot sun would be nothing but skin burns. Like every other
hot sunny day, my friends and I were hanging out at a small tea stall after
school. We were talking about our regular subjects when all of a sudden , Paul
, a friend of ours who is a bit on the heavier side , started complaining about
how he has been trying to lose weight , but keeps failing all the time. He kept
on complaining for days till we would pay any attention to his “Big” problem.
However, that day, one of my other friends, who got sick and tired of his
complaints, suggested him to wrap himself up in two big blankets and run around
the roof around the hot sun in the afternoon. We all knew that he was being
sarcastic, but poor Paul thought that the idea might not be that bad. The next
day he came over, all puffed up and red with skin rashes with absolutely no
change in his weight. We all knew what he had done and could not help but
laugh!<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-65802617064898593662019-04-29T22:51:00.000+06:002020-05-08T19:09:50.986+06:00A Knock to Bang<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCx7cJ8Wm_m47av4xZSAHpAcXIm7M9CWQJoGXpP-0rWPAOU2MHds8jepmK5F1Boj3wuOI2vCNiZ1LeZzNJ3J5ifzHOZ43e0fTUNPZDA6PBpg7uglkAOxEjAUUvPCmQLc-sXVm8l2LZAU6/s1600/carr.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCx7cJ8Wm_m47av4xZSAHpAcXIm7M9CWQJoGXpP-0rWPAOU2MHds8jepmK5F1Boj3wuOI2vCNiZ1LeZzNJ3J5ifzHOZ43e0fTUNPZDA6PBpg7uglkAOxEjAUUvPCmQLc-sXVm8l2LZAU6/s400/carr.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
was on my way to work the other day and as usual stuck in a long , never-ending
traffic jam. While waiting, I was accosted by several beggars. Some went
away after I politely told them I had no change to spare, there was one,
who kept standing next to my car window, knocking hard; and I was
worried that the glass would break. When I shouted at him to stop , he started
making lewd comments about my appearance and made several rude hand gestures at
me which made me loose my temper and demand that my driver do something
about it. I thought if my driver got out of the car , he would be scared enough
to walk away but to my surprise he wouldn't . He showed my driver right
back and kept staring at me. I was very angry at the time, but afterwards
, when I thought about it, I realised that it is possible that very soon
most of the poor on the street will start becoming more persistent and violent
as inequality in this society is increasing, bringing with it more
hopelessness, frustration and anger. It is worrying to think about future.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"> Shoes Speak</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKviJktFoq0q9_7mT3ioLBjAWiBhmnt3zY8c7qDmil7LeSSaGxXRdZbZGEQfitLu8CMFhhUaXSM8hOXIQ2o3oXWHFD9naGXkaw9hNl1psrR7ybF780YLVsyzcZotrb6t2JbXbhdhRZjsco/s1600/shoe.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="867" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKviJktFoq0q9_7mT3ioLBjAWiBhmnt3zY8c7qDmil7LeSSaGxXRdZbZGEQfitLu8CMFhhUaXSM8hOXIQ2o3oXWHFD9naGXkaw9hNl1psrR7ybF780YLVsyzcZotrb6t2JbXbhdhRZjsco/s400/shoe.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Considering
the horrendous traffic situation of the city , I prefer public transport and do
not use my car, if I can help it. Last week , I hopped on a bus from ...to go
home . The moment I got in, a couple of passengers approached me and began to
mumble an apology. It took me a while to understand that they were explaining
why they were traveling without tickets. Although I consciously believe that no
work is big or small and that there is dignity in every profession, I must
admit that I felt a little indignant at their honest mistake ."Please tell
me what made you think that I was a ticket collector," I asked them. They
laughed and apologized again , but chose not answer my question . A similar,
but even more awkward thing happened in the same week : I was taking a friend
to a restaurant for dinner when the security people thought I was her chauffeur
and told me to wait outside. I was baffled, but my friend laughed and told me
later that it was my shoes that gave a wrong impression everywhere.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Astonishing Honesty</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2dpOqhmKvuHxsQ6NCFbPjhf2fDG_xFzgvPWFbeE7EYocwZNjpwah01Xq9p0surwqu8n_h3wHxlF64_I55WYK5KSmppgH-PkPfEjcSvVDTxixxW7xxVw35aK5x45vUSLHTZKud6zMSIcp/s1600/inj.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="1600" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2dpOqhmKvuHxsQ6NCFbPjhf2fDG_xFzgvPWFbeE7EYocwZNjpwah01Xq9p0surwqu8n_h3wHxlF64_I55WYK5KSmppgH-PkPfEjcSvVDTxixxW7xxVw35aK5x45vUSLHTZKud6zMSIcp/s400/inj.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">A few
days ago, I went to the cinema with some friends where I lost my wallet at the
entrance. I had around five thousand taka cash in the wallet. I was so upset
and worried that I barely watched the movie . When the movie ended and I was on
my way out , a shabby looking man asked me whether I had lost anything .
Surprised , I told him about my lost wallet and he said he had found it and
recognized me from a photo in my wallet . I found the cash intact when he
handed to me . This person was selling tickets in black in front of the
cinema hall. Usually we think such kind of people are supposed to be unscrupulous
. But this particular man overcame his creed and his honesty and touch with
humanity astonished me. Most people, perhaps, wouldn't have taken the trouble
to return something precious that actually belonged to someone else.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">Harassment Through Facebook</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRr1kA5fTnTQPHNDXtGIybzOq2DbawbQS-fpk4S6q5AurqOYbjl7p1ZZ5WN6EWdYJmrtBEMl2GJlSu68s70zZAxjV7uUJLq4Z-ms9RcTIi_d723aZsAFgenDWJIa48TRdjpQ6oKELahIB/s1600/face.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRr1kA5fTnTQPHNDXtGIybzOq2DbawbQS-fpk4S6q5AurqOYbjl7p1ZZ5WN6EWdYJmrtBEMl2GJlSu68s70zZAxjV7uUJLq4Z-ms9RcTIi_d723aZsAFgenDWJIa48TRdjpQ6oKELahIB/s400/face.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I feel
sorry for those teachers who have Facebook groups against their names. The
other day as I signed into my Facebook profile I found myself tagged in a
photo.The tagged photo was my friend, who is a teacher in a reputed English
medium school . When I was about to comment on the photo, to my utter shock I
found a lot of unwanted and cheap comments made by other people who were
also tagged in the photo . I called and informed my friend about this, to
which she replied that it's her students who had done this and there are a few
other groups on her name created by the students. These students encourage
other students to post all types of indecent comments to make fun of the
teachers they don't like. Although few of the groups are closed by now, the
school authority can not take any punitive measure as the creator of such
groups remain anonymous. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="background: white; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;">In The Hope of Enlightenment</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M5bLl62Dd5j27P62sXgyJK4gseKW4dgMOUzfurDr5rbAlbK_YVT9ysWEfErZ7Rn7W0-5JpDKPzhuK1E5azuK5WwLoGnlkmDRKDKLGqOLAS1PGwKC3YhTKad7vUDtZ23AwP5uyScIFTvo/s1600/babb.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M5bLl62Dd5j27P62sXgyJK4gseKW4dgMOUzfurDr5rbAlbK_YVT9ysWEfErZ7Rn7W0-5JpDKPzhuK1E5azuK5WwLoGnlkmDRKDKLGqOLAS1PGwKC3YhTKad7vUDtZ23AwP5uyScIFTvo/s400/babb.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Nowadays when
On one evening I was going to .....by ...bound bus from.....There was
unbearable traffic congestion on the road. So, after reaching ....I decided to
walk the rest of the way to .....As I walked by ....I noticed that two kids,
who lived by the lake with their parents, were reading books in the light of
lamp posts. People like me who were passing them were as astonished as I was to
see their enthusiasm for study. Despite my desire to talk to them, I could not
stay there for long. I just want to say that these kids are like our brothers .
They have dreams just like us they also want to be educated .We have a
responsibility toward them. In my teaching life I have seen many students who
never concentrated on their studies . Their parents had to resort to energy
drinks like "Complan and Horlics" to increase their kids
concentration. Teachers are hired to tutor these kids in every subject . I
suggest that those parents who spend lots of money on their kids' education to
take their children to those poor kids who after working or begging all day
long, try to continue studying in the dim light of a lamp post. I urge people
who feel that they have a responsibility toward society to bring these poor
children into light. Let their potential be explored. Who knows some of these
kids might one day turn out to be next Ishar Chandra Vidyasagar?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3069797353352272316.post-17020027667617599992019-04-29T19:59:00.000+06:002020-05-08T19:00:29.621+06:00Natasha and Anna<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCVU5NQyxGmXO1oI413b8mfMn-24kAA8nrE-h1AgZv61_H8G2n9BFMKln6A5g0b8ST4eDSiCvh1GnJsoy-h4e3bTL6T2CP6hVJmgl6Ha_Ge9Hz_PIyiwB2sKgviCPb4JvGUIoeisalN6Q/s1600/anna.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCVU5NQyxGmXO1oI413b8mfMn-24kAA8nrE-h1AgZv61_H8G2n9BFMKln6A5g0b8ST4eDSiCvh1GnJsoy-h4e3bTL6T2CP6hVJmgl6Ha_Ge9Hz_PIyiwB2sKgviCPb4JvGUIoeisalN6Q/s400/anna.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> </span><span style="text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Natasha
Dimitri paced up and down her verandah. She kept repeating to herself ‘Why does
he not come? Oh, why is he so late?’ She was waiting for Boris, her beloved
Boris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Natasha
loved very few people in the world, only two to be exact; her elder sister Anna
and Boris. Natasha had first seen Boris when she was eight and he sixteen, it
had been love at first sight for her .As the years rolled by , her love for him
grew stronger and stronger, fueled by the belief that he was meant for her and
that he too felt the same way about her .Natasha loved him with all the passion
her heart was capable of . He was her true love, her secret love, her
everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Most
people thought Natasha strange. She felt things with such intensity that she
made people around her feel uneasy. There was and would never be any medium for
Natasha .In truth even her parents were a little afraid of her volatile nature.
‘She has an artistic temperament,’ her mother would say trying to quell her
worries regarding her younger daughter’s overwhelming passionate nature. In
return, Natasha’s father would retort, ‘She’s spoilt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Of
course they never dared to say anything in front of Natasha. But Natasha sensed
their disapproval and could not careless Natasha held all the world in
contempt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Except
of course Anna and Boris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Anna
was the only person in the house hold who sympathized with Natasha and although
her own plodding nature was vastly different from Natasha’s, she loved her
tenderly. Anna was intelligent enough to make no attempt to understand Natasha,
Knowing it would be useless; instead she loved her the way she was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Natasha
understood, was grateful and repaid that love with a love double in intensity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That
night Natasha worked herself into a frenzy of disappointment and worry at
Boris’s tardiness .Every Wednesday Boris had dinner at the Dimitri household.
It was an obligation that he fulfilled punctually and eagerly. His late father
and Natasha’s father had been the best of friends and when his father had died
Natasha’s father had paid for Boris’s upkeep. In consequence Boris paid every
person in the Dimitri family every possible attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
this particular Wednesday Boris did not come. Natasha went down to dinner and
fought back tears of anger when she saw Boris empty chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Where
is Boris, Papa? She questioned father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘I
am not certain. He told me he was busy and could not come today.’ her father
replied genially.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘What
could possibly be more important ban dining with us? Natasha demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">To
this her father did not reply and Natasha remained broodingly silent throughout
the rest of the meal. When dinner was finished Natasha ran to her room. Flung
herself on the bed and proceeded to cry stormily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Eventually
her tears dried. Then She took up a glass of hot milk to Anna .This had been a
nightly ritual for years. Natasha always took up a glass of hot milk to Anna
and then the two girls would talk for hours on end together. They would confide
in each other, gossip together and laugh together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
that night Natasha was in no mood for confidences, gossip or laughter. She was
too angry at Boris’s neglect of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Natasha,
‘began Anna hesitantly after some time’ I could not help but see how
disappointed you were when Boris did not come tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Natasha
cut Anna off abruptly.’I don’t want to talk about it.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘But’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Anna
please’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8yzJI_Yq6UI-GPOABv7rtFHk10HpyZgINgUWuGQ2Fm2ZhAqqAGhGzh_VxbIDTV7DDVGzPBWuie8yoOfrnOYYYnhTtfsJKnfXTHNPjic0S1D6mKd4eb_ocYEi0Uv8ALDg8Il6nP5smj11/s1600/nat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8yzJI_Yq6UI-GPOABv7rtFHk10HpyZgINgUWuGQ2Fm2ZhAqqAGhGzh_VxbIDTV7DDVGzPBWuie8yoOfrnOYYYnhTtfsJKnfXTHNPjic0S1D6mKd4eb_ocYEi0Uv8ALDg8Il6nP5smj11/s400/nat.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> </span><span style="text-align: start;">image:pexels.com</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So
Anna remained silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
next day Boris came early in the morning. When he saw Natasha his face lit up
and he stretched his hands out to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Why
did you not come yesterday?’ She queried, grasping his outstretched hands and
peering up at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘I
was busy preparing a surprise for you. Forgive me.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Of
course,’ Natasha exclaimed quickly forgetting her anger of the previous night.
‘What surprise?’ she asked eagerly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Boris
smiled fondly down at her. ‘You will find out at the ball on Saturday/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">* *
*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On
Saturday Natasha dressed carefully for the ball, knowing Boris would be there.
Her painstaking preparations were rewarded when Boris greeted her. ‘You look
lovely’, he said admiringly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That
night Boris was very attentive towards her, dancing with no one but herself and
Natasha was brimming over with happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At
dinner her father gave a toast. ‘I would like to propose a toast in honour of
my lovely daughter Anne and her wonderful fiancé Boris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Natasha
gripped the table. The colour drained from her face. The room spun and she felt
faint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Just
then Anna and Boris approached her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘How
do you like your surprise? Boris smiled at her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘I
tried to tell you on Wednesday but you would not listen. You probably thought
he was neglecting me but how you guessed we were engaged I will never know.’
Anna laughed it was supposed to be a secret. I wanted to surprise you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Yes,’
Boris continued, flashing Anna a loving look which sent a shaft of pain through
Natasha’s heart, ‘I was visiting my mother on Wednesday to tell her of our
engagement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Anna
and Boris both looked at Natasha expectantly and she rose to the occasion.
Concealing her crushing misery she kissed them both and wished them well, and
she announced the tears she shed to be tears of happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Later
Natasha and Anna talked deep into the night. Anna chattered excitedly and
Natasha listened patiently, glad to see her sister so happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
Anna began to feel sleepy Natasha kissed her and went to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
pushed at the threshold and looked back at Anna who was just beginning to drink
her milk. Natasha smiled a sad yet loving smile and thought ‘I love you too
much to spend the rest of my life hating you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
next day Anna was found dead .She had been poisoned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Life and Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409874095488301728noreply@blogger.com0