You will copy with risks to penalties and criminal procedures.
দিশারী পাবলিক লাইব্রেরির সাহিত্য সংকলন "ধ্বনি" --
জানুয়ারি ২৮ কলকাতা বইমেলায় মোড়ক উন্মোচন।
প্রাপ্তিস্থান :
কলকাতা বইমেলায় - কমলিনী স্টলে।
এছাড়া :
কলকাতা, কলেজ স্ট্রিটে - দে'জ পাবলিশিং
বাংলাদেশ - বাতিঘর
মার্কিন যুক্তরাষ্ট্র - www.bookmaniac.com
পাওয়া যাবে সানফ্রান্সিস্কো, কলকাতা এবং ঢাকায়। ধ্বনির মোড়ক উন্মোচনের দিনক্ষণ জানার জন্য ফলো করুন দিশারী পাবলিক লাইব্রেরির পেইজ।
Nyra stood on the skybridge, purple hair darkened by the drizzle. Below her, traffic streamed like veins of light, autonomous cars gliding in obedient lines. Holographic billboards flickered faces and promises she had learned to ignore.
She held the shard—thin, translucent, alive with scrolling glyphs. Not glass. Not quite data either. Memory.
The shard pulsed once, recognizing her biometrics, then unfolded a truth the city had buried.
Nyra Vale had been designed to forget.
***
Want to read more?
Spring is not a miracle; it is a certainty. It arrives because life moves in cycles. Because endings are never absolute.
No hardship is final, no darkness permanent. What feels like an endless winter is only a passage, and growth is already on its way. Even when the world is bare, and breath feels heavy, the earth is preparing to bloom again.
The day I was proven wrong. Again.
Years ago, I wrote a post about how my faith in humanity was restored when a couple found my wallet and returned it to me when I was in Noida.
(Old Post here)
History repeats itself.
I lost my wallet on December 31, 2025.
But I didn’t realize it until I needed to go out today and couldn’t find it anywhere in my house.
The first thing I did was check my security cameras to check if I was wearing it on my shoulder like I usually do.
It wasn’t there. I thought that there was a likelihood of me putting it in a grocery bag because I had too much to carry.
Sangram went dumpster diving, in case I had put it in one of the brown grocery bags and forgotten about it. Nada.
I had called the last Uber driver I made a trip with, using the “Find a lost item” option. First, he didn’t pick up. Probably busy with a ride. Second time, he picked and said that he had my wallet with me and had been trying to find my contact number but he couldn’t reach me because Uber said No contact policy.
He found it and kept it safe. That is all that mattered. I promised him a reward if he got it back for me. He said to text me the address and that he could reach me in 10 mins.
Those 10 mins were the longest wait of my life.
I am not who I used to be twenty years ago. I don’t feel things the same way. I have seen people act too selfishly and do petty things driven by their own interests.
But this instance of getting back what is valuable to me— not just in terms of money but what it signifies— my id cards, the wallet itself — which is a gift from my husband— means I can have my faith back for a little while more.
And it doesn’t matter how lost and distracted I feel, someone might find it in their heart to keep it safe and return what was lost.
A midlife crisis is not always about sports cars and bad decisions. It can be a creative awakening. A quiet voice saying, "Rewrite the script."
✅The version of you who wears red unapologetically
✅Say “I don’t want this anymore” without justification
✅No more emotional labor for XYZ
There is no expiration date on becoming.
Loving you
is loving a man unstuck in time.
Just when your laughter
begins to resonate in our house
and learns the shape of our hallway,
just when your hands remember
where my waist bends,
time grabs you by the collar
and pulls you away.
You leave at the peak—
when love is loud,
when the bed still holds heat,
when promises are mid-sentence.
And I am left
to live in echoes.
I pine in the afterglow of you,
warming myself on memories.
Your shirts smell of ordinary life—
coffee, your perfume, yesterday—
and I breathe them like oxygen
until today stops hurting.
Let’s talk about my husband-
Because apparently I am his emotional support STRESS BALL 🙄
While he treats work like his spouse.
First of all—
He LOVES his job
Too much.
Aggressively,
Romantically,
Like he’s in a relationship with his laptop,
And I am the “other” woman 👩🏻 😫😭
The moment Teams pings
His whole body activates—
He sits up straight,
Cracks his knuckles,
Whispers,
“I’ll just finish this one thing…”
LIES.
Fake news.
Propaganda.
That “one thing” has a beginning, a middle, a sequel, and a spin-off series.
