শুভ মহাষ্টমী

সর্বার্থসাধিকে,

জীবন যদি দুর্গোৎসব হয় তবে তুমি আমার অষ্টমী।
আমার প্রেম হোক অষ্টমীর অঞ্জলি,
আমার আকুলতা হোক পুষ্প,
আমার আবেগ হোক প্রসাদ,
মঙ্গলারতি আমার অনুরাগ,
একশ আট প্রদীপ হোক আমার আনন্দ,
আমার শৌর্য হোক পূজাউপাচার
আমার নৃত্যকলা হোক তোমার বিনোদন
আমার উচ্ছাস হোক তোমার ভোগ
আমার ত্রিশূল হোক তোমার ভরসা
আমার প্রগল্ভতা হোক তোমার পুষ্পমালা
আমার আনন্দ হোক তোমার আভরণ;
তুমি একবার তোমার দুর্গোৎসবে আমায় সামিল কর, বুঝিয়ে দের কতদূর সমর্পিত হতে পারি।
ইতি,
তোমার মহেশ্বর

©জয়ী

It’s not a past

Past (adj.)

You are not your past
you are not what you’ve gone through
you are not your past mistakes or flaws…

So do people say? Past has a poignant significant in our daily life.

A nation without an envious past is probably illiterate or dying inside.
A family without a past is hated by all.
A kingdom without a past was a kingdom of darkness.

Even devil has a past. Most of the devils were once the angels. A slave was once a king.

You must have a past; you are almost nothing without a past. You must build a bright future but never overlooking your past; your past is your second skin, it is like an invisible tattoo; no matter what you do, you can’t erase it.

Philosophy says past is nostalgia. Most of us believe past is a maze and we should concentrate in present. But truly, past is a bit of looking back to look ahead.

A tale of white mischiefs

One starts his day with a glass of milk

One offers white flowers to the white goddess Saraswati

One pours pure milk on Lord Shiva

One loves to observe people from a white Porsche

One thinks himself a king and rides on a white horse

One still searches a white unicorn

One broke boy shows himself busy with a white smartphone

One loves to forget daily struggles sleeping on a white bed

One imagines figures in white clouds

One still saves a white feather for his love

One goes to celebrate “White nights festival” in Russia

One waits for the white pigeon to forward letters

One relishes on white sauce pasta

One ignites the taste buds with coconut milk

One finds heaven in white cheesecake

One tries to understand the politics of White House

One tries to understand the significance of being ‘white’

One hates to wear white being a widow

One never minds to keep a white elephant

One fails to recognize white feathered friends!!

©Joyee
ig: joyee_sorceress
Pic courtesy: Pinterest

 

The shade of yellow

The afternoon was sunny. We fought with words and slayed each other with the swords of hatred and love. And you left never looking back, never giving a fig. Your yellow dress slowly mingled with other people walking in the busy street. I stood there, alone, motionless, broken and upset. I looked at the street lights, the crowd and felt the boisterous noises surrounding me. I found myself standing before a very famous café and people inside might be engaged either in small talks or heavy conversations. They might be enjoying their cappuccino or espresso. The lights inside the cafe were pale yellow. That very shade of yellow carries a color of frustration. I lit up a cigarette.

By chance, my eyes caught a couple inside the café; they were too adorable, intensely engrossed in each other, sipping the cold coffee from the same long glass. I felt bad…for myself, for my girlfriend and for our love.

Evening is the time when you are bound to be alone or sad. I tried to control myself, stop my tears, tried to look at other girls walking in stilettos and hotpants. I tried to avert myself from her thoughts. I lit up another cigarette. The smoldering fire was trying to calm me down. I remembered how many counters we shared. Again my eyes rolled into the cafe. The lights inside were still dim but slightly brighter than earlier due to the upcoming darkness. And finally it darkened. I decided to have something from the cafe and walked inside. The sweet creamy pastry seemed insipid to me and the milky coffee didn’t give me any charm. I ordered a cupcake. It came in a white dish; the cake topped with a little chocolate ball and a little candy floss. Surprisingly I enjoyed it like girls do. I enjoyed the cupcake as if she was with me. Slowly, the thought separation walked out of my head and I only thought of the still fresh memories. I remembered how much she loved the cupcakes.

I looked at the streets. A child was selling roses. Another child was busy selling balloons to a child sitting inside a car. I packed a box of cakes and went outside. The busy city walks around, rides bikes and cars never showing some love to the street children.

When I distributed the cakes among children I saw the café lights glowing in brightest shade of yellow.

©Joyee

Everyone pretends to be happy

Everyone pretends to be happy

Everyone says ‘I’m fine’

Everyone shows he/she is happy with job, salary, fiancé

Everyone says he/she is in the same page with lovers, friends, family

Everyone gives effort to be beautiful

Everyone spends time and money to be fair

Everyone keeps the smile curve on face

Sadly,

No one is happy with his/her life

No one is watching the sunny sky

No one is okay with parents or lovers

Everyone is complaining about his/her life

Everyone is broken, sad, sceptic

No one is trying to break the false façade

No one is showing the real self

No one is confiding

No one can go with the idea of being poor

No one can tolerate the idea of being obsolete or oddball

This is the society we live in. we always perform like actors. We forget to be the real one.

 

Text

Went to Venice
wore the Venetian masks,
enjoyed gondola ride,
kissed against the bridge railing…

Went to New York
counted the skyscrapers,
walked down Times Square,
dreamt “Maid in Manhattan” kinda love,
cried over Twin Towers…

Went to Paris
enjoyed French opera,
ate macaroons,
kissed under the Eiffel Tower

Went to Amsterdam,
tied love-lock in the bridge,
threw the key in the water

Went to London
enjoyed the vintage charms,
took selfie in front of Big Ben,
loved the city from London Eye,

All of these happened inside our heads over Whatsapp texts.

©Joyee