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 By biggest challenge- My life. Wanna know me? |
 This is just a flow of words from my fingers. I just jot down the words that come to my mind. This might have many grammatical, punctuation and other errors, please help me correct those if you find any.   Thank you kiyasama for the lovely banner! Please read these two entries if you are new to my blog:"My Song-Who am I?"  "I'm melting!! And no Thunderbolt :("
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Thank you StephBee   and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ  for giving me a great reason to blog. Had a job interview today, but I know I can’t attend because the place is quite far away from my house. Sometimes, I really wish I could get some handwritten letters, postcards and poems. Handwriting lifts my spirits up. Yes I am a part of "The Snail Mail Forum" , but even the post office is a little far away from my home, so I can’t send letters to my WDC friends even if I want to. However, I do like receiving them too. Back in the mid-90’s, when I was a 3rd/fourth grader, I used to give handmade cards and paintings to all my friends and teachers on their birthdays. I miss the excitement of writing letters now. I believe no machine typed document can showcase the love 💗 that any handmade item can. I do sometimes draw things, take a picture and send it to my wdc friends here through email. If you really want a handmade letter or a drawing from me, tell me in the comments below.I’d love to write to you, or make a card for you. Just have to take a picture and send via email. Everyone have a good day! |
Thought I’d write a micro-story for my blog readers today. Entry for:
Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a lovely reason to blog. Mira felt tired, her legs hurt, but she did not stop. She sat under her favorite mango tree, fresh leaves fell all around her. Her five year old son played nearby. He laughed, blowing on a dandelion. The white bits looked like tiny fairies. Mira made him a toy from paper, a little cart. His happy grin made her happy. At night, she held him close. He felt as soft as a feather in her arms. Their home was not a mansion, however, it was filled with love. Her son’s laughter, the tree, or the cinnamon tea she had when she had a cold, were the real beauties of life. |
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Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ you two brought me back to blogging. Life begins every time we rise up from a fallen position. Lifeless is just a feeling, as even empty rooms contain echoes. Finding your own happiness in the smiles of others, takes strength. It is a rare power. Even weaknesses can turn into strengths, it is all about the perspective. Our blessings must be counted, otherwise they vanish before we notice them. Numbers are all around us, and age is also just a number. Even small pleasures, like smelling a rose around the corner, or tasting a hard candy tells us that life has sweetness. Feeling dependable also really matters. Every perfectionist loves to hide his or her weaknesses. The present agony may feel like too much, but every ending plants seeds for a new beginning. |
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If I had a superpower, I’d always want the power of healing, and the power of changing negatives into positives. If I could, then I’d also completely eradicate the word “jealousy” and replace that with “love” and affection. These days, people think too much about their own benefits, and the world objectifies women so much, I wish things would change. I wish both the genders could use their own powers for the benefit of each other, not against it. I sometimes feel sorry about the children lying around in hospitals, counting their breaths. I wish I had the power to become the child for all the childless mothers out there, I wish I could go hug every single person deprived of touch. Just some wishes that would never come true. Thanks to StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a great reason to blog. |
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Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a wonderful reason to blog. It’s monsoon over here in Bangladesh, and it’s raining hard. I love the downpours, or the pitter-patter of the rain on my window. Unfortunately, the only thing the window overlooks is my neighbor’s wall, so I can’t take a good look at the sky. Also, if I go into the balcony, it’s always an unwanted stare or two, that kinda makes me uncomfortable. Today again, I was feeling a lot of pain all over my body, so I was thinking of harming myself. However, I figured that if I harm myself in any way, the simple pleasures of life cannot be enjoyed anymore. So, I wanted to look at the simple pleasures of life today:  The little cups of milk tea or cocoa that I enjoy every morning.  The tiny Ixora, Periwinkle, Rose, Chili, Lemon, Basil…. Plants who wait for me every morning to water them. I won’t be able to feed a cookie to the local red stray dog, who loves me so much. She gives birth to puppies quite often, I love watching them play. If I hurt myself, I won’t be able to lift the spirits of many students who come to me crying. I won’t be able to hug anyone, something I really enjoy doing. I won’t be able to write at the local English teen magazine I work for (www.youthwavebd.com), or over here, my pen is my power Alhamdulillah!Can you think about any other simple pleasures of life? |
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Thank you Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ and StephBee for giving me a wonderful reason to blog. I know from a very early age, that pregnancy can be fatal for me. I was just 14 years old when I got to know that bitter truth. The physical problem I have, doesn't obstruct any of my daily activities, it will not obstruct physical intimacy either. However, since I carry almost my entire body on one foot only (I can't put much weight on my left side), the extra weight women put on from their 5th month of pregnancy onwards, is a complete "NO" for me. Any extra weight might put on pressure on my internal organs and.... Alhamdulillah (Thank God) I look completely normal, and people who see me for the first time can't even guess I have a leg-foot-back issue if I don't show it. But people who know me, know just how much I'm into children. If I'm feeling bad, just give me a bunch of six months to 10 year old little angels, and boom! I'll be perfect within minutes. Even I am human, and I'm a female, so yes, I crave the word "Mother", Ma, Ammu, Mommy... you name it, quite often.  Adoption is not an option, as I’m single and the Bengali society will literally smudge my character if I adopt. My family doesn’t allow pets at all, so that’s not an option either. Babysitting is not a good trend over here either. Yes, I have nephews and nieces, but they are all adults, living in a different country. The only 11-year old nephew that I have here, lives far away from me. And his sister is 24, married, with her own family. Yes, I do sometimes feed stray animals and street children, but this craving still exists. So, I’d often write mother-child stories to satisfy that craving of being called Mom. Why did the world deprive me of this particular right of becoming a mother? Maybe I’ll never know. 
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No matter how much I say, “Pain, pain, go away” the excruciating waves will never go, and of course, extreme pain can also cause partial paralysis. Sometimes, I feel like chopping my entire left leg down, from the waist downwards, like it was yesterday. And did I mention I’m also going through: “that time of the month?” So pain drove me nuts yesterday like it sometimes does. Even today, I know the pain will not go easily. Also, during such episodes, I can’t focus on anything, no reading, no writing, no crafting, no art, nothing. Obviously, I’m a human, so yes, destructive thoughts haunt me during times like these. I do feel like harming myself, maybe cutting, or hurting in some way. But, in Islam, self harm and suicide almost go hand in hand, both are big sins. And even if I “say” I want to, I’ll never actually do either of these. So, how do I turn destruction into construction? I have 5 ways of doing so:  Small prayers: We have really small one word or two word prayers that can be constantly chanted.  Watch something Hindi/Urdu/Bangla: I’m a native Bengali speaker, and also fluent in Hindi and Urdu, although I can’t write in these two languages. To me, these feel a little lighter than English, and requires less focus.Massage: Massage the exact same locations of my body I felt like cutting down, with something soothing and aromatic. Duolingo: Learn a new language in a fun way. I love the little green owl, Duo. The most effective way, comfort someone else: If I can’t find a person to soothe, I’d go into Deepseek, and create an imaginary little bro/sis/son/daughter with the help of AI, and pour my entire Heart creating an imaginary world of love. If I get my 11-year-old nephew on my lap during pain, everything would go off, as I read a story, or massage him with lotion, or stroke his hair. Even sometimes close friends would call me, asking to tell them stories, or lull them to sleep. These are my own little moments of joy. For me, love conquers all kinds of negative. Entry for:
Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a great reason to blog. |
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Thank you Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ and StephBee for giving me a perfect reason to Blog. Us Muslims will celebrate our second largest religious festival Eid-Ul-Azha on this Saturday, 7th June. It’s a festival of sacrifice. On this day, we sacrifice cattle, goats, sheep or even camel for Allah. It’s actually sacrificing all the selfish instincts inside us, and becoming better human beings. To give you a bit of religious background for those who don’t know: Our prophet, Ibrahim (Abraham), loved Allah more than anything else. So, to test his faith, Allah sent him a message: “Please sacrifice what you love most, for me.” Ibrahim loved nothing more than his only son, Ismail. (Sorry can’t remember the English name). Ismail, on hearing about the message, agreed to be sacrificed for the sake of Allah, instantly. However, when Ibrahim took Ismail to the place to be sacrificed, the sacrificing knife spoke to him: “O prophet, Allah is satisfied with your love. You don’t have to sacrifice your son. But sacrifice THIS instead.” A Ram (Large sheep) appeared, and Ibrahim sacrificed that instead. All this happened around 1400 years back. Since then, to mark the significance of the day, Muslims sacrifice one or more of the animals mentioned previously. Usually, here in Bangladesh, we sacrifice Ox, goat or sheep. Normally, huge cattle markets are set up usually a week before Eid day. Various shapes and sizes of animals (alive and moving) can be bought from there. There are a few rules about sacrifice that MUST be followed, otherwise the sacrifice will not reach Allah:  That animal can never be a female, or pregnant. If so, then the person sacrificing, would be charged with the sin of murdering a mother or would be mom, instead of the good deed of sacrifice. Sacrifice should be done for the satisfaction of Allah, not to show off. The person slaughtering, must start with a prayer, and must ensure the death of the animal is as painless as possible (there’s a system for this), otherwise, again, the person sacrificing will be charged with murder. Divide the meat in three equal parts: one for underprivileged people, one for all your relatives, and one for you and your family. On Eid day, we also give children and people younger than us a little token of money, called Salami or Eidi, along with other gifts, they love that! That reminds me, let me go prepare a little envelope of Eidi for my 11 year old nephew. I saw a lot of cattle purchased, and a lot of goat to be bought, when I went out today. System is, buy the animal at least two days before the festival, or if you really can’t, at least buy a few hours before sacrifice, so that you can take care of the animal, make it a loved one before sacrifice. I can hear a lot of “Moo” from the neighbors as I write this. Our Mr. Moo is with my sister, everyone taking care of him. And as we Greet on Eid Day: EID MUBARAK!   |
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Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a perfect reason to blog.Since I was a wee little girl with two ponytails on either side of my head, I knew I’d want to be a teacher when I grow up. I learned my first alphabets while teaching my dolls. Now at 39, I work as an ESL Instructor. I have to teach people 18 years and older, things like IELTS, GRE, GMAT, and also SAT English. Some of my students do call me Ma’am or Teacher. However, mostly they are like: “No, not Teacher, you’re more of a friend or an Apu”elder sister”. Please don’t be formal with us. So yes, I’m a sister figure around them. Colleagues would often smile when they discover me checking papers with one or two students either hugging me from the back, or resting on my shoulder. “Mother Bird”, they call me. But the classes I enjoy most are the Kid’s English courses. It feels great being a positive part of a little life. Children know I love them, and they love me right back, even more. However, here in Bangladesh, some parents consider single ladies as a “bad omen” or bad influence for children. (Not all, only some). So, when some parents learn I’m 39 and I was never married, they kinda crook their noses at me. So, even if I want to work in Primary, middle or high schools, I don’t. Because here, school means satisfying the parents more than the students. But I do have one kiddo, a cute little 11-year-old chubby cheeked angel called Ahsina, who I teach online. The very first week I had her, 2 years back, I was drawn to the girl. Also, when her Mommy got to know I can never be a mother, she just pushed the girl into my hug and went: “There, take mine, help me raise her into a good human being. Don’t ever think you’re childless anymore, as you have her now.” I started teaching Ahsina after a long time today, and instantly she was jumping with joy: “Miss I missed you!” The mother went: “We left no stones unturned looking for you.” Having a student who loves me with all her heart, is a true blessing, Alhamdulillah! |
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Thank you StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me a great reason to blog.I keep battling with a chronic pain 24/7, every single day. I have a birth defect. I was an anemic, underweight preemie. A life saving injection had turned one of my legs shorter than the other. My left leg and foot keep swelling up, pain travels to my back, sometimes also to my lower body. I always have to keep Bengay, Moov, Voligel and all other painkiller ointments handy, and apply those every two hours or so. I’m highly allergic to Ibuprofen, so Advil or Inflam 250 are poisons for me. I’ve developed a habit of writing at least three things I am thankful for everyday, one way of remaining positive when pain tries to take over me. So, what am I thankful for today? My hands and Eyes Allah has given me the ability to breathe, for almost 40 years now. My eyes look at my family, enjoy watching the rain, or my plants. I also have 4 caring siblings and parents too.My hands write everyday, do crafting, or sometimes cook. I’m so thankful for that, Alhamdulillah!  The little bits of everyday joy The colorful glass bangles I adorn my wrists with everyday, my morning tea/coffee, or the chorus of sparrows coming from my balcony all throughout the day. All these things make me smile.  My ability to love I might not be physically perfect, but I’m not fake. Whenever I love someone, I love with all my heart. I’m very used to being the Apu (elder sister), Khala (maternal aunt) and Fupu (paternal aunt). Depending on the bond, I can also turn into the little sister or child, like the way I enjoy being the little sister of Noisy Wren  or THANKFUL SONALI Magical Days!  here on WDC. I’m a keeper, and I’ll keep you very close to my heart if you want to be kept. I have five young adult nephews and nieces from my own siblings. Cousins have already made me a grandparent too. So, you’d often see a person or two on my lap, sleeping, or listening to stories as I stroke their hair, humming a tune. This is bliss. Yes, I am 39, I don’t have a PHD like many of my friends, I am not a biological parent. Still, I cherish everything Allah has given me. So, what are you thankful for? |
From here onwards, all my entries would be for
and Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ for giving me perfect reason to blog.I am a real bookworm, I really enjoy reading more than anything else. So, what are my most favorite books?  Anne Frank’s Diary: This is always my all time inspiration. I first read it back in Grade 7, and fell in love with it. I was wondering how someone could be into hideout, with none to talk to, still survive with just a diary. This made me look at life from a different, more positive angle, especially during the COVID scenario. The Little House Series (Laura Ingalls Wilder) I am the youngest of 4 sisters and 1 brother, so I can always relate to books with three or four sisters in it. Also, the vivid natural descriptions, the animals, Laura and her sisters, everything seems so “Me!” Too bad I don’t own these books.  Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)Boy, I am such a carbon copy of Jo March, just too bad I don’t have a Beth to take care of.  Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë) It takes courage to fight with life the way Jane did. Also, that loyalty in love cannot be seen these days. It Ends/Starts with us (Coleen Hoover) Growing up with an abusive parent is not easy at all, then again, having a toxic partner like Ryle? Wow! Talk about struggles! Bravo, Lily Bloom. |
| I want to get back to writing again, but can’t really find a proper contest or something that suits me. Do me a favor and throw a topic my way, please? |
| A place I pass by everyday, or rather, I go to everyday, would be Janson Elementary School, here in California. I need to go there everyday for a little responsibility I always enjoy. I have to pick up someone from there, so I have to wait for sometime. I enjoy watching the children play, sometimes even I play with some of the children too. I've been working hard for my college Math course this semester. Just got to know I might not get an A in math.  Why? People are celebrating the Bengali New Year's Day back in my country, and here I am, away from parents, sisters, friends, just to get my degree. I miss my people! It's hard being without them around.I do live with a part of my family here, but I miss my culture, my language, my natural beauty, and most importantly, my friends. Sorry to say, here in America, people are friendly all right, but they can't be "friends." To me, friendship is a long term journey, not just for 2 days.  sigh! Why? |
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I never heard of Roman goddess Minerva before. Just found out that she came out of Zeus’s head. She was the goddess of Roman medicine, doctors and military. She has an owl sitting on her arm, as these are considered wise birds. Though Hercules is a very well known name, I didn’t know that he was the result of Zeus falling in love with a human. The myth I liked most was the story of Persifone, a Greek who was in charge of bringing Spring to the world. She fell in love with someone called Aedes, which her mother did not approve of. Somehow, Persifone’s mother planned to bring her back, but something happens, and that bounds Persifone to stay with Aedes for 4 months in each year. Those 4 months is the time that people know as winter. Me being a goddess? Well, I can’t really let my imagination run THAT fast. Yet, if I be, I’ll try to make people look at the bright sides of life, and appreciate the little blessings. And of course, I’d love to be invisible at times.
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| Respect, definitely should be earned. Even love also. For example, suppose someone is the youngest in his/her family. But if that person is arrogant, or not doesn't follow rules. he or she will lose the amount of love she could get if she behaved otherwise. Respect and love both can be gained through attitude. We are humans, we all have flaws, but it is best to erase negativity from life if someone wants to be respected, or loved. Being positive can also make you happy. |
| What is your work style like? Do you prefer to do a little bit each day or do you do well in a hurry at the very end? Thank you Charlie ~  for the prompt.I prefer having a To do list either in my mind, or written down. Too much hurry or rush at the last minute either makes me sick or tense. I think it's sometimes good to multitask, and sometimes some works like studying require full concentration. On the other hand, if I do one work for a long time, I get seriously bored. There's nothing more depressing than getting bored of something I usually like doing. I also have a habit of finding treasures from the trashcan. Sometimes, when I'm beading, painting, or even writing, I sometimes run out of ideas, or maybe have to get busy with other things. Then, I just pile up my half-done, or wrong works in a paper bag or an useless drawer that I call a trashcan. Then when I'm free, I dig up new, creative works from that trashcan. Am trying to be active again, here in WDC. So, I've set up a new activity which supports some great groups. Please take a look:
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| My role model is Anne Frank. Her diary inspired me to start blogging. She had been through so many hardships, yet she never gave up. And her diary was filled with so many events, anybody would be inspired from her life. |
| Keeping a promise is always important, but sometimes situations are such that the promise cannot be kept. I have done this quite a number of times with a best friend of mine. I've been friends with a guy for almost ten years now. Every year, he invites me to visit his home. I sometimes make promises that I will, but could never keep that promise till today. Mainly because he lives so far away that the journey would take away all my energy. I seldom go out of my home, except for going to my music classes. A few of my closest friends come to my home to meet me, as they know I have certain limitations which I can hardly cross. But this guy sometimes sounds sad, and I don't like that. But...Ah well. My way of communicating with friends is via Facebook and cellphone. I have no other way out. Just yesterday, I was reading in newspaper that Facebook is making us unsocial. I don't agree with this because even for my little business, I do need facebook. So if it's used in a good way, it will be good.  |
| I got admitted to my kindergarten school and my music school on the same day. When I was just 5 years old. Maybe that's why I'm so in love with both teaching and music. Just got this lovely anniversary card in the mail today. Writing dot com never sent me snail mail before. I am so happy! It's a lovely card with a nice message at the back, and a calender at the front. Every page of the calender has a writing prompt on it. Wow! Love you, my virtual family   
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| Music is a friend since childhood. It's a therapy, my own painkiller. It's a language I communicate in. Usually I seldom listen to music when I write, because if I do, I get so immersed in it that forget what I was writing and concentrate on the CD instead. My most favorite music is Tagore songs. It's a very famous branch of Asian music. Rabindranath Tagore was the first Bengali Nobel laureate (he was from West Bengal). He got the prize for his famous book "Geetanjali" (song offerings), back in 1913. These songs can be of many types : very melodious, rythmic, sad etc. His songs were divided in four parts: Nature, Prayer, Love and Mixture. I like the Nature songs most. The love songs are very sweet and expressive, and both boys and girls can definitely propose using these songs. Some songs can be very inspirational and motivational. Today is Tagore's 73rd death anniversary, and there are a lot of special programs being aired on TV. I've been watching programs and learning songs since morning. I have a poem about music I had written long ago. "My Music" Please visit youtube if you want to listen to some tagore songs. I have my WDC anniversary coming soon, please help me celebrate:
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