ভাইফোঁটা

- তোমাকে ফোঁটা দিলে তুমি কি দেবে?

- কিচ্ছু না...

- সেকি কেন?

A Loss called Home

It has been a long day today - she thought in her mind - waving her hand mindlessly in the direction of the stray autos that whizzed her past on the highway. Some had passengers, some went empty, some didn't want to take one as they announced their close of day to themselves. Close of day it was, as the hand of the watch crossed eight and steadily moved closer to nine as did the colour of the sky, from dark to darker. 

It indeed was one of those days that she couldn't wait to go home.

As with every regular day, she finally had her turn of luck with transport after the usually long and impatient wait-time, and cutting through the ruthless traffic and the foul traffickers of the city, she finally reached in front of their community gate and heaved a sigh of relief.

Home, ah! Home. Finally.

My “Room”

Now I know - it’s consistent. The hallucination bit.

Last time when I was put to sleep, medically, I had had a strange experience. Strange - in lack of a better word. Strange - to make it brief. Strange - to not confuse myself again, perhaps.

Yes, it was the time I gave birth. The first time I was put to sleep, medically.

Shubho Bijoya!

- Not done!

- Why?

- Well, you know!

- What?

- Why can't I do the kolakuli I want most?

- Do!

- What rights do I have?

- I grant you the right.

- And for how long?

- Until you want to free yourself.

- Sigh.

- What?

- Well, that's for me. And for you?

- Grant me the right.

- I do.

- What?

- I grant you all the right that I have left with myself.

- Shubho Bijoya.

- Shubho Bijoya, dearest.

Orkut... Au Revoir!

I lived a life in Orkut. Looking back, I can even call it a lifetime in its own. I found friends, soulmates, anchors. I found people who I then thought I can never live without.

Sigh! Some stayed, some went, some, I left. But orkut did shape the me that I am now!

RIP, friend.

But Orkut Friends, we'd rock still, won't we? :)

Of confessions...

Google had once played a game. I don't know who coded it, if at all. But that, that game, had coded my life. I believed it to be destiny.

I surrendered to it. In the richest and the poorest form of submission that has ever been.

Sigh!

Destiny, it was. But how!

এখনও আছে আগুন

ক্লান্ত ছিলে।

ছায়া দিতে চেয়ে
বনস্পতি সেজেছি,
নিবিড়ে ঢেকেছি শুকনো কাঠ খড় যত
স্নিগ্ধতায়।

কল্পতরু সেজেছি
তোমার জন্য।

নিজেকে বদলে 
নিয়েছি -
নিজেকে ছেঁকে 
দিয়েছি -

সাজিয়েছি নারীর সাজে
নিজেকে।

কারণ -
পুরুষ ডাকটা আজও তোমার বড় প্রিয়।

দুর্বল বলে ভুল করো নি তো, তুমি?

অসহায় ভেবে -
অথবা, নেহাতই মূর্খ?

করো না ভুল।

আমার এই রূপ -
আমার স্বেচ্ছারোপিত,
জেনো।

জেনো,
এখনো বারুদ জমে আছে -
এখনো আছে আগুন।

জেনো,
এখনো জ্বালিয়ে দিতে পারি আসমুদ্র -
পারি, দাবানল।

অথবা,
আপাদমস্তক -
নিজেকে,
এবং -
তোমাকে।

শুধু ভালোবাসাকে আমি আজও ঈশ্বর মনে করি।

করবও - আজীবন।

আর তাই,

বাসবো আবারও ভালো -
তোমাকেই,

এবারে - আগুন নিয়ে।

HOK...HOK...HOKKOLOROB

A day spent almost entirely on Facebook and television, sobbing, wiping tears.

Tears of pride, tears of joy. Of hope. And all that.

We are. We still are.

Oh that simple yet boldest revelation!

We may not be safe. We never would be. But then, there will be people. I am still sobbing, whispering this to myself to sleep.

Thank you, Us! Thank you!

#hokkolorob

PS: This day will go down in history. It will.