এরা সুখের লাগি চাহে প্রেম, প্রেম মেলে না,

YOU'RE BACKKKKKKKKK

Mastii

i’m a very observant person, so if you think i didn’t notice, i did. i just decided to keep quiet.

I get in the car with him. I’m meeting him in person for the first time and his smile warms my heart. “You said you’ll wear a pullover” he says. “Actually, the pullover got stained”. I look over to him and his eyes are on the road. He looks like a new beginning. Hope blooms shamelessly in my heart. We stop for noodles by the road. It is his favourite spot he mentions. I mentally thank him for sharing a favourite with me. We talk about poetry and he asks me why I like Sylvia Plath so much. I start telling him expecting disinterest to mar his face. But he looks at me like I am a language he wishes to be fluent in. No one has ever looked at me like that. The shopkeeper calls out suddenly, breaking the moment. He goes out to bring the noodles. He hands me my plate and says, “Be careful. it is hot.” and I look at him like he just said ‘I like you’. It is raining outside and we sit in the car in the comfortable silence, eating. The moment feels almost magical. The steam from the noodles clouds the air, blurring the world outside. I look over to him and our eyes meet. My cheeks heat up. “I love the rain”, I say hiding my smitten expression. “Oh me too. It is so romantic”, he agrees. The RJ of the radio agrees too and a romantic tune fills the car. The conversation flows like a river from books to movies to politics to spirituality. He laughs like a kid at my jokes and it takes all of my self control to not reach over and squish his cheeks. He is just so adorable. He feels like the other half of me. The other piece to my puzzle. I let myself hope of us together. But he talks of everything, never us. I plead in my head, “Tell me that you want to meet again. Tell me please, this is just the very first page.” He never does. He drops me at the bus stop. The sinking feeling slowly contaminating the high. “I’ll call you”, he says painting the blue of despair with the yellow of hope. But he never does. He never calls.

In the world full of "Aapki Halwayi ki dukan toh mein haraap ke rahunga"

I still believe in "Bade bade desho mein aisi choti choti baatein hoti reheti hai, Senorita"

This reminded of me when I used to dance bharatnatyam and kathak.... Well performed sir! Kuddos!!!

And he performed the third alaripu and the fourth and fifth one. (Fifth is my favorite)

Bharatnatyam, an Indian Classical Dance

(x)

"I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life." -Virginia Woolf.

YAYYYYYYYYY

Mauj

😭😭😭✨✨✨✨✨✨💗💗💗💗💗💗

PROUD MOMENT

Yay!!! Congratulations to Ustad Zakir Hussain ji and Shankar Mahadevan!!!!

The sort of absolutely disgusting shit that takes place in my city, in my country, an example (TW: r*pe, m*rder):

I live in Kolkata, India. Recently, a second year doctor in training was brutally r*ped, and m*rdered, then her body was defiled again, in my city in her own workplace. It happened when she was resting after a long shift. She only wanted to take a few hour's nap before she went back to taking care of her patients, and she was accosted by what seemed like one person at first, later determined as a group. Only one person has been arrested as of yet, who conveniently gave himself up. It is suspected that this man is only a scape goat, and the real criminals are doctors and interns working in the same hospital as her (R.G.Kar Medical College). It is also suspected that this happened because she was privy to a bigger set of criminal activities taking place in this institution, and this was done to silence her. We are all angry and upset. This crime echoes that which happened in Delhi years ago (in 2012) to a physiotherapy intern. The chances are slim, since the criminals may have deep political connections, but I hope the perpetrators are brought to court. Even death wouldn't be a good enough punishment. Fuck r*pers and fuck the government.

JUSTICE IS WHAT WE WANT!!

WHAT IS HAPPENING IN BANGLADESH?

Students of college, universities and even high schools in Bangladesh have taken to the streets in a mass movement named the "Bangla Blockade" demanding the eradication of the quota system. The quota system reserves a massive percentage of the government jobs for specific groups of people. These jobs are earned by sitting for the Bangladesh Civil Service exams.

Effectively, only 46% of the jobs are left to be contested by merit.

The biggest quota sectors are NOT for the disabled, or indigenous people or for women.

THIRTY PERCENT of the jobs are reserved for children and grandchildred of registered freedom fighters.

The police and political wings are using violence on the protesters. Images of armed men beating up women with sticks and rods are going viral. Spread the word. We need more people talking about this.

Link to an Instagram post with information that you can share.