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Memoir: The Compliment I Never Expected

It was 22nd May, 2026. I was standing at Bally Halt bus stop, already late and in a hurry. For some reason, no buses were coming. Almost 20 minutes passed before I finally got a bus heading toward Biswa Bangla Gate. The bus was overcrowded because very few buses were running that day. The moment I stepped in, I noticed an empty seat just behind the driver and quickly grabbed it before someone else could. I sat down, exhausted, wiping sweat off my face after the chaotic wait. My earphones were on, and I was listening to Kadam Kadam Badhaye Ja, completely lost in my own world. After a few moments, from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone beside me trying to say something. A girl sitting in the ladies’ seat next to mine was looking at me. At first, I couldn’t hear her because of the music. I unplugged my earphones and leaned slightly closer. She smiled and said, “ May I say something to you, if you don’t mind? ” I replied, “ Yes. ” Then she said something I honestly never expected to ...
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Silence

I found myself silent among my friends. They were laughing… talking… sharing stories… living loudly in the moment. And I was there too. Sitting beside them. Smiling sometimes. Nodding sometimes. But mostly… quiet. And in that quiet… I slowly started feeling invisible. Not because they ignored me. But because no one really saw what was happening inside me. They speak so easily. Words come to them like breathing. But for me… words travel a long distance before they reach my lips. Because before I speak, I feel everything. I think deeply. I imagine endlessly. I am a great thinker. Inside my mind, there is an entire world of imagination. A world where conversations happen that never existed… where emotions grow without sound… where I live a thousand lives without moving an inch. While they speak about what happened… I live what could happen. While they react… I reflect. And sometimes… that world inside me feels more real than the one outside. But no one sees that. They only see a quiet per...
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Red Flag vs Green Flag

I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole “red flag vs green flag” thing lately… and honestly, it’s messing with my head more than I expected. Everywhere I look, people have opinions. Some say girls are attracted to red flags — the unpredictable ones. The emotionally intense ones. The ones who don’t always reply on time, who are a little rough around the edges, a little complicated, a little dangerous in an emotional way. They say unpredictability creates excitement. That emotional ups and downs make people feel more alive. That chaos can feel addictive. And when I hear that… I wonder if being calm and decent is just… boring. But then I hear the opposite. Some girls say they want green flags — someone stable, kind, emotionally available, respectful, gentle. Someone who makes them feel safe instead of confused. Someone who listens, understands, and stays consistent. And when I hear that… I wonder if being intense or unpredictable just pushes people away. So where does that leave me? Som...
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Paired With None

হতে পারলাম না কারোর হৃদস্পন্দন, হতে পারলাম না কারোর চোখের আসক্তি কোনোক্ষণ। যে কারোর খেয়ালে আসে না কোনোদিন, তেমনই অভাগা আমি… নীরব, একাকী প্রতিদিন। I write, I express, I pour pieces of myself into my blogs - yet they remain unread, unseen, almost as if they were never meant to exist. Lately, a strange thought has been growing inside me… that maybe I am insignificant to the universe itself. Humans love nature because we belong to it. We are shaped by connection - friendships that grow from chance encounters, love that blossoms from shared moments, bonds that feel almost destined. For most people, relationships seem to unfold naturally, like seasons changing. But for me, it has never felt that simple… or that natural. I tried to change myself - not just a little, but completely. I reshaped my personality, my habits, even my thoughts, believing that if I became more lovable, someone would eventually choose me. I tried harder, waited longer, hoped deeper. But in the end, nothing changed. It...
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I finally gave up on God

I finally gave up on God. Not because I wanted to. But because I tried again and again to believe, and it slowly stopped making sense. I prayed for things. I begged. I asked with hope. But most of the time, nothing happened. Some good things did happen in my life. But honestly, those things came because of hard work, not prayer. We work day and night, we struggle, we stay consistent—and when success comes, we say “God did it.” But it was our effort. Our pain. Our discipline. When my father was sick, I completely broke. I cried in front of God. I prayed more than ever before. I truly believed God would save him. But God didn’t. My father died. After that, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. If God exists and still does nothing, then what is the point? To me, God felt like someone who only watches—silent, distant, doing nothing. So for me, God does not exist. Or even if God exists, He has no power to change things. For me, hard work is God. Hard work gives results. Hard work changes life. ...
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Memoir: When Krishna Wasn’t Fair Enough

I still remember that day—I was in Class 6. The sky was cloudy, and a light drizzle had made the school ground smell of wet mud. Our class teacher, Mrs. Lata, had just entered with a big smile and announced, “This year, our class will perform a play on Lord Krishna’s life for Janmashtami!” All of us became so excited. Hands shot up for roles—Radha, Sudama, Balram—and then, the most special one, Krishna. I don’t know what gave me the courage that day, but I slowly raised my hand and said, “Ma’am, can I be Krishna?” Some of my classmates looked at me in silence… and then, they started laughing. “You? Krishna?” “Arey, Krishna was handsome…” “Tui toh kalo!” “Krishna looks divine, not like you!” Their words cut deeper than I could understand at that age. I stood there, awkward and frozen, pretending like it didn’t affect me. But my heart was shaking. And then, our teacher smiled and said, “Let’s give the Krishna role to Arnav, he’s perfect for it.” Arnav was tall, with a sharp nose and fair...
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Darjeeling Da: The Motivation of My Gym Days at Bangalore

After moving to Bangalore, I found myself in a new city, surrounded by strangers and unfamiliar streets. In search of stability and a routine, I joined FZ Fitness Club in Electronic City—thanks to a suggestion from my friend, Biki. Initially, it was just the two of us trying to stick to our workouts. But gradually, the gym turned into something much more than a place for lifting weights—it became a second home filled with friendships I never expected. There was Dharma, the Kannada coach with a serious passion for fitness. Anuraj, the energetic Goan trainer. Nishat, the arm-wrestling enthusiast from Karnataka. And Shravan, the silent but focused Malayali guy who always trained with quiet intensity. Slowly, everyone became part of my circle. But among them all, one person left a mark that will last a lifetime—Ruben Lamadey, we used to call him as Darjeeling Da. He was a Gorkha, proud and strong—not just physically, but in spirit. With a solid build, a heartwarming smile, and the discipli...
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