#sad love story bangla

[atikulnur]

আমার ও একটা মানুষ ছিল,|| যে আমাকে, পাগলের মতো ভালবাসতো,,, || Creative Content By Atik

[banglacaption12]

The Art of Crafting the Perfect FB Caption Bangla for Social Media Engagement

In the dynamic world of social media, where posts are shared at lightning speed, standing out from the crowd has become more challenging than ever. Facebook (FB) remains one of the most popular social platforms, especially in countries like Bangladesh, where people actively share their thoughts, emotions, and life events. One of the most important elements of any FB post is the caption – the small piece of text that accompanies photos, links, or status updates. It serves as the voice of your post, giving it context, flavor, and emotion.

Crafting the perfect FB caption Bangla can not only enhance your post but also engage your audience more effectively. For native Bengali speakers, captions in their mother tongue resonate deeply, giving your social media content a personalized and authentic touch. In this article, we’ll explore why FB captions are important, the advantages of writing them in Bangla, and how to create an eye-catching caption that stands out in the social media landscape.

Why Captions Are Essential for Social Media

Captions are an essential part of social media for several reasons. They serve as the bridge between the content (image, video, or link) and the audience, adding clarity, emotion, and engagement. Here are some of the key reasons why crafting an effective caption is so important:

1. Captions Set the Tone

A caption sets the tone for your post. Whether you want to be humorous, sentimental, or informative, the caption helps guide the viewer's interpretation of the post. A well-written caption in FB caption Bangla can make a simple image evoke laughter, nostalgia, or inspiration.

2. Captions Drive Engagement

The goal of any social media post is engagement—likes, comments, shares, and reactions. Captions play a significant role in driving this engagement. A captivating caption invites users to interact with your post, whether by commenting on their thoughts or sharing it with others. In particular, a well-crafted FB caption Bangla can connect deeply with Bengali-speaking audiences, encouraging them to engage.

3. Captions Provide Context

An image may be worth a thousand words, but a caption can provide the context that an image alone cannot. It helps the viewer understand the story behind the post, making it easier to relate and engage. For example, a scenic photo with a heartfelt Bangla caption might evoke memories of home or special moments, making it more relatable to your audience.

4. Personal Expression

Captions allow users to express themselves. Whether you're celebrating a personal achievement, sharing a life update, or posting a fun moment, your caption adds a layer of personal expression. Writing an FB caption Bangla allows you to express yourself in a way that resonates culturally and emotionally with your audience.

Why Write FB Captions in Bangla?

Writing captions in Bangla offers several unique advantages, especially if your audience consists of native Bengali speakers. Here’s why opting for FB caption Bangla can elevate your social media game:

1. Cultural Relevance

Writing captions in Bangla makes your content more culturally relevant. In Bangladesh and other regions where Bangla is spoken, users can better connect with posts that are in their own language. Using Bangla captions brings a sense of familiarity and cultural pride, making your content more relatable and meaningful.

2. Emotional Depth

The Bangla language is rich in emotional expression. It allows you to convey a wide range of emotions – from joy and love to nostalgia and sadness. Writing FB captions in Bangla taps into this emotional depth, helping you create posts that resonate more deeply with your audience.

3. Linguistic Creativity

Bangla, like any other language, has its own idioms, metaphors, and colloquial expressions that add a unique flavor to social media content. Using these elements in your FB caption Bangla can make your post more creative and engaging. Whether it’s a humorous play on words or a poetic expression, Bangla allows for rich linguistic creativity.

4. Engaging the Local Audience

For Bengali speakers, a caption in Bangla feels more personal and relatable. Using FB captions Bangla helps engage the local audience more effectively, as they are more likely to respond to content in their native language. This is particularly important for businesses and influencers who want to connect with a Bengali-speaking demographic.

Tips for Crafting the Perfect FB Caption Bangla

Writing the perfect FB caption Bangla requires creativity, thoughtfulness, and a good understanding of your audience. Here are some tips to help you craft a caption that will grab attention and encourage engagement:

1. Keep It Concise and Impactful

In the fast-paced world of social media, less is often more. While you might be tempted to write a long caption, shorter ones usually perform better. A short, impactful Bangla caption that conveys your message effectively is more likely to be read and remembered. For example: "বন্ধুদের সাথে কাটানো প্রতিটি মুহূর্ত মূল্যবান।" (Every moment spent with friends is priceless.)

2. Use Humor When Appropriate

Humor can make your post more relatable and shareable. A funny or witty FB caption Bangla can stand out in a crowded newsfeed and bring a smile to your followers. Just make sure the humor is appropriate for your audience and the context of the post. For example: "আজকে দেরিতে ঘুম থেকে উঠেছি, কারণ সকালটা খুব গোপনীয় ছিল!" (Woke up late today because the morning was being so secretive!)

3. Incorporate Local References

Adding local references or cultural elements can make your caption more engaging for a Bangladeshi audience. You could mention popular festivals, traditions, or even trending topics that are relevant in the Bangla-speaking world.

For example: "বৈশাখের দিনে রঙিন শাড়ি আর মিষ্টি হাসি, বন্ধুদের সাথে দিনটা আরও সুন্দর করে তোলে।" (On the day of Boishakh, colorful sarees and sweet smiles make the day even more beautiful with friends.)

4. Ask Questions to Encourage Engagement

A great way to drive engagement is by asking a question in your caption. This encourages your audience to leave comments and interact with your post. For example: "তোমার প্রিয় গানের লাইন কোনটি?" (What is your favorite line from a song?)

5. Add Emojis for Extra Flair

Emojis add visual appeal to your captions and help convey emotions that words alone may not express. For instance, using a heart emoji (❤️) alongside a caption about love can amplify the emotion you're trying to express. Just make sure not to overuse emojis, as it could make the caption feel cluttered.

6. Incorporate Quotes or Proverbs

Bangla has a rich tradition of proverbs and quotes that can add wisdom or humor to your caption. Using a popular Bangla quote or a line from a famous poem can add depth to your FB caption Bangla. For example: "যতক্��ণ শ্বাস, ততক্ষণ আশ।" (As long as there is breath, there is hope.)

7. Create a Call to Action

Sometimes, you want your audience to take a specific action – like sharing, commenting, or tagging friends. Including a call to action (CTA) in your FB caption Bangla can encourage them to do just that. For example: "এই ছবিটি দেখে তোমার মনে পড়লো কাকে? তাকে ট্যা�� করো!" (Who does this photo remind you of? Tag them!)

Examples of Creative FB Captions in Bangla

Here are some examples of FB caption Bangla ideas to inspire you:

"প্রকৃতি আমাদের মনে করিয়ে দেয়, ছোট ছোট জিনিসগুলোই আসলে সবচেয়ে বড়।" (Nature reminds us that the small things are actually the biggest.)

"ভালোবাসার অনুভূতি আসলে ব্যাখ্যা করা যায় না, তা শুধু অনুভব করা যায়।" (The feeling of love can’t really be explained, it can only be felt.)

"শুক্রবার মানেই বন্ধুদের সাথে মজার আড্ডা!" (Friday means fun hangouts with friends!)

"জীবনের প্রতিটি মুহূর্ত উপভোগ করো, কারণ এগুলো আর ফিরে আসবে না।" (Enjoy every moment of life, because they won’t come back again.)

A well-crafted FB caption Bangla can make all the difference when it comes to engaging your audience and elevating your social media presence. Whether you're sharing personal updates, photos, or thoughts, using Bangla to write your captions adds authenticity, cultural relevance, and emotional depth to your posts. By following the tips outlined in this article and getting creative with your words, you can craft engaging captions that connect with your audience and make your posts stand out.

For more ideas and stylish FB captions in Bangla, visit FB Caption Bangla. Happy posting!

[khademripon]

বাংলা কষ্টের মেসেজ Sad Bangla Message | Latest Bangla Sad SMS

[sopnilchirkut]

আমি তোমাকে ভুলতে চাই ! জানো চিৎকার করে বলতে ইচ্ছে মাঝে মাঝে করে আমি তোমাকে ভুলতে চাই, কিন্ত পারি না

[banglalovestory]

Bangla Love Story - Trina Love Palash

Bangla Love Story A True Love Story Between Trina And Palash.

তৃণা আজকাল সবসময় মনে করে যে ওর জীবনটা একদম নষ্ট আর সেই দায় টা সে চাপিয়ে দেয় পলাশের ওপর। পলাশকে ও মনে করে একটা দুষ্ট গ্রহ, ওর জীবনের শনি । আর বাকি দায় সে চাপায় নিজের বাবা মায়ের ওপর । কেন ওনারা এতো তড়িঘড়ি পলাশের মতো একটা আনইম্প্রেসিভ লোকের সঙ্গে যে বিয়ে টা দিলো, সেটা ও কিছুতেই হজম কর���ে পারে না । অথচ তৃণা নিজের দোষ গুলো কোনদিন খোঁজার চেষ্টা করে না । তৃণার বাবা মা দুজনেই অধ্যাপক । ওনাদের সব আশা ভরসা ছিলো ওই একটিমাত্র সন্তান তৃণার ওপর । কিন্তু মেয়ে যে এইভাবে একটু একটু করে চোখের সামনে উচ্ছন্নে চলে যাবে এটা ওঁরা ভাবতেও পারেন নি । নামী কনভেন্ট স্কুলে তৃণা পড়তো । তখন থেকেই ও খুব অহংকারী আর উন্নাসিক হয়ে উঠেছিলো । স্কুলের আরও কয়েকটা ধনী উৎশৃঙ্খল মেয়ের সঙ্গে ওর বন্ধুত্ব ছিলো । স্কুলের টিচাররাও ওদের অপছন্দ করতেন । প্রায়ই কমপ্লেন আসতো মেয়ের নামে । তৃণার মা রুমা দেবী আর বাবা সমীর বাবু এই ব্যাপারে খুবই চিন্তিত ছিলেন । অনেক বুঝিয়েছেন মেয়েকে , ভালবেসে, এমনকি বকে ধমকে কিন্তু তৃণা কোন কথাই কানে তুলতো না । পোশাক আসাকও বড় অভব্য, উদ্ধত পড়তো, মায়ের শাসনকেও পাত্তাই দিতো না।

স্কুল ছেড়ে কলেজে গিয়ে ঔদ্ধত্য আরও বেড়ে গেলো । প্রায়ই রাত করে বাড়ি ফিরতে লাগলো । কলেজে সায়ন নামের একটা ছেলের সাথে ওর খুব ঘনিষ্ঠতা হলো । সায়ন ছিলো একটি উশৃঙ্খল, বেপরোয়া ছেলে, ভীষণ ভাবে নেশায় আসক্ত । কিন্তু ওর ছিলো আকর্ষণীয় চেহারা যা দেখে কলেজের মেয়েরা সহজেই ওর প্রতি আকৃষ্ট হতো । তৃণাও হয়েছিলো । একদিন তৃণার বাড়ি ফিরতে অনেক রাত হচ্ছিলো । রুমা দেবী খুব চিন্তিত ভাবে বারান্দায় মেয়ের ফেরার অপেক্ষা করছিলেন। রাত বারোটা নাগাদ বাড়ীর সামনে একটা বাইক এসে থামলো । রুমাদেবী দেখলেন তৃণা বাইক থেকে নেমে ছেলেটাকে গলা জড়িয়ে একটা চুমু খেয়ে গেটের দিকে এগিয়ে এলো, কিন্তু অদ্ভুত এলোমেলো পায়ে, যেন পায়ের ওপর ভারসাম্য রাখতে পারছে না । উনি ভাবলেন তৃণার কি শরীর খারাপ হয়েছে ? তাড়াতাড়ি দরজাটা খুললেন । তৃণা টাল সামলাতে পারলো না। হুমড়ি খেয়ে পড়ে যাচ্ছিলো, রুমাদেবী ধরে ফেললেন মেয়েকে আর ঠিক তখুনি মদের গন্ধ টা পেলেন । ওনার পায়ের তলা থেকে যেন মাটি সরে গেলো ভাবলেন এই অপ্রকৃতিস্থ অবস্থার মেয়েকে এখন কিছু বলেও লাভ নেই । আর এতো রাত্রে প্রেসারের রুগী সমীর বাবুকেও ঘুম থেকে না ডাকাই উচিত, ঘুমের ওষুধ খেয়ে ওনাকে ঘুমোতে হয় । ওনাকে যা বলার সকালে বলবেন এটাই ঠিক করলেন মনে মনে । কোনরকমে মেয়েকে ধরে ধরে ওর বেড রুমে পৌঁছে দিয়ে এলেন ।

সে রাত্রে রুমা দেবী জেগে কাটালেন, ঘুম এলো না দুশ্চিন্তায়। পরের দিন সকালে স্��ামীকে বললেন "শোন আমি অনেক ভেবে দেখলাম, তৃণার বিয়ে দিতে হবে, ও শোধরাবার মেয়ে নয় । কবে আরও কি বিপদ ডেকে আনবে ঠিক নেই । তার থেকে ভালো কোন পাত্র দেখে বিয়ে দিয়ে দাও । " তারপর গতকাল রাত্রের সব ঘটনা বললেন । সমীরবাবু খুবই শান্ত স্বভাবের মানুষ । তিনি এসব ব্যপার নিয়ে ঘাঁটাঘাঁটি করতে চাইলেন না । শুধু রুমা দেবীর সঙ্গে একমত হলেন । তারপর এদিক ওদিক পাত্রের জন্য খোঁজখবর নেওয়া শুরু করলেন। হঠাত একদিন সমীরবাবুর সঙ্গে ওনার পুরনো একজন ছাত্র পলাশের দেখা হলো । খুব মেধাবী ছাত্র ছিলো পলাশ একদম সাদামাটা চেহারা, খুব ভালো চাকরি করে কিন্তু একটুও অহংকার নেই । সমীর বাবুকে পায়ে হাত দিয়ে প্রণাম করে পলাশ জিগগেস করলো "কেমন আছেন স্যার ?" সমীর বাবু জিগগেস করলেন "কোথায় থাকো তুমি ? তোমার বাবা মা কেমন আছেন ?" পলাশ বললো সে এখন দিল্লী তে একটা মাল্টি ন্যাশানাল কম্পানি তে উঁচু পদে আছে । ওর বাবা মারা গেছেন । মা হুগলীতে দেশের বাড়িতেই বেশিরভাগ সময় থাকেন, মাঝে মাঝে দিল্লি তে ছেলের কাছে গিয়ে থাকেন । এখন ও মায়ের কাছে এসেছে, কিছুদিন থাকবে । কথায় কথায় সমীর বাবু জানতে পারলেন যে পলাশ এখনো বিয়ে করেনি । উনি পলাশের ফোন নম্বর টা লিখে নিলেন । বাড়ি ফিরে রুমা দেবীকে পলাশের কথা জানালেন ।উনিও খুব আগ্রহ দেখালেন । পরের দিনই সমীর বাবু পলাশ কে ফোন করে ওর মা সুজাতা দেবীর সঙ্গে কথা বলতে চাইলেন এবং উনি সোজাসুজি তৃণার সঙ্গে পলাশের বিয়ের প্রস্তাব টা দিলেন । এমনিতেই সুজাতা দেবী ছেলেরই মতো ভীষণ সাদাসিধে মানুষ, তার ওপর যখন জানলেন সমীর বাবু পলাশের অধ্যাপক ছিলেন, উনি খুব খুশি মনে তক্ষুনি রাজী হয়ে গেলেন । খুব শিগগিরই বিয়ের দিন স্থির হযে গেলো । তৃণা জানতে পেরে খুব রাগারাগি করলো কিন্তু রুমা দেবী কঠিন স্বরে বললেন , " এটাই আমাদের ফাইনাল ডিসিশন... মেনে নিতে হলে নাও, নইলে দরজা খোলা আছে ,তুমি যেতে পারো । আমরাও ভুলে যাবো যে আমাদের কোন মেয়ে আছে ।" মায়ের এরকম ঠান্ডা, কঠিন গলার স্বর শুনে তৃণা একটু থমকে গেলো । তবুও ওর মনে আশা ছিলো, সায়ন নিশ্চই ওকে সাহায্য করবে । সেদিন কলেজে গিয়ে সায়নকে যখন সব বললো সে বললো " আরে তুই এতো ভাবছিস কেন ? আপাতত বিয়ে টা তো করে নে , তারপর আমি তো আছিই । কয়েকটা দিন ওই বোকা লোকটাকে একটু সহ্য করে নে সুইট হার্ট । ততোদিনে আমি একটা চাকরির ব্যবস্থা করে ফেলি । তারপর আবার তুই আর আমি আগের মতো । এভরিথিং উইল বি সেট্লড ডাউন... তবতক এই নাটক টা চালিয়ে যা ডার্লিং !" তৃণাও এই নাটক করতে রাজী হয়ে গেলো । বিয়েটা ও চুপচাপ করে ফেললো এবং বিয়ে�� রাতেই ও পলাশকে বলে দিয়েছে " শুনুন এই বিয়ে টা আমি বাবা মায়ের চাপে করেছি. আপনাকে আমার একটুও পছন্দ নয় । তাই যেচে কোনদিন আমায় ভালবাসা দেখাতে আসবেন না বলে দিলাম ।" কথাটা শুনে পলাশের মুখটা একটু অন্ধকার হযে গেছিলো, তারপর ম্লান হেসে বলেছিলো " চিন্তা কোর না, আমি কোনদিনই তোমার ওপর কোন জোর খাটাবো না ।" তারপর থেকে পলাশ প্রয়োজন ছাড়া ওর সঙ্গে কোন কথা বলে নি।

রিসেপশনের পরের দিনই সকালের ফ্লাইটে ওরা দিল্লী চলে গেলো । ওখানে আঠেরো তলার ওপরের সুন্দর ঝকঝকে ফ্ল্যাটটা দেখে তৃণার বেশ পছন্দই হলো । পলাশ বললো " আমি বেশীরভাগ সময়েই ব্যস্ত থাকি তাই বাড়ির গাড়ি টা তুমি যখন ইচ্ছে সেটা ইউস করতে পারো , শুধু ড্রাইভারকে খবর দিয়ে দিয়ো। আমি অফিসের গাড়িতেই যাতায়াত করি। আর কাজের লোক, রান্নার লোক সবই আছে , তোমার ইচ্ছে মতো রান্না করিয়ে নিয়ো ।" তৃণা হা��প ছেড়ে বাঁচলো, ভাবলো যাক বাবা আমার স্বাধীনতা বজায় রইলো ।পলাশ অফিসে চলে যাবার পরে ও সায়ানকে ফোন করলো । সায়ন ফোন ধরে বললো " কি রে তৃণা , কেমন আছিস ? সব ঠিক আছে তো ?" তৃণা বললো " হ্যাঁ, এভরিথিং ইজ ফাইন । কিন্তু সায়ন তুই যতো তাড়াতাড়ি সম্ভব আমাকে তোর কাছে নিয়ে যাবার ব্যবস্থা কর ।" সায়ন বললো "কুল বেবী ! জাস্ট কয়েকটা দিন অপেক্ষা করা সব ঠিক করে দেবো আমি, ডোন্ট ওরি ।" এইভাবে ওদের মেসেজের আদান প্রদান আর ফোনে কথা হতো । ওদিকে দিল্লিতে তৃণার স্কুলের বন্ধু শালিনী থাকে, ওর সঙ্গে তৃণা প্রায়ই সিনেমা, শপিং, কফি শপে আড্ডা এসব নিয়ে বেশ ফূর্তিতে দিন কাটাতে লাগলো।

মাসখানেক পরে পলাশ বললো "কয়েকদিনের জন্য দেশের বাড়ি যেতে হবে । বিয়েটা কলকাতায় হয়েছিলো, তাই দেশের বাড়িতে আত্মীয় স্বজনরা আসতে পারে নি । সেইজন্য মা ওখানে কটা দিনের জন্য আমাদের যেতে বলেছেন । তুমি জিনিস গুছিয়ে নিয়ো ।" তৃণা ওদের দেশের বাড়ি যাবার কথা শুনে মনে মনে খুবই বিরক্ত হলো কিন্তু এই নিয়ে কোন কথা বাড়ালো না । সেদিন ও সায়নকে ফোন করে ওর কলকাতায় যাবার কথা জানালো আর বললো ওইসময় ও সায়নের সঙ্গে দেখা করতে চায় । কিন্তু সায়ন বললো যে ও আজকাল ইন্টারভিউ নিয়ে ব্যস্ত থাকে তাই হয়তো সময় করে উঠতে পারবে না , তবে চেষ্টা করবে । " এটা শুনে তৃণার একটু মুড অফ হয়ে গেলো ঠিকই তবে মনে মনে ভাবলো সায়ন তো ওর জন্যই চাকরির চেষ্টা করছে । ও যতো তাড়াতাড়ি চাকরি পাবে তৃণাও ততো তাড়াতাড়ি ওর কাছে চলে যেতে পারবে । এটা ভেবে ওর মনটা একটূ ভালো হলো । নির্দিষ্ট দিনে ওরা দেশের বাড়ি পৌঁছল । পলাশের মা ওকে বরণ করলো, আশে পাশের আত্মীয়রা, পাড়া প্রতিবেশীরা সব বৌ দেখতে এলো নানা উপহার নিয়ে । তৃণা মনে মনে বিরক্ত হলেও প্রকাশ করলো না । সবাই চলে য���ওয়ার পরে তৃণা সায়নকে মেসেজ করলো, কিন্তু কোন রিপ্লাই এলোনা । অথচ ও অনলাইন আছে । তৃণা ভাবলো হয়ত পরে উত্তর দেবে । এদিকে ওর খুব মাথায় যন্ত্রণা হচ্ছে, কেমন একটা জ্বর জ্বর ভাব, খুব ক্লান্ত লাগছে । তৃণা ভাবলো একটূ রেস্ট নেবে । ও কখন ঘুমিয়ে পড়েছে জানে না । হঠাত্ ঘুম ভেঙ্গে দেখলো রাত হয়ে গেছে, হয়তো কেউ ওকে ডেকে ফিরে গেছে কিন্তু সত্যিই ওর জ্বর এসেছে ।ও কোনরকমে টেবিল থেকে জলের বোতল টা নিয়ে , ব্যাগ থেকে একটা জ্বরের ওষুধ খেয়ে শুয়ে পড়লো আবার । ঘুমানোর আগে এক ঝলক ফোন এর ইনবক্স টা দেখলো , না কোন রিপ্লাই নেইlতারপর তৃণা কপালে একটূ মাথা ধরার মলম লাগিয়ে শুয়ে পড়লো । তারপর ওর আর হুঁশ ছিলো না।

মাঝ রাত্রে মনে হলো কেউ ওর কপালে জল পটি দিচ্ছে কিন্তু চোখ খুলে তাকানোর ক্ষমতা ওর ছিলো না । সকালে আলো ফোটার পর ওর হুঁশ ফিরে এলো । ও চোখ খুলে তাকিয়ে দেখলো পলাশ পাশেই চেয়ারে বসে ঘুমিয়ে পড়েছে । পাশেই টেবিলে জলের বাটি আর ওর কপালে লাগানোর জল পটি রাখা আছে । ও বুঝলো কাল সারারাত পলাশ জেগে জেগে ওর সেবা করেছে । তৃণা অবাক হয়ে ভাবলো, ওকে তো বিয়ের দিন থেকেই অনেক দূরে সরিয়ে দিয়েছিলো । তবে কেন ও তৃণার শুশ্রূষা করলো ? হঠাত্ ওর মনে পড়লো সায়নের কথা । ও মোবাইলটা দেখলো , না এখনো কোন রিপ্লাই নেই । হঠাত্ একটা পোস্ট চোখে পড়তেই ও চমকে উঠলো । সায়ন একটা ছবি পোস্ট করেছে ওদেরই এক বান্ধবী রিয়ার সঙ্গে খুব ঘনিষ্ট একটা ছবি আর ক্যাপশান এ লিখেছে " আমার ভাবী জীবনসঙ্গিনীর সঙ্গে কিছুক্ষন ।" মোবাইল টা তৃণার হাত থেকে বিছানায় পড়ে গেলো। ওর চোখ দুটো ঝাপসা হয়ে গেলো চোখের জলে । ঠিক এই সময় পলাশের ঘুম ভেঙ্গে গেলো । ও তৃণাকে জিগগেস করলো "কি হয়েছে তৃণা ? কোন কষ্ট হচ্ছে৷ ? মাথায় কি খুব যন্ত্রণা হচ্ছে৷? দাঁড়াও আমি তোমায় ওষুধ টা আগে দিই ।" পলাশ চেয়ার ছেড়ে উঠতেই তৃণা ওর হাতটা ধরে ফেললো, বললো " আমায় ছেড়ে যেও না প্লিজ ।" পলাশ খুব অবাক হয়ে গেলো, বললো " না না আমি কোথাও যাচ্ছি না। শুধু তোমার জন্য ওষুধ আর জলের বোতল টা আনতে যাচ্ছি । এই বলে তৃণার কপালে হাত ছোঁয়াল জ্বর দেখতে আর তখনই তৃণা ওকে জড়িয়ে ধরলো । পলাশের বুকে মাথা রেখে বিড়বিড় করে বলতে লাগলো " আমি তোমার মনে কত কষ্ট দিয়েছি । তুমি কি পারবে আমায় ক্ষমা করে আর কোনদিন ভালবাসতে ? " পলাশ ওর মাথায় হাত বুলিয়ে বললো " ধুর বোকা মেয়ে , বিয়ের মন্ত্র যখন পড়েছিলাম তখন থেকেই তুমি আমার হৃদয়ে জায়গা করে নিয়েছো । আর তুমি তো আমার অর্ধাঙ্গিনী, শরীরের অদ্ধেকটা বাদ দিয়ে কি কেউ বাঁচতে পারে ? আমৃত্যু তোমাকেই ভালবাসবো আর তোমার সাথেই বাঁচবো । ছেড়ে যাওয়ার কথা আর কখনো বলবে না । আমি তোমারই আছি আর তোমারই থাকবো ��িরদিন ।" তৃণার দুচোখ থেকে তখন অনুতাপের অশ্রু ঝরে পড়ছে কিনতু ঠোঁটে পরম শান্তির মৃদু হাসি । পলাশের দু বাহুর আশ্রয়ে নিজেকে সঁপে দিলো তৃণা পরম আস্থায়।

(সমাপ্ত)

[khademripon]

বাংলা কষ্টের মেসেজ Sad Bangla Message | Latest Bangla Sad SMS #sadsms

[rsopurs]

একটি অসমাপ্ত ভালোবাসার গল্প/Bangla sad love story 2020

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison and Pete Ham in the studio control room, September 1971; photo by Michael Putland/Getty Images.

“Pete just loved working with George. He felt he learned a lot from him. […] George Harrison told Pete he wanted to perform an acoustic duet of ‘Here Comes The Sun’ [at the Concert for Bangladesh]. […] ‘Pete was thrilled that someone he admired thought enough of him to do that stage spot at the Bangla Desh concert. It was really a buzz for him.” - Beverley (Pete’s widow), Without You: The Tragic Story of Badfinger

“We all came through so much in the Sixties and we all wanted so much to create something positive, something good. And it’s hard to… You know, when we come out into the Seventies, and we find it’s hard to go on. A lot of these people were only part-time hippies, or part-time lovers. They, you know, the badness of the world, or in them, caught up to them too soon. And you find that they turned round and all just started stabbing each other in the back. It’s like, we all need to support each other in many ways in order to exist. Like for example, just the other day I heard that [Pete Ham] from Badfinger — you know, Badfinger, who was on Apple Records, ‘Day After Day’ — the guy who wrote the big Harry Nilsson tune ‘Without You.’ He hanged himself. Okay, so, he’s hanged himself because he… can’t go on, you know... can’t go on.” - George Harrison, radio interview, August 1975

Q: “Who are the bands you're most proud of from the Apple stable?” George Harrison: “Anybody who had a hit, probably... like Badfinger was pretty good. It was a very sad story, though, because the guy, he ended up killing himself. Pete Ham, who was a lovely fellow, he was a good guitar player and a great singer. He wrote... the most famous tune I would imagine is ‘Without You,’ you know, the Harry Nilsson record.” - Undercover, 1996

“[George spoke of Pete] with fondness as a friend and with respect for his beautiful songs. I have had the pleasure of meeting Pete’s family and, although I did not know Pete himself, his lyrics and recordings embody a gentle spirit and tender heart.” - Olivia Harrison, BBC, 27 April 2013 (x)

[banglalovestory]

মানুষ মানুষের জন্য, পাখি আকাশের জন্য, সবুজ প্রকৃতির জন্য, পাহাড় ঝর্ণার জন্য, ভালোবাসা সবার জন্য, আর তুমি শুধু আমার জন্য !!!

তোমার জন্য রইলো আমার স্বপ্নে ভেজা ঘুম, একলা থাকা শান্ত দুপুর রাত্রি নিঝুম, তোমার জন্য রইলো আমার দুষ্ট চোখের ভাষা , মনের মাঝে লুকিয়ে রাখা অনেক ভালোবাসা,

যত ভালোবাসা পেয়েছি তোমার কাছ থেকে, দুষ্ট এই মন চায় আরো বেশি পেতে, কি জানি তোমার মধ্যে কি আছে , এই মন চায় তোমাকে আরো বেশি কাছে পেতে.

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[obujhvalobasha-blog]

Bangla Sad Love Story | Heart Touching Love Story Bangla

[sopnilchirkut]

বাংলা sad love story, valobasar golpo পৃথিবীতে সবচেয়ে বড় কষ্ট হলো একতরফা ভালোবাসা । আর তারচেয়ে বড় কষ্ট হল, আপনি তাকে ভালবাসতেন সে জানত কিন্তু এখনও ভালবাসেন সে কথা সে জানে নাহ । valobashar kotha & valobashar golpo আপনার ভালোবাসাটা যদি সেই মানুষটা কে বুঝাতে না পারেন সারা জীবন একটা চাপা  কষ্ট আপনাকে ডোমরে-মুচরে খাবে!  বাংলা sad love story

[kkwritr]

‘what is grief but love persevering’.

I haven’t written in maybe two years and approach writing for catharsis again with a careful caution. I contemplated a lot where I write this, and whether I share it. Writing and hosting it on Tumblr, a place I grew up and enjoyed some of the most wholesome, care-free years of my early adult life feels fitting as we talk about grief. Reason being, I’ve recently been grieving the loss of who I was before my late twenties. And whilst navigating the grief of a former happier, less fatigued and traumatised me, I lost my grandmother.

A few months ago, Vision said in Marvel’s WandaVision: ‘What is grief but love persevering’, and the quote stuck with me. It’s been one I’ve thought about often this past week. To grieve is to be sad, to mourn the loss of something or someone you love, it leaves a void of the former and an empty hollowness. But that love perseveres. And feeling this sadness just means that there was love to begin with, so much love, and here you are holding onto it. There’s kindness and warmth in this.

Hey Shona

My Grandma battled a series of aches in life, beyond sickness and ailments, she was a woman who stood graciously in the face of immense adversity, hurt and pain. In her final years, as she began deteriorating in front of us, during her last visit to London, I sat with her and asked if I could ask her about her life and record it. She agreed and I recorded hours of conversations. We laughed, we sat solemnly, I teased her, she scolded me, we didn’t cry, but it was cathartic and my cloud now holds this tender moment memorialised for her family and future great-grandchildren to enjoy.

She told me in said interview that her husband, my grandad, a young man from a neighbouring bari had declared to her pre marriage, ‘Hey Shona, did you hear? I want to marry you’. I swooned, and asked her whether that made her heart race, or whether she felt funny in her stomach (I couldn’t translate the feeling of butterflies in Bangla) and she told me off saying ‘you don’t need to know, go and find your own man instead of asking me such personal questions about mine’. I laughed because she is exactly where I get my sass from.  

We worried that she would pass earlier this year during a sudden bout of sickness and hospitalisation. I remember frantically driving to her, a few hours away from London. I was fortunate enough to spend the night sat by her, just the two of us. Our last real Nani/Khadijah moment. She was coherent enough for us to stay up talking. We wrote and drew a family tree together, she remembered the names of her family, distant and close, and told me stories about all of them. I wrote everything down and she asked me to turn it into a small book and share it with the others so we could look at it from time to time after she passes and remember her. I told her I would. (She also pushed me to get my nose pierced, I told her I’d think about it as I have a nose insecurity. I now think I may do it in her memory, although I’m sad she won’t be able to see and enjoy it and also compliment me lol).

Fast forward to a few days ago, my entire family got to spend a few hours with her before the burial. She lay in the middle of the room looking like she was asleep. Cosy almost, shrouded in white. Her face quite literally was illuminated with noor. I never understood what was meant by the deceased having noor until I saw it. The months leading up to her death, she kept saying she was ready to meet Allah SWT. And whilst we can’t say for sure, I have a resounding calmness and confidence in knowing she is happy with her Lord and surrounded by the Angels iA.

Adulting in death

I’ve described navigating a sudden bereavement as something that forces you to grow up. I’ve emerged from this week a more grown up and mature me. You’re forced to deal with life (and death) administration, to manage others’ grief whilst trying to manage your own, you juggle your responsibilities and figure out how to pause them, all the while, you try to maintain a spiritual high. Being strong for my mum who was rendered a child who just wanted her mum, calling my aunty to tell her her mother had died, and then having to break the news to tiny children who won’t get to see grandma again, these are conversations we are never ready to have, and there is no way to do it without feeling like you completely messed it up.

There are hundreds of other moments in the days that follow that you are met with, and each feels like you fumbled it, or as if you are emotionally drained and have nothing to give to all your loved ones who are grieving too. And then…

A full tank

… your tank is filled.

My heart this week has been a tank; empty, drained, tired, hollow, numb – and then, the outpour of love from every single friend, family member, loved one, acquaintance, mutual, colleague, sister and brother fills it up. Ounce by ounce, some litre by litre, others in the galleons to the point it over spills.

The ‘how many Juz’s do you need me to read’, the ‘I’ll have one khatam completed for you by tomorrow’, the ‘I’ll sort out your car’, the ‘this is how you apply for an assignment extension’, the ‘do you need me to bring food’, the ‘I’m praying for your mum’, the ‘what do you need from me’, the ‘don’t hesitate, please tell me’, the ‘I love you’s’, ‘please stay hydrated’, ‘I’m supporting and adore you’, ‘I’m holding you’. All of it. Every single text, every (missed) call, voice note, every ‘I’m just checking in’, every ‘no pressure to reply but I’m here and I’m praying for you all’ – they filled up the tank. In turn, this allowed me to be present for my family the way I needed to be, because I was being held up elsewhere.

Throughout this grief, I haven’t been able to sleep, and yesterday was my first day back home, away from my family - my friend stayed with me on the phone until five, discussing this grief and life and death, love and healing and we shared stories of our grandmothers until finally I was tired enough to fall asleep without getting lost in my head.

The way we love, comes back to us. Wholly, fully, completely - It always comes back. The same way my Grandma was loved and her face shone with noor, I’ve been glowing in the love of others this week. And thus, my navigating this grief was bearable. Cripplingly sad, (I honestly have no more tears left to cry) but bearable.

Life resumes

Such is life that the world goes on after death and loss. Inevitably our loved ones are left behind but stay in our memories and hearts and we go on. In the moving forward, may the love always remain. May we remain soft, thoughtful and kind, and remember this life is short and this world isn’t it. This world is a number of days, every whim, every desire, every hope that fails, every struggle we get lost in, every ache we are convinced will finish us, it’s all but a matter of days. Forever is promised, but this isn’t it. But here’s to the forever and getting there, with everyone we love. Until then, bittersweetly, life resumes.

[jannatulfaviha]

Bangla Broken Heart | Breakup Story | Sad Love Story Bangla | Bangla Story |

[sanasharmame]

Video Status Downloader 2020 Android App - Video Song Free Download for Whatsapp Status

Video Status Downloader 2020 Android App - Video Song Free Download for Whatsapp Status

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