মনের কথা

সেদিন কে একজন বলছিল – “কি রে বাংলায় লেখা বন্ধই করে দিলি নাকি?”

আমি বললাম – “জানোই তো আজকাল এস ই ও, ব্লগ হিটসের এর বাজার। এরমাঝে আমার প্যানপ্যানানি বাংলা লেখা কে পড়বে বলোতো?”

“কেন রে বংপেন তো দিব্যি বাংলায় লেখে”

“কি যে বলোনা? কিসের সাথে কিসের তুলনা?”

একথা, সেকথায়, কথা হারায়, আমারও বাংলা লেখা হয়ে ওঠেনা আজ বহুকাল। এরমাঝে আমার নতুন ব্লগঠিকানা হলো, নিজের নামে। নতুন ফেসবুক পেজ হলো ব্লগের, আরো কত কি…

কিন্তু এই যে খেরোর খাতা, মনের ডায়েরি, যেখানে নিজের গল্প করব বলে এই ব্লগবকম শুরু আমার, সেখানেই আর নিজের বলা বোঝার সব থেকে স্বাবলীল ভাষায় আর কিছু লেখাই হয় না আমার।

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যারা আমার ব্লগ পড়েন তারা হয়তো জানেন যে কিছুদিন আগে আমরা একটা নতুন বাড়িতে শিফট করেছি। নিজেদের কেনা প্রথম বাড়ি। বলতে পারেন, মনের রঙ মিশিয়ে সাজানো। আজকাল কেউ বাড়িতে এলেই ঘুরে ঘুরে তাদের ঘর দেখাই – “এইটা কেমন হয়েছে বলো? আর ওইটা”।

Continue reading “মনের কথা”

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A few “Happy New Years”

Sona looked at the clock on her desk yet again. It was one of those fancy corporate gifts she had received this year on Diwali.
The clock said that only 5 minutes were left to ring in the New Year. She could hear some joyous chants and sounds of fireworks outside.
She smiled and submerged herself to finish the pending work. In her mind, she was thinking about the car she planned to gift her parents in the next 2 months. The “best employee” award also had to be taken care of again.


Mrittika enjoyed dancing. One day she dreamed of taking the centrestage. One day the world would be her stage, but as of now she had to satisfy herself by being a background dancer. She waited for her act to begin. This was one of those elite parties in the city where the who’s who visited to celebrate the new year.
It was cold outside. Everyone submerged themselves in gallons of alcohol while a few like Mrittika entertained then to make it a party to remember for the who’s who. The skimpy clothes and flashbulbs of lust were their tickets to fame on Page 3 the next day.


“Business has not been good today Raju bhai”
“Yes, hardly any sale in this holiday season too. Everything is available online these days”.
Raju said while counting his day’s earning. His son wanted to buy a new mobile phone. Kamala, his wife wanted to go for the picnic organised by a few of their neighbours. Each person needed to pay 300 rupees for the picnic.
300 Rupees – a figure that his sale of posters and canvases during this entire festive season had failed to achieve. He had set up a small roadside shop near Victoria Memorial. Thousands thronged the place everyday during the winters, but few bought the pictures.
He needed the money. He had promised his family to bring home the money in return of their permission to be absent during this time when the entire city indulged in being happy.
Raju wanted that money to buy a smile for his family.