Life story

আমার আর আমার স্ত্রীর জীবন, আমাদের ছেলের প্রতিষ্ঠার পর, যেন এক অন্য রূপ ধারণ করবে। একদিকে গর্বের এক পরিপূর্ণ অনুভূতি, আর অন্যদিকে এক শূন্যতার করুণ ছায়া। আমরা সবসময় এই দিনটার স্বপ্ন দেখেছি—যখন আমাদের ছেলে নিজের পায়ে দাঁড়াবে, নিজের পরিচিতি তৈরি করবে। কিন্তু সেই দিন যতই কাছে আসে, মনে হয়, এই বাড়িটা যেন ধীরে ধীরে শূন্যতায় ডুবে যাচ্ছে। ও তখন আর এই বাড়ির বাসিন্দা থাকবে না। হয়তো ও এক দূর দেশে যাবে, হয়তো ভারতের কোনো দূরপ্রান্তে। বাড়ি ফিরবে বছরে একবার, কিংবা দুই-তিন বছরে। তখন ওর আসাটা যেন অতিথির মতো মনে হবে। সেই উষ্ণতার অভাব নয়, বরং সময় আর দূরত্বের বেড়াজালে সম্পর্কের রূপ বদলে যাবে। যে ফোনকলগুলো ছিল আমাদের প্রতিদিনের সান্ত্বনা, তা ক্রমশ কমে যাবে। ও নিজেকে এমন ব্যস্ত করে ফেলবে যে আমাদের সঙ্গে কথা বলার সময় হয়তো আর পাবে না। আমরা নিজেদের সান্ত্বনা দেব, “এটাই তো আমরা চেয়েছিলাম। ও যেন সফল হয়, নিজের স্বপ্নপূরণ করে।” তবুও, প্রতিদিনের সেই অনুপস্থিতি, ওর স্নেহমাখা কণ্ঠস্বর না শোনার ব্যথা, যেন আমাদের নীরবতা আরও গভীর করে তুলবে। যে বাড়িটা ছিল ওর ছোটবেলার হাসি-আনন্দের সাক্ষী, সেটাই যেন এখন এক নিস্তব্ধ মন্দিরে...

There is at the heart of all things an unlimited radiance. We Hindus call it Brahman, Satchitananda, existence consciousness bliss, limitless awareness. We will begin there that's the beginning of all things and our story begins there. In that limitless radiance there are these seven great sages we believe. These are immortal beings who are ever immersed in that reality that one existence consciousness bliss. They are ever immersed in meditation in Samadhi on that reality. Now, what happened was, from that mass of luminosity light, it condensed into the form of a divine child, a little child and this little child comes to one of those great sages who is in Samadhi in ever eternally in contemplation of the absolute reality existence, consciousness, bliss. This child comes to a sage and gently awakens the sage to an awareness of the child's existence and the child says to that sage look yonder world the world of men is under darkness and suffering. I go there and you to...

Yes, when we listen to Advaita Vedanta, a big question comes up: if we are already Brahman (the absolute reality), then why do we appear as humans, go through hard times, and follow a spiritual path to realize we were Brahman all along? Why do we go through all of this? The answer might surprise you. Swami Vivekananda, a famous teacher, said that this question itself is actually not right. When we ask it, we’re trying to find a reason, or a “cause.” For example, if we see wet grass, we might ask, “Why is the grass wet?” A cause could be rain or a sprinkler. But asking “Why does this whole life cycle happen?” doesn’t work the same way. Advaita Vedanta explains that everything we experience is because of something called Maya. Maya is like a stage on which everything happens. Maya is what creates time, space, and cause-and-effect. But here’s the tricky part: you can’t ask for a “cause of causes” or what came “before time.” These questions don’t make sense because they assume time and...

It feels like life is a never-ending series of puzzles, each one more challenging than the last. Just when I think I've figured things out, or solved one issue, another one appears, often when I least expect it. Sometimes, it feels like I'm just running on a treadmill of problems — one step forward, but always another challenge waiting. It’s exhausting and, at times, overwhelming. Yet, as frustrating as this cycle is, I’m learning that each problem has a lesson hidden within it. Each puzzle pushes me to grow in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It's like life is teaching me resilience, patience, and adaptability, even when I don’t feel ready for these lessons. And perhaps, that's the point: the problems never really go away; they just change shape, giving me an opportunity to become stronger, wiser, and more self-aware. While I'd love for life to be easier, I’m coming to understand that maybe the purpose isn't about a smooth path but about learning to navigate the ro...

Looking at these photos of my tiny self, I’m instantly transported back to a time I don’t remember, but one I feel in every way possible. I was only around a year and a half, with curly hair that had a mind of its own and a plumpness that showed a carefree little life. Dark in complexion and with a bit of baby chubbiness, I looked so content—probably unaware of the vast world around me. My aunt, my father's sister, lovingly called me "Shiplu," a name that still echoes in my family’s laughter and conversations today. It’s amazing how a simple name can hold so much warmth and nostalgia. These photos were captured on a Kodak camera, that precious tool of the past that made capturing memories feel like an art. The reels had to be washed, the images developed, and finally, they’d appear on plain glossy paper, holding moments in time that seemed ordinary then but are priceless now. Somewhere between 1988 and 1989, these photos came to life—innocent moments I never knew would m...

It's hard to imagine now, but back in 2002, smartphones were practically unheard of, at least in our circles. Social media didn’t exist, and entertainment wasn’t as instant or as accessible as it is today. In those days, school life was woven together by friendships, endless gossip, cycles rides, and the occasional, treasured photo on a camera we used to call the “digicam.” One day, I took my prized digital camera to school. It was nothing like today’s cameras, with its grainy, low-resolution images, but it was magical for us. I was in Class 11 at Chittaranjan Colony Hindu Vidyapith, Baguiati, Kolkata. I had no idea at the time that the pictures I took that day would become my only visual memories from my school days, spanning from KG to Class 12. My friends were thrilled about the camera – boys and girls alike crowded around, eager to be part of a rare moment captured on film. Everyone wanted their picture taken, smiling wide, making faces, and goofing around. But of course, we ...