Nishi’s Story - a little true story .

ছবি
                Nishi’s Story -                   a little true story . (গল্পটি বাংলা ভাষায় পড়তে , নিচে চলে যান।)👇 It’s deep into the night. Silence wraps everything, as if the night itself is holding its breath, leaning softly against the hills. I open the window and gaze up at the sky—searching for a sliver of crescent moon. But the towering hills hide most of the sky. I feel that if the hills just stepped aside, the moon would peek out and smile. A quiet ache wells up inside my chest. From that ache, I pick up my pen and paper, and a baby poem is born. I name it—“The Shyness of the Night.” I wake up to find my sister-in-law standing with a cup of coffee, a mischievous smile on her lips. Sitting at the breakfast table, she teases me, “So, who’s Nishi?” I laugh and say, “Nishi means the night. And what kind of poet hasn’t fallen in love with the night?” She smiles softly and offers me another cup of...

Paranormal Activity

 It was now 1.23 pm, I was listening to the story of Taranath Tantric. Today I slept without eating. So he got hungry. I didn't want to get up, but I got up, opened the fridge and took MOJO, I still have half of the 2 liter bottle, I took the wrapper with me, after that I turned off the light and went inside the mosquito net. I started listening to the story of Taranath Tantric again, after that I was eating by the light of my mobile phone and listening to the story, but after a while I realized that I am not just listening to the story, I am also eating and thinking about something, friends.. I can't talk about my thoughts. Not all ideas can be spoken. Outside, the



sky is humming, and the electricity is playing after a while, it has been raining for a long time, the window has to be closed, and I can't write anymore today. I lay down - a little cockroach baby in a corner on a mosquito net, like this I often read about problems, and talking about mosquitoes is useless, I kill them every day. After a while I get up and see if my children are sleeping or not. I sat down to write again today. Everyone is sleeping now. I was scared that day. Because that day, I suddenly felt, after finishing the kitchen room, someone passed in front of me. I was scared silently but could not say anything. If father was alive, I would definitely do something. At least I could give a shout. Today I am a father, if I shout? My family will be scared. So fathers never have to fear. But since I am a Muslim, I have to believe because the Quran is in the Sharif. And I have seen evidence of such evidence, or that they exist, before. However, in our house for some time now, their footsteps have been felt. 1:47 PM, I will share one of their incidents in the next blog. And that's how they exist. 

                 thank you .

                      (  collection)

মন্তব্যসমূহ

এই ব্লগটি থেকে জনপ্রিয় পোস্টগুলি

Respect Facebook.com

মনের খোরাক ( একটি ছোট গল্প)

My friend is the story of cut tails and fat rats./ বন্ধু আমার লেজকাটা ও বয়রা ইঁদুরের গল্প।

A short story (Mona Lisa and chess)

This guava leaf is a great medicine for these two feminine diseases.

প্রিয় শিক্ষাগুরু/Dear teacher (A short true story)

হৃদয়ের ঝড় -