A simple story…

As the car was crossing all the roads, Nadia was looking out of the window and wondering so many things have changed in last few years. After almost 5 years she is coming to her home from Australia. As the car reaches more closer to her home in Dhanmondi she feels butterfly in her stomach. It's a mixed feelings. Joy, as she will meet her Ma, uncles, cousins, sadness! As she has missed them so much, anxiety! What will be her family member's reaction to see her. When it reaches her home, she sees that her front gate still looks the same. The maid opens the gate and the car enters the house. She notices two drops of tears running down her chick. Nobody knows that she is coming. It will be a surprise for all.

Her Ma saw the car coming in, but she has never seen this car before. She stays alone in this big house now. All her offspring are living in Canada. Only Nadia is in Australia. Nadia, her most favorite daughter. The life of this house. The heart of any party, youngest and naughtiest one. When she last saw her she was 26 years old. Even at that age after coming from office she used to seat in her lap. People used to say that, this girl will always be kid. Nadia used to answer “ If I have kid some day, I will keep her in my lap, then I will seat in my Ma's lap. In this way 3 generation will be sitting on each other.”

Nadia got married. But after just 1 month she discerns that Nadia is changing. When ever she comes to see her she looks gloomy and when the time comes to go back to her in law's house she become tensed. This goes on for several months. Who ever sees Nadia, get a shock. Because she is so skinny, no charm is left in her face. But she doesn't say anything. She just replied its taking her to adjust with the food habit of new family. But just after 11 months of her marriage one day she came back and told her, “Ma I don't want to go back. I had enough”. She didn't say anything. Next day Nadia said everything in details. It's a long story. Some other day we will talk about it. Lets talk about the good side. As Nadia came back she started looking for a job. With her experience she got a very good job in the mean time she started the processing to pursue her Dream, to go abroad for higher study. She went to Australia. Her Ma supported her all the way. She new that this daughter of her will shine some day. She has completed her MBA there and now working in a renowned company. She doesn't know when Nadia will come back. She misses her so much. Today is her birthday.

As Nadia gets down from the car, her Ma gets a shock. She cant believe it. Nadia runs to her Ma and hugs her. Both of them starts crying. They get in to the house, Nadia says that she is not gonna go back and will settle in Bangladesh.

Then the story has a happy ending. Nadia is working in a well known multinational. She and her Ma go out for shopping, ice cream. They have a dog now named “Foxy”. They spend quality time together. After all, mother daughter relation is the most cherished one of all relation. Only a mother can provide unconditional love. So love your mother. Because she is the
one who will be by your side no matter what happen.

The writer forgot to include his/her name

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you? Would you tell me how could it be any better than this? - Lifehouse,

EVERYTHING' June in Dhaka brings long hours of sunshine punctuated with long hours of rain. When twilight falls, the wind breezes past the krishnachura boughs, carrying with it the scent of ripening mangoes and jackfruit. The wispy gray clouds scud across the starry skies. The smile of the moon lingers in the ripples of the muddy pools scattered across the roads.

I sat on the swing and pensively stared into the night. And even in the gathering darkness I felt the memories still lurking in the uneven hedges, in the contours of the swings. They still scampered past the clumps of grass that dotted the damp, soggy soil. But once the wind blew past, the memories died away. They died away, leaving in their place an emptiness that should've been filled by someone.

It was then that I heard gentle footsteps. Heard the swing next to me creak. And I felt a familiar feeling of joy racing through my veins.

'Makes you wonder, doesn't it?' an amused said from the next swing.

'The lure of original sin,' I said, and we both laughed.

My companion turned around and met my gaze. We just looked at each other for a long time, drinking in the tidings of our chanced meeting.

'Has anything changed?' he asked.

I pondered. It was a difficult question to answer. Of course, a lot had changed in two years. That was quite obvious. But I knew that that wasn't what he meant.

I turned to him. 'They have,' I replied. 'But no matter how much things change, they still remain the same.'

He mulled over my words for a while. I observed the long, dark face, the chiseled features, the dark pools of his eyes. He hadn't changed at all.

'What about you?' I asked, breaking the silence. 'Did anything change?'

He looked at me, his eyes almost melting with emotion. 'I'm afraid to find out.'

'Why?'

'What if she's not the same anymore?'

'And if she said she was still the same, would you believe her?'

'The part of me,' he said, 'that still loves her, would believe her in an instant. But the other part of me wouldn't be so sure.'

'But you can never tell, can you?' I grinned at him. 'Maybe if she knew how you felt about her '

'Then what?' he interrupted.

'She would jump up and down for joy. Then she would run to you, wherever you are, stop beating around the bush, and say just one of the few things she never felt brave enough to tell you.' I lowered my voice, because of the deafening roar of my blood pounding in my veins. 'She would look into your eyes and say she loved you.'

That took his breath away. The chains of his swing rattled.

'She couldn't,' he mumbled. 'She wouldn't. She…' he trailed off.

I fixed him with a penetrating gaze. 'She would,' I insisted.

'No.' He shook his head fervently. 'you can't. it can't be. You…after everything…you still care?'

I nodded. Then we lapsed into silence.

'Why can't you just say it?' I asked him simply.

'Because I'm scared?'

'Why?'

'Because I love you, that's why!'

I nearly toppled off my swing. I stared at him for a long time, my heart pounding, my head throbbing with a hundred and one thoughts.

'So,' I said. 'Even after two years, you still care. Why?'

'There's no answer to that.'

We were both silent for a minute. Then he glanced at his watch and jumped to his feet. 'I have to be going,' he said. 'It's getting quite late.'

He knelt down before me, and I saw his face up close for the first time in my life. My heart went into overdrive. He was more than just handsome. He was gorgeous. Quite self-consciously so.

He took my hand. His touch seemed like the breath of life. 'Where do we go from here?' he asked.

I tightened my hold on his hand. 'We wait.'

He seemed to know what I meant. Standing up, he dusted his jeans, made some show of anguish, and then turned around. I watched as he walked away.

I was wrong. June in Dhaka brings long hours of sunshine punctuated with longs hours of rain. It also brings back memories that lurked in the shadows. It awakens feelings, stirs emotions…

And it brings answers. To many questions, both asked and unasked.

By HU

Book review
Hogfather

RISING mercury, endless power-cuts, traffic jams...is it me or is Dhaka fast becoming unbearable? If all wasn't enough to give me a disposition a bear with a toothache could identify with, my flat is currently undergoing renovations, so I have to contend with an army of painters, masons, and carpenters marching in and out of the place at all hours, hammering and pounding away, and creating utter chaos. There was absolutely no way I could concentrate on a deep and profound read, but I wasn't exactly in the mood for something mindless either. So I turned to a favourite option; Terry Pratchett.

Hogfather is the 20th book in the Discworld series, taking off where Soul Music left off. This is one of the Death novels, and I quite find that I'm warming up to his character. Hogswatch is an event, the night before which, the Hogfather travels the Discworld on Hogswatch Eve on a chariot towed by boars, dispensing gifts to children who've been good the year round. Sounds familiar? Yep, he's talking about the Discworld version of Christmas. When the book opens, it's close to Hogswatch Night, and the Guild of Assassins receives a most unusual commission, for which they decide to assign Mr Teatime (pronounced Te-ah Tim-eh, go figure), an Assassin who's enthusiastic enough about his work to unnerve anyone who meets him.

In other parts of the city of Ankh-Morpokh, the familiar flying chariot appears on the rooftop, only its occupants are a little...unexpected. For one thing, the Hogfather is about seven feet tall, and minus the round paunch that keeps slipping southwards, rather on the lean side, and tends to speak in All-Caps. For another, his 'elf' seems to be rather ancient, and not at all elfish. We then move into a nobleman's house, where Susan, the Gothic governess is busy fighting bogeymen with the nursery poker. Being Death's granddaughter enables her to see what other adults don't; meaning she can effectively deal with things like monsters under the bed and anything else the children are afraid of. Into this 'normal' domestic scene come the Death of Rats, riding on the wings of the Raven, and tell her that her grandfather is out playing Hogfather, so she's got to sort the mess out.

Our reluctant heroine sets out on a crazy mission she doesn't understand, and makes a new friend in the Oh God of Hangovers (so-called because "when humans experience him, they clutch their heads and say "oh god"), who follows her to the Unseen University, where several such minor deities are materialising by the minute.

All these separate strands are woven neatly together in the end. Pratchett pokes fun at the underlying hypocrisy behind festivals like Hogswatch, where people talk about the Hogswatch spirit, and yet display something else. He also addresses issues like the importance of belief, and a sense of imagination, which makes one human. It's a story that's absurdly funny, and yet deep enough in its own zany way, so don't forget to give it a try.

By Sabrina F Ahmad
Sabera.jade@gmail.com