In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Silver Screen.”
The picture shows it all.. But I’ll tell you a story. About a lady, a call girl as you say. I see her, from my early age. I went to school, she waited outside the cinema for her work. I went to college, she picked up some other girls. Now I go to office, she remains the same. My age grows, her doesn’t. Her work, her makeup, her lipstick doesn’t allow her. I see, I keep quiet, I understand. I never get close to her, never say a good or bad thing, not even a hi or a bow, she never knows me. I won’t feel ashamed, nor she will, but let her remain as she is, as I am.. May be that’s the perks of being a wallflower…
In response to “https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/”
A sunny afternoon, lots of people at Westminster bridge, a lady came rushing, burst out in tears, tried hard to make herself okay. Mumbling vaguely, only one sentence could be heard, “What’d I do now!”
Let leave the lady alone, sobbing, let get back some moments, following the alley. Mrs Lily Baker, a fifty something woman, lost her husband some months ago. Two children, daughter, both in school. Smiling, hardworking housewife. A famous and gentle family in the neighborhood, a poor one in this rich town. All loved her doctor husband, trusted him, and they all made a mutual fund.
Then what, her husband, when on his triumphs of life and death, gave all the papers to another partner. Today, when she came to his office, to take charge, all were forged! That’s all! Mrs Lily Baker, with all their money, respect, future, burst into tears.
The lady, took a tissue paper from her handbag and looked forward. The sun, shinining at its best, from the clouds, creating thousands of rays from the Bronze lady, with her daughters, in a chariot, fighting back the Romans! ” I shan’t lose, My dear lady, Boudicca, I SHALL fight back!” Mrs Baker started walking…
What is “Intimacy” ? close bodies? close hearts? close people? Are we intimate with ourselves? to our souls? My views on “intimacy” not changed, but was shaken, after the exhibition “Chobi Mela VIII“. It started its journey on 2000, and after that, continued biannually.
I am not any photographer, nor I understand art or photography 🙂 But I love to visit all the exhibition of Chobi Mela in various galleries of Dhaka. This year, it expanded its spheres, and was organized also in open places of Puran Dhaka (old town), and Dhaka University Fine Arts premises.
I love to watch photos as a story, as a whole, so took these photographs from distance, with lights and shadows, with their presentations, with my ordinary mobile camera. I didn’t put any caption, as every artist has put their own on the website..and what I loved most? My heart got closer to these people, to those things, I never met, will never meet..
I’d just share one story with you, that by Andrea Diefenbach. Of an HIV/AIDS infected lady in Ukraine. First photo, family woman with her pet cat, happy. next photo, she got infected with drug abuse.. next her tensed husband.. next their war to win her deathbed.. next she died, just died..next her lonely husband..and next? two butterfly pins on the mat..thats it! thats all! Defining “intimacy” with the most distant one!
Blogging is all about friends to me. One of my friends, Debbie asked me today, to say something about Rabindranath Tagore, our most celebrated and closest to heart person..What might I tell about this extraordinary Nobel prize winner? Outside our continent, he is known as a poet, very spiritual one. But through his long life he did everything in creative fields. He is our first succeed short-story writer, novel writer, song writer, producer and director of dance-drama-cinemas, actor, singer, founder of two very different and famous universities, even the first co-operative founder in rural areas and an activist! And what I love most, his modern paintings in his last age.
Whatever I say, is less. He was inspired both by East and West, and that honed his great talent. The great man renounced his Knighthood, in response to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre in 1919.
I believe, any translation make a writing weak, but how could I express them to my friends in Bangla? I was too busy today, coudn’t gather enough links. Then tried a lot to translate a poem, from memory, a lovely one, “Ek Gaye”, very coincidentally it resembles to Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel lee”. But I failed to make the feelings. So, there is a short piece, translated by Poem hunter.
“I hunt for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
pursue the vision that eludes me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands, because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
You come and buy in the market
and go back to your homes laden with
goods, but the spell of the homeless
winds has touched me I know not when
I have no care in my heart; all my
belongings I have left far behind me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands–because I am
hunting for the golden stag.”
(Now, I can say some from my opinion. Here’s a story of the golden stag. As I know, in Ramayana, when Lord Rama, along with his wife Sita and brother Lakshmana, were in exile, Ravana made a magical maze. Ram saw a golden stag and ran after it to catch it..He was so blind to catch it that, when Sita was being taken away, and Lakshmana also searching him, he couldn’t know a bit…I guess, thats the golden stag among our souls also, we so blindly hunt for it, that we can see nothing else! )
My dear debbie, these links are for you, hope you’d check’m out, and love him as we do..and for videos, youtube is always there 🙂 You know, whether its happy or sad or problem time, we sing his songs, by heart, whispering or loud…Our recent and another celebrated novelist and his very fan Humayun Ahmed once said true, “Rabindranath made us a huge fuss, he’s written every impression and expression of our hearts, we just sing them what new would we write?”
Okay, here you go 🙂
http://www.poemhunter.com/i/ebooks/pdf/rabindranath_tagore_2012_10.pdf http://www.kaurab.com/english/bengali_poetry/rabindranath3.pdf http://www.acsa.net.au/brochures/Tagore%20Poems.pdf http://www.iitg.ernet.in/scifac/krishna/public_html/hs_405/tutorials/2013%20assignments/Rabindranath%20Tagore.pdf
http://indiapicks.com/Indianart/Main/R_Tagore_Gallery.htm http://www.ngmaindia.gov.in/sh-rabindranath.asp http://www.calcuttaweb.com/about/people/rabindranath-tagore/tagore-paintings/ http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/r/rabindranath-tagore-poet-and-painter/
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do or Die.”
“Mr Douglas, r u awake?” “See, what time she came to bed!” “but I just have had my dinner” I said silently. “Dinner!! what time is it! Its your time to drink milk! don’t say you poured that in sink again!” Mrs Douglas turned on her back and said in sleepy voice, “She’s all grown up honey..” “ya of course she’s! That day was just yesterday when we two came by her bed, she was frightened, but started to talk..every night this little insomniac kid talked, made stories, laughed, cried..and now suddenly she’s become a GROWN-UP!! and we’ve become OLD!!!” I was numb, what would I say? just looked at Mrs Douglas helplessly. “Honey, it isn’t yesterday, it’s a lot years ago! I can understand. But does she love us less? What are we? ghosts! creepy ghosts! But she loved us from her core! still she remembers us before sleeping, doesn’t she? does she say we are imaginary? like the other kids?? ” Mr Douglas was silent, as usual with his obstinate face. Now it was my time to open mouth “Mr and Mrs Douglas, I never thought why your names are English, I never thought who you are. I just know one thing, every child has guardian angels, I have two guardian ghosts! Whatever my age could be, you two would always be on my bedside. Whenever I’d be frightened at night, wake up, would turn my head back, and know you are always there for me! You will NEVER die! I love you two!” I don’t know how could they, but the old ghost couple hugged me, tight, smiling with tears.. “Now go to bed you old ghosts! Good night Mr and Mrs Douglas!” “Good night baby!”
I borrowed these lines from Rabindranath Tagore, and these lines are spinning in my head for past few days, lines are in Bangla, but I translated them with my funny English! Okay, the whole things abou making goals, for the next days on this blog!
I came to this morose world with a unnecessary curious mind..I asked so much questions that bothered everyone around me. Now I am grown up, cant do the same..but whenever today I see lines of freezers in the lab, I think of a horror film, where zombies would peep out anytime! Today, I must think freezers as freezers, not zombieland! And thats the reason why this blog is! For my dual mind, where freezers are freezers, and where they are bunch of mysteries!
And also for those, who disgustingly ask, “what is hobby?” “I write” “What you write?” “daydreams!” !! No, to answer, “I write under cover of RAINRHYME.WORDPRESS! here’s the link moron!!”
Then, where the goals come from? When I make plans, they are failed, when I don’t they are awesome! yes, procrastination it is, but thats the happiness also 🙂 So, when I like I’ll write, when I don’t, I won’t! And all of my friends (NO FOLLOWER!) definitely would understand this.
I am not that angel-like actually, I love when people read my stuffs, like them…But I am tired this days sometimes. When I followed a few friends, my reader section was clean, I read all of their writings, but now, what I would read, and what not?? At this point comes the pain of making posts more attractive, more eye-catching…I want to remind all of my friend’s names, what they write about..But is it possible really if I have twenty thousands five hundreds and forty two followers??
So, my goal on this first day is, trying to write continuously, get to know my friends, read a lot of science stuffs and again, write!! 😀 😀
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Teacher’s Pet.”
When I am asked to tell about my school-college-university journey, I feel somehow awkward.. somedays earlier, one of my colleagues said, you studied in 4 schools in your 10 years primary and secondary life? then, you couldn’t have a soul-friend!
Ya, she’s right! I studied at a kindergarten for two years in Chittagong, another city. All I could remember, loud rhymes, beautiful class teacher and lots of weird activities 🙂
Then moved to Dhaka and was admitted in a government school. Here, the school compound was huge, and I met many friends from lower or lower-middle class society..We managed to make adventures in the horrified corners, trees, and as usual a ghost in the washroom! 😀 But as I said, class, here I learned how to love people whatever they are! Life is the best teacher though…
Then another school, one of the top and aristocrat girls school in Dhaka.. It was suffocating! grade six, when a girl needs care and mental shelter most, I learned what upper social class is!!
And finally, came to my HOLY CROSS, at grade 8, and the journey ended at grade 12. But did it end? Never! Holy Cross taught me whatever your class, religion, race, complexion etc etc etc is, you are lovable and respectable, and you must give the reward back! Try to do a single thing for another, littlest it be!
My teachers, Sister Philomina Quiya, Sharmin miss, Jharna Mitra miss, Mrs Fahima Gias, Rezwana miss, Chandraboti miss, Pinaru sir, Ostadji (islam religion teacher), Sharkar sir, Mrs Sattar…how many names are peeping on my mind! The wonderful ladies were the living examples of what a LADY is! They were confident, erudite, independent and affectionate!
The most amazing lady of my life, Sister Joseph Mary! This wonderful lady came to our land, from another part of the world, and the whole life, lived and loved us all! When I found her, she was a very very old lady, but strongest than all! I can remember yet, how she used to walk on her shaky old legs, her normal skirt, flat shoes, climbing stairs, and finally teaching us English accent, in her own artful style!
Once she burst out crying and scolded us loud when she saw a girl sitting on the new building wall..We were bored to see a old lady crying! But when she told us, we were mum. One of her close friends died this way, that day I realized, preachers are human too! They cry out for their own family, whether its long forsaken, or whether its the new us! Next day, she started working on making safety grills on the walls! gratitude is so small for this extraordinary lady!
I wouldn’t lengthen my post anymore, just would song that we sang everyday..
“Hail to thee, our Alma Mater,
We, with loving hearts, proclaim.
Long may our college live,
Ever glorious be her name.
Orient skies smile upon us,
As we pledge our love anew,
Holy Cross, we shall be loyal,
Holy Cross we shall be true.
Through the years our song will echo
As we walk our paths apart.
Each note will bind us closely
To our Alma Mater’s heart”
Dear Blogging 101,
Today is 31 January, my last day with you and so my first letter. Who reminds someone when she’s with that person? This letter is not just a gratitude but a intimate picture of bonding and sharing during this course!
I started my blog journey, on January 01, with the name RAINRHYME, a new avatar in this vast internet, with the blog, Lets start it! (later named Dreaming in a dream). There was none in my reader except, the daily post. Then came the name Blogging University! A University on blogging?? took a course, Blogging 101, and boom!
The entire month, I paid heed to my lectures, sometimes could run fast, sometimes couldn’t. But for a beginner like me, it was wow! I found answers, should I blog? should I write on both personal and science stuffs? And the commons was always there 🙂
I never read scientific journals so eagerly as I do now for posting some biology stuffs (though none read them I guess 🙂 ). I found so much fun reading and writing about Metagenomic virus detection from clinical samples that it changed my ambition from Cell Biology PhD to Molecular Biology! I have known my interests, myself while writing!
I wanted to find some friends, who would KNOW ME, without previous KNOWING ME. So, I changed my sharing pattern, and its no social media here ! Yes, my follower number is less, but who bothers?? I don’t even call them followers, they are my friends! from all over the world! I have known some excellent personalities here! So strong, so nice they are! And some labmates too 🙂 Once a thought came to my mind, should I attach this big size photo of me on my home page? Isn’t it looking chick-flick? Then I thought about the people here, felt them so close, so why not sharing my show-case with them?
The letter is too big already, but it is my last letter to you 101, so I’d tell everything I felt! The person I should thank most, Michelle W. Thank you mam! 😀 I loved your word “weekend warriors” most!
You know, what the great thing is? It is GOOD, but not a BYE yet! I have registered for the Blogging 201 course 😀 Hope to see you all in the magical paths of readers, daily prompts, photo event, writing event and all! Hope to jump on a high five whenever we meet! “Arreeh! aren’t you from the Blogging 101 course? How are you doing mate!” 😀
Hope to meet you soon!
Yours, Sadia 🙂
I was searching for the right word, to picturize the beautiful call for prayer, five times a day, the Adhan. Islam has already become the religion of debates, of fear these days, and I am not going to this path anyway. To me, the evening bells from mandir (hindu temple), the evening bells from church, or the evening adhan from mosque, all are equally respectful! But as a muslim, Adhan not only reminds me of prayer, but also reminds me the first days of Islam, when all were equal, the honor of first muazzin or adhan reciter was given to Hazrat Bilal(RA), a slave! And what have we made ourselves today! We have made even different Adhans for different muslim groups!
It is said that, Dhaka is a city of mosques. We have thousands of mosques in neighborhoods, main roads, everywhere. Five times a day muazzins recite its beautiful rhythms, “Allah is greatest, I bear witness there is no God but Allah, I bear witness Muhammad is the messenger of Allah, Hasten to worship, hasten to success!” I love the beautiful part of the Fazr (early morning) salat, “prayer is better than sleep”..I am very lazy person, I cant wake up that time most of the days, but whenever this only line is recited I can’t sleep anymore!
One day, one of my friends called from Australia. Adhan (we call it Azan) was being recited, as always, on loudspeaker, my friend said, turn your voice down, how long I haven’t heard it! Yea, thats a sound pollution of course, when its started at thousands of mosques at a time, in this super duper noisy city, but is it really? No! as I repeatedly tell about the religious culture of our nation, its another example of it. Our non-muslim friends, regard Adhan as clocks! As the way, clocks in churches, in our country, when Adhan for Zuhr prayer is called, its 1 PM! simple!
Days become long, days become short, whole year round, we understand this by the changes in Adhan times. Children goes to field when its afternoon, when Aasr adhan is calling, come back home when its dusk, Magrib adhan. Don’t come home after magrib! moms from all religion, same language! When the sun is setting, first the Magrib adhan, completed, then the bells from hindu homes..no clashes at all! Thus in this peaceful country of rains, this hymn, simple, no instruments, only bare voice, only some lines, quintupled, reminds us of prayer, of that unity we have forgot in this mundane world!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Once Upon a Time.”
Listen my little kitties, listen to your granny..It was a sunny, yes, very sunny winter day..I might be old today, but the day, I still can remember it. It was the day of January, 25, 2015. The date of today. No, no, don’t think I am making up the date..It really was 25 January, your granny’s not that old yet!
It was the day of “Saraswati puja“. Nowdays, you just don’t bother about old religious programs, but once they were great festivals. People from all religions, muslims, hindus, buddhists, christians, all gathered in the puja field..Goddess Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, with her four hands (mind, sense; intellect, reasoning; imagination, creativity; self consciousness, ego), her book of knowledge, her crystal garland of inner reflection, her water of purity and her musical instrument of all creative arts and sciences; called all her pupils… And above all, mother’s SWAN, not a normal one, her beautiful, enormous, snow-white swan..You know, why swan is her vehicle? because, you give her swan mixture of water and milk, it would able to drink the milk alone…Knowledge is not only learning, but the ability to differ good and bad!
Goddess Saraswati statue by Deparment of fine arts, Dhaka University photo courtesy: http://news.priyo.com/photo/2011/feb/09/19373.html, https://www.flickr.com/photos/arrajib/8557738043/?rb=1
I know, what you are thinking bunnies, that, I am a muslim, pray five times a day, don’t believe in Gods and Goddesses, wouldn’t take a mark of sindur or chandan on my forhead, then what was my relation with the veneration, isn’t it? Yes, you are right. On that day, people also asked that. But it was our country of harmony, that’s a rare word today.
Our University of Dhaka organized a big big big festival that day, actually for many years. All the departments, from science faculty, arts, business studies..54 departments established saraswati statue, in their own way, reflecting the theme of their department..You know, there was a statue from Islamic Studies department as well! Huh, what harmonious days they were!
But if the day was that easy, may be I wouldn’t tell you this story. The huge monsters of politics swallowed the whole country..No security, nothing, anytime you might be burnt in the petrol bomb! Boom! and you would be a lump of flesh! But dear, should we let the evil win! No, we couldn’t! We decided to visit mother saraswati, might we didn’t believe her, but we believed the power of knowledge, good and bad!
After office, I came out, whole monthly salary in handbag, lots of cash in a day of chaos outside. No, I didn’t have a horse, a white one as you see in fairy tales, but I made myself entered in a crowded bus..Our university was not far, but there was a fear everywhere. Anytime you might be hurt by thugs, anytime the whole bus could turn into ashes..Yes, it was 2015, but our politics might be from stone ages! (Nah, stone age was far more humane!). Each stoppage passed, a fear for next stoppage grabbed our throat.. I was alone that day, but you know, not really..My friend was coming to the puja from a long distant district, another side of the country, only to meet all!
We, the warriors arrived..Loudspeakers, as bugles, welcome us! many other friends, seniors, juniors..We took photos, we ate foods of veneration, yes, we are muslims, but we had a wonderful thought that time. Hindu friends ate as blessings, we ate as foods! We didn’t venerate the statues, but all shared the beauty of it in hearts.
In this world of religious fights, atheism-religion fights, there was a land of fairy tale. Extremists wanted to separate us, but we didn’t separate ourselves! In the year of 2015, we won! My little children, never let this harmony drowned, let mother saraswati’s swan swim…swim across the ocean of unjust, to give us knowledge of right and wrong!
More pictures of Dhaka University, Jagannath Hall Puja, 2014, (as 2015 pictures are not published yet), http://www.somewhereinblog.net/blog/sanjoymukharjeedumb/29923031