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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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18  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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 for giving me a great reason to blog. |
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Thank you StephBee and ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 for giving me a great reason to blog. |
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Thank you ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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 ⱲєbⱲitϚћ is 18 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. |
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