Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Mindset

তোমারেই করিয়াছি জীবনের ধ্রুবতারা

Gitanjali-5

Rabindranath Thakur

VLOG - 1 (Coffee Date with Bestie)

I have started this segment to lowkey turn my tumblr into an YouTube channel.

Today, at the coffee shop me and my bestie had the most unhinged gossips, discussions, life decisions, academic downfall, academic comeback, dating and what not. Told her about my depression. While having coffee we laugh at our jokes and continuously we said "ebar free lagche"...

This year was really a tough one. Specially for us because of some highly nonsense reasons. Anyways but genuinely had fun...

Love you Tamu! You deserve the world!! 🎀💗

Madhabi Mukherjee —

Somebody said this very wisely, toxic is not when they're bad to you, toxic is when they're bad to you on some days and good on others, it's when they're so inconsistent with their love that you spend most of your time wondering if you should stay or leave.

Drink coffee, then walk for 1hr, overthink for sometime, think about the pros and cons like what my life would be if I stop making me feel bad and what my life would be if I make me feel bad..

Ask this to yourself, look in the mirror and say:+

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

I AM SO UPSET I ACT LIKE ITS MY BIRTHDAY EVERYDAY

I AM SO OBSESSED WITH HIM BUT HE AVOIDS ME

LIKE A PLAGUE

YOU KNOW YOUR GOOD WHEN YOU CAN EVEN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

I really really really want to kill my feelings. It's hurting me. But I just cannot. I cannot, till I'm alive. Every inch of me is getting hurt but still I'm letting it burn bright inside me. Maybe it making me glow while perishing everything within.

Ananya Chatterjee, Abohomaan (2009)

পরিনীতা সিনেমার একটা সিন আছে, যেখানে শুভশ্রী বলে,'আমায় ভালোবাসলে না কেন বাবাইদা?আমাকে ভালোবাসলেতো আজ জীবনটা অন্য রকম হতো!'

আমার আরেকটা পছন্দের মুভি আছে Forrest Gump(1994) যেখানে জেনি কে গাম্প জিজ্ঞেস করে 'Why don't you love me, Jenny?I am not a smart man,but I know what love is.'

-কি অসম্ভব মন ভার করা দুটো লাইন।আমরা সবাই হয়তো কাউকে না কাউকে এইটা জিজ্ঞাসা করতে চাই যে-আমায় কেন ভালোবাসলে না?কিন্তু আমরা কেউই জিজ্ঞেস করতে পারিনা।কাউকেই জিজ্ঞাসা করা যায়না।কারণ শুনতে রূঢ় হলেও এটাই সত্যি যে-

'Unfortunately, People have the rights to decline your love no matter how pure your intention are! You are not what they want.'

Its hard to accept the reality when the person was never yours..

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.

YOU'RE BACKKKKKKKKK

Mastii