Category Archives: Uncategorized

21st February

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bengali_Language_Movement

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1971_Dhaka_University_massacre

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1971_Bangladesh_genocide

আমার ভাইয়ের রক্তে রাঙানো একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি
আমি কি ভুলিতে পারি
ছেলেহারা শত মায়ের অশ্রু গড়ায়ে ফেব্রুয়ারি
আমি কি ভুলিতে পারি
আমার সোনার দেশের রক্তে রাঙানো ফেব্রুয়ারি
আমি কি ভুলিতে পারি।।

জাগো নাগিনীরা জাগো নাগিনীরা জাগো কালবোশেখীরা
শিশু হত্যার বিক্ষোভে আজ কাঁপুক বসুন্ধরা,
দেশের সোনার ছেলে খুন করে রোখে মানুষের দাবী
দিন বদলের ক্রান্তিলগ্নে তবু তোরা পার পাবি?
না, না, না, না খুন রাঙা ইতিহাসে শেষ রায় দেওয়া তারই
একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি।

সেদিনও এমনি নীল গগনের বসনে শীতের শেষে
রাত জাগা চাঁদ চুমো খেয়েছিল হেসে;
পথে পথে ফোটে রজনীগন্ধা অলকনন্দা যেন,
এমন সময় ঝড় এলো এক খ্যাপা বুনো।।

সেই আঁধারের পশুদের মুখ চেনা,
তাহাদের তরে মায়ের, বোনের, ভায়ের চরম ঘৃণা
ওরা গুলি ছোঁড়ে এদেশের প্রাণে দেশের দাবীকে রোখে
ওদের ঘৃণ্য পদাঘাত এই সারা বাংলার বুকে
ওরা এদেশের নয়,
দেশের ভাগ্য ওরা করে বিক্রয়
ওরা মানুষের অন্ন, বস্ত্র, শান্তি নিয়েছে কাড়ি
একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি।।

তুমি আজ জাগো তুমি আজ জাগো একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি
আজো জালিমের কারাগারে মরে বীর ছেলে বীর নারী
আমার শহীদ ভায়ের আত্মা ডাকে
জাগো মানুষের সুপ্ত শক্তি হাটে মাঠে ঘাটে বাটে
দারুণ ক্রোধের আগুনে আবার জ্বালবো ফেব্রুয়ারি
একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি একুশে ফেব্রুয়ারি।।

( My Brothers Blood Spattered 21 February
Can I forget the twenty-first of February
incarnadined by the love of my brother?
The twenty-first of February, built by the tears
of a hundred mothers robbed of their sons,
Can I ever forget it?
Wake up all serpents,
wake up all summer thunder-storms,
let the whole world rise up
in anger and protest against the massacre of innocent children.
They tried to crush the demand of the people
by murdering the golden sons of the land.
Can they get away with it
at this hour when the times are poised
for a radical change?
No, no, no, no,
In the history reddened by blood
the final verdict has been given already
by the twenty-first of February.

It was a smooth and pleasant night,
with the winter gone nearly
and the moon smiling in the blue sky
and lovely fragrant flowers blossoming on the roadside,
and all of a sudden rose a storm,

fierce like a wild horde of savage beasts.
Even in the darkness we know who those beasts were.
On them we shower the bitterest hatred
of all mothers brothers and sisters.
They fired at the soul of this land,
They tried to silence the demand of the people,
They kicked at the bosom of Bengal.
They did not belong to this country.
They wanted to sell away her good fortune.
They robbed the people of food, clothing and peace.
On them we shower our bitterest hatred.

Wake up today, the twenty-first of February.
do wake you, please.
Our heroic boys and girls still languish in the prisons of the tyrant.
The souls of my martyred brothers still cry.
But today everywhere the somnolent strength
of the people have begun to stir
and we shall set February ablaze
by the flame of our fierce anger.
How can I ever forget the twenty-first of February? )

war death

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A rainy night of December

It’s a story about me and her. Back in 2004.

It’s the time when I was in college, young, athletic, mean and strong. When I knew it all, I used do all things that I want to do in this world. And then there was her, awfully cute like a baby doll, like a little angle in the face of the earth. She was the daughter of my mom’s friend, Anita aunty, actually a junior of my mom in her college days.

They were good friends, my mom and Anita aunty; there was always a talk of marriage between me and her daughter, really lame, as I always thought. I always hated her, puffy cheeks, baby face; plump her, spoilt brat, always used to find a way to irritate me. I was 22 then, she was hardly 17.

Anita aunty and her husband Nilesh uncle use to visit us quite often, with her of course, their beloved daughter, their only child. Almost everyone was so fond of her, mom, dad, all. Mostly all, except me. I always looked at her as an extremely spoilt brat of rich parents. Airhead, always jumps around, stupid and dreamy and most of all irritating. Just like typical teenage girls.

As her school was on the way to my college, often I had to bear the request of picking her up from her place and drop her at the school. Sometimes I had picked her up from the school to home as well. I always hated that and she always enjoyed it.

It was the month of December. As my mom and Anita aunt, both were big time fans of temple and puja, always use to go around the state and sometimes even the whole nation to attend all the religious functions; they were to leave for a place around 300 km away. They did not want to take her as she was too much trouble. They punished me, for nothing. They left her in my house with me as a nanny. Whole day, she made my life hell. In every two minutes she wanted chocolate or ice cream, every 2nd hour demanding to take her for a movie, jumping around in the whole house, speaking loud in her mobile with her useless friends.

Somehow the whole day past. It was evening then. It started raining, heavily. Well I don’t know what the connection between girls, rains and thunders are.  Every time it rains they run to dance in it and every time it thunders they run back. That was pretty much happening, on the first floor, in the balcony of my room. I was working on my laptop and watching her and cursing myself, her and the rain.

And then I looked at her, for a long time. She never used to dress properly. That day also, she was a wearing a white pajama and a thin light yellow top and I kind of knew that she didn’t wear anything under them. Then it happened. Guess a thunder bolt hit some tree nearby, and I heard the loudest cracking sound of my life. I ran towards the balcony and she ran straight at me. We almost collided to each other and her soft body sank into mine. She started crying instantly. I was scared if she was hit by the thunder or something, so I hold her and took a long look at her. Her clothes were not able to hide even one part of her body. Her breasts were firm and nipples were stiff, her naval so deep and as it went down further, her womanhood wasn’t really covered in those white, wet and soaked pajamas. I carried her in my arms to the bathroom, she was crying and shivering, after all it was a rainy December evening. I removed all her clothes and dried her up with a towel. I was seeing her since her childhood but never noticed how much she had changed, or should I say how much her body was changed. I carried her back to the room and gave her a shorts and t-shirt of mine. She was still crying, I tossed her on my bed.

And then the power was gone. The room was dark except the little light of the laptop screen. I shouted at her not go again and play in the rain and sat in front of my laptop. In reality, I wasn’t able to forget the way she looked in the bathroom without anything on her.

After a while, she got up from the bed, walked to me and jumped onto my lap. Wrapping her arms around my neck and hiding her face in my chest, she declared in a crying voice that the bed is too dark and the thunderstorms were really making her scared. I didn’t answer her, pretended to be busy in my work, or was I?

It was hardly 5 minutes and our lips were locked to each other. That was probably the longest kiss of my life, it was like forever. My hands were all over her, rubbing, pressing and caressing each and every part of her. Every bulge of her body was going through the intensive inspections of my fingers, again and again. I pulled off the t-shirt and the shorts, and she was sitting on my lap, just the same way I saw her in the hospital, the day she born. I slowly pushed my hands between her thighs and twitched, squeezed and explored her womanhood. I could see the shameful and painful expressions in her face and somehow I was enjoying a cruel, sadistic happiness. I did that till she begged me to stop. Then I lifted her and threw her in the bed and started kissing and biting every inch of her body. She felt like a soft stuffed toy with whom I wanted to play for ages. Her sweet moans and pleads were driving me mad. I was on top of her and it seemed both of our bodies were burning. Burning in passion and ecstasy.

I was around her, surround her and inside her. She bit my shoulder so hard, so hard that I felt that my shoulder was bleeding. Probably that was her last resort to suppress her scream. I was riding in her, slowly at first and then faster and harder. She was almost senseless; her teeth were clinching onto my shoulder. It was painful, but I knew it was nothing compared to what she was going through. Her cute face was full of sweats and tears, eyes were closed so firmly.

The time lost its counts. After a long while, I slid down from top of her, it was a sense of emptiness, pureness.  She rolled on top of me. She was crying and asking me if I love her the way she does.

I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know…… what to do!!


Facebook & Lesbianism in India

I mean what is with the girls (especially Indian girls) now a days. As Facebook is growing on this country, seems like the girls are getting more lesbianish. I know that word is grammatically wrong but I don’t have any other words to describe this syndrome. Here are some comments I have read on girls Facebook profiles, mostly the comments are on their so called ‘PIX’ or on their wall. Check ‘em out…….

1)      OMG!! You look so cute, I love you

2)      Can’t biliv its you, muwaaaahhhh…

3)      Where did u tk tht pic?? ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

4)      You are the cutest!!!!!!! Plzzzz marry meeeee

These are the comments posted by girls on their friends’ pictures and profiles. Now tell me what am I suppose to understand from all these? That they are normal friends?? Or is it like a bunch girls hitting on another girl???

Is Facebook promoting lesbianism in India???

 

I am so confused. I could have consoled my mind thinking probably this is the 21st century trend of girlies showing love to girlies. But how on earth they gonna justify their relationship status??? Janani ‘married’ to Srinidhi? Aishwarya ‘committed’ to Asha? Saniya in an ‘open relationship with’ Divya, Fathima & Annie? That’s the scariest of the bunch. Hell sometimes it feels like the whole city turning into a lesbian circus. Now that hurts. Already in our so called culture the guys and the girls have no freedom to even date properly. Counted beautiful chicks and countless losers have already made the scenario of this country an uncertain one. And now this???? Lesbianism was never been a matter of taboo for Indian guys with few conditions applied.  I remember a funny incident of my friend Samar and his girl friend.

Samar’s gf: (Weeping) I am sorry Samar, I cheated on you last night.

Samar: What????? WTF????

Samar’s gf: Ya, but it was never my fault (Now crying).

Samar: (Red faced and clinched teeth) Tell me that bastard’s name…. TELL ME!! BITCH…

Samar’s gf: It’s my roomy Swati. She brought these CDs and we were watching them, I don’t know what got into her. She seduced me. AAAAAnnnnnn (Crying loud).

Samar: (With a relieved smile) That’s ok baby, don’t cry now… common. Now I can forgive you. If you just let me join you and Swati next time.

 

So you see we Indian men were never skeptical about lesbianism. We never had a problem watching one chick climb on another if only we are next one in queue. But looks like girls are all set to corner we guys and ready to do things by their own. Situation is very alarming and critical. Cause if a girl give her friend a friendly kiss, we call sweet. If she gives her a lesbian kiss, we call it sexy. And if a guy kisses his guy friend, we call it…………… YUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!####@@@@@