SIXTH SENSE

Waiting for some droplets, under the open sky. Chilly night blowing into the bones, sans sensation... ...standing like a stony bust, No vision in the dusty eyes. Hit! Some dew drops may hit my veins. Wish! I may rise again... ...to flesh.

Here, there is no tension! Nothing creeps in, To create sensation. No protocol to follow, No grandeur to be impressed... And for a simple man, I have no connection to maintain. No ambition to sustain 'lofty' pain!Life here a virgin vegetation. Time waits here to let me enjoyThe rhythm of rain! Feel no fascination to build high rises, To bring D e s e r ti fi c a ti o n Here on my lush green terrain. None sends me bouquet when I sleep After a dose of 'vaccination'. You know,I loved and wedded a country maid, Who knows not how to push her man to 'succeed'. We take our tea undisturbed. We have no etiquette to eat! We just drink life as it comes! Might I do better with a princess? Might! Yet I don't miss the parties I might join! Here I keep my parties Prospero comes there or her daughter. Or rather Oliver comes to loiter. So is my 'life'. Now tell about your's. Heard about your 'successes'...

It was a full moon today… with the brilliant and seductive moon, The shining moonlit night became surreal one The moon seemed to have come to meet With a mermaid… And a stupid boy also came, In this enchanting night… And waited beside the shore to meet her… The mermaid… He waited……waited When his friends came to take him home He refused to leave-such a moon… But he waited for his mermaid… It was such a beautiful night though. Deep at night when; The moon went behind the dark clouds, He fell asleep on the sandy sea shore… (Bechara ovimane klanto hoe ghumie poresilo... ) When at last, The coy mermaid came and; Find the boy; he was sleeping Bending his hand under his head …like a little kid She wiped the dirt on his forehead and Combed his disheveled hairs with Her rosy beautiful fingers … By that time, the orange omelet sun Started to rise… The mermaid left the boy giving a… On his cheeks and dipped into the sea again... The boy awake when sun stroked his eyes… ...he found a nice and kno...

Just one day to go before Eid! I was returning to my country home in the North Bengal. After several hours of writhing and maneuverings, we could leave the chaos of Dhaka. It seemed, we were a part of a long caterpillar moving slowly out of the city as so many vehicles were moving along... An exhausting experience indeed. But after crossing the Jamuna Bridge, the situation started to change. Traffic was unlike the other side of the bridge. Vehicles were far less in number. It was winter night; sky was cloudy with a moon trying to invade the cloak of fog. It was possible to taste the rural and real Bangladesh now.  People were in bed apparently as clock had stroked 12 long ago.  Occasionally we were passing small villages where 2-3 tea stalls were being seen with kupi bati with 2-3 people still gossiping and... then vast tracts of crop land.   It was a unique experience; how silence can create beauty! Other buses were overtaking or crossing us sometimes. Otherwise there was no sound ex...

"He was a medical student. One day, in his practical anatomy class, he found the fresh body he was going to dissect was his fiancée's…" "Then? What happened next?" You know what happened or might happen if it were you! "You are spoilt! Literature has spoilt you. Better not talking to you." He departs. My brother, whom I was talking to, is a bright medical student, argues often with me why I don't get good grades. I am studying literature. Not only my brother, all of my peers have been getting great good grades in their respective subjects. And me; engaged in an eternal romance escaping from study! Or really do I? Yes I call it romance. What else? When I read the poems by Keats written after being inspired by the Greek classical literature, I can identify myself and remain engrossed by it. The worlds of the Keats' Odes become mine when I read those. Though I don't possess the mastery over words like him to express my feelings, I feel the g...

"Confident person does not fall in love, weak person does"- Bacon Heart seems fallen in love, Not the brain, Brain says; be careful, Heart weeps in vain. Brutal brain does not care The petty heart’s pain. It has become so mundane… Sms based Sabbir ahmed osmani

Rain! When comes after much pain… Rain! When showers its loaded drops On desert like plain, It bears fruits once again. It’s rain. I may get few healing drops now… For vegitating my dried up terrain. May it rain! May it rain! Again… sabbir ahmed osmani

I want to live without ambition, Anxiety and glitzy aspiration. But they don’t seem leaving me, Rather pushing me… And trying to crush the pristine domain Of my imagination. sms based sabbir ahmed osmani

Aunt called me today evening, doctor told her, Abir did not need to visit him anymore. I felt much relieved. For the last three months we all were worried about her eight years old son; my little cousin Abir. It all started when we both had an eventful visit at a special place. But the succeeding months were more eventful. My uncle (my dad's cousin) and my aunt, both are employees of multinational companies. And their only son is the center of all their happiness. They always pamper him. Abir goes to one of the most expensive schools in Dhaka, gets everything from his parents; a child can imagine but remains confined in his little room except the school times. Lately he seemed lost his calm even with me-his best friend without any apparent reason. He couldn't tolerate home helps who usually took his care. His parents became worried for the change. But they failed to find any problem. One Saturday I proposed him to go with me somewhere unlike parks. He already lost his interest ...

"How are you doing son?" Oh Mom! I am tired, bored with exam preparation! Don't like to study anymore. I can't. "No darling! Only a few more days!" Well, this was not an innocent conversation between a mom and her son. The son was making the prelude to do something stupid by this intentional boredom! He had only seven days before his final exam. But I was really adamant for joining the river cruise fun! The February 29th cruise was organized by the Department of English, DU and supported by Department's Alumni Association. As the ticket read, 'please come within 7.30 in the morning in front of British Council (positively)' I spoilt my early morning sleep. Undoubtedly we were all positive (?) for the tour and so we could start as early as 8.30 for Sadarghat. A few of our teachers and their family members, a few members of alumni association and their family members , office staffs of the department and we around 200 students started our journey ...

Night seems so cute today, Putting millions of stars on her Deep black curly hair... Probably is waiting for one to fly together for A faraway island to Meet... sms based

Spring afternoon! Sky came putting an azure saree on to take part in the romancing! Seemed flirtatious enough to coax the loners like me! Sitting at a corner of the TSC, I was watching people enjoying their precious time! And lamenting being alone! Alone, alone all alone among the sea of jutis (couples) and such a day, it was! Near me was sitting a bare footed boy of barely seven years old with a faded red plastic basket in hand! His peculiar green eyes seemed confused-what was going on all around! I was trying to feel better by redirecting my attention from the couples! So I peeped into the red basket. There were few roses! Colours of the withered flowers became indiscernible. Seemed were not saleable ever! I asked him what was the matter! After struggling to get the meaning what he said, it was like this, he collected those from Shahbag wholesale flower market after failing to buy the costly good ones! But probably no one dared to care his dear by giving those in fear of … I was fee...

Never been so struck with any poem which complements the beloved’s eyes. But now with the real ones, I have been wounded! Ah! How poetic yet destructive! Such eyes! Such eyes! How innocently wild! Truly I have fallen for the eyes! For a pair of Mediterranean eyes! But it is real! I can’t tell how many poems I have read about eyes! But never believed the poet telling the truth! What might there be in a pair of eyes! I am sorry poets! I can feel sorry for things now for such eyes! It strikes the heart to stop beating, brain seems evaporate with the heating and everything moves when the eyelids moving! I know not whether I would ever again find those eyes! I would not blame anymore dear poets for your exaggeration! Please find me those eyes once more! Or lend me words to create one!

Making a mistake Is not the last thing on earth. Devil hardly makes any! Rather it is divine, When the maker Makes the devil loser... sms based sabbir ahmed osmani

After 17 years or so, we met today. It's incredible! Nothing less! I have met one of my childhood friends and her family today. We both lived in Libya for some dreamy days which we still remember with deep fondness. Those were the golden days of life-life in a beautiful oasis of Sahara desert. We were really good friends. I still remember the things we did specially one day, when... we decided to spend and play together. But we wanted to inform everyone that we decided not to include anyone but me and her. And we travelled across the whole neighbourhood to inform others(friends), we are not playing with you(other friends) today! And eventually sun had been set! We finished our play for that day and probably forever! Any way her brother who was a one year old kid, now a young man. And his father( my dad's colleague) and her mother-my mothers favourite have remained all the same persons with that warmness! I really won't forget the eventful reunion day! I am looking for some ...

I prefer to avoid the word most because, sometimes a few hundred bucks, a few solacing words become the most precious thing on earth. But a sensitive heart appears to me a precious thing whenever I think about it. May be every single person with a sensitive and caring heart will not write elegy sitting in a country church yard like that of Thomas Gray. But people lived around the person will always miss the fragrance. Well! Someone may find that person not be worthy enough to be a worldly person. The person may find himself burdened with the gift of sensitivity. But when he will find,he can think for others-others sorrows and happiness, he will understand the difference-the difference between those who only CAN think about themselves and him.

Waited hundreads of years for My Cinderella; and will wait For more... She may be doing her chore. somewhere... Keeping an eye, outside her door, May be in a rose garden to trim the leaves, While looking for someone with A red rose in hand, May be beside a window pane To find me on horseback, May be dreaming of a magic-boat To get on with me, For a far away island for forever... But Alas! I know not when I will Get bewitched by her... Though I know she is waiting, With a heart; full of sweetest emotion and Honest love for me- like me. ...Lord knows when he will let us meet...

Why I am not in LOVE? Why? To know the meanings of deprivation? Flirt with adulation? Taste the sweetness of longing? Enjoy the freedom? Experience the destruction of loneliness? Enjoy the unending romance with fantasy? Or really do I?

A few drops of tears shed… few sighs… some sweet memories, some unknown sweet emotions, some unfulfilled dreams have died… But these are not included in the news story. Who cares those petty things? John, a British soldier died in Basra, Iraq on his 24th birthday (bbc.com).Yes! This is the news. How did it happen? It was a bomb. Why it happened? Answer ……..!!! ??? !!! Someone from Britain, knows the answer will bring peace soon! Don't worry!

Recently we have bought an apartment in the old part of the city. Some people are not happy for it. But after spending few years, I know what the place can offer! With vibrant and rich cultural heritage, things here will certainly strike your sensory sensitivity and I feel simply great! My father also like it for its unique identity. People like to live in posh areas where living is a matter of prestige. But is that all? Life has things beyond such prestige! Certain dialect, wonderful food and lively lifestyle of old Dhaka will enliven you in such an unromantic city! As far as I know, in most of the cities in the world, old parts carry special significance. In Dhaka, it is also not otherwise. I also like it for the peculiar alleys and sub-alleys where moving requires extra maneuvers!!! But you are welcome indeed to get the real Bangladeshi hospitality (fusion style) with space and ample air at our home! Ha-ha! Welcome to old Dhaka!