In English classes and global work, my deepest thoughts return to Bengali—the rhythm learned from my mother. Prayer, love, anger, and problem-solving arise first in this tongue. Other languages are skills; this one is my mind’s default, my soul’s language, the melody that never leaves.
A broken deathbed promise hardens into daily guilt. We cannot ask the dead for release; we can only shoulder what they left—dreams, duties, unfinished words. This essay turns regret into responsibility: keep what can be kept, build what remains, and remember through action.
At nine, a torn cape ended belief in scripted destiny. Adulthood learns there is no protagonist privilege, only choices and consequences. When fairy tales die, the hero’s journey becomes self-rescue: owning our flaws, carrying our dual roles—villain and savior—and beginning the real story.
We walk past everyday gurus—drivers, vendors, housemaids, guards—each a living department in an invisible university. Experience holds maps, flavors, and human signals no degree can teach. Real learning begins when we trade ego for curiosity, kneel to listen, and let ordinary masters quietly teach us.
If AI grows more empathetic than us—patient, unbiased, creatively moving—what remains human? This piece argues our edge is imperfection: struggle, change, and chosen connection. Let perfect machines mirror us; meaning still comes from earned kindness and the messy work of becoming.
Our “worst” traits often hide rare abilities: restlessness can map new worlds, sensitivity makes art, introversion sees deeply, anxiety plans ahead, perfectionism pushes excellence. The task is not to erase ourselves but to recognize and train these powers—so we stop chasing copies and become originals.
A meditation on social media as a 24/7 museum of curated lies. We become both spectators and exhibits while algorithms curate envy and addiction. Memory is sanitized, life turns into content, and exhaustion follows. The only exit: messy, unfiltered reality beyond the feed.
An essay on whether places hold emotional residue. Old walls as sediment from centuries of feeling; physics as metaphor; hospitals, graveyards, and bedrooms as sites of “emotional archaeology.” If atmosphere is an archive, architecture becomes ethical—what we feel today may linger for those who
Arranged vs love marriage through the lens of expectation. When two strangers begin life together, every quirk is discovery; when lovers wed, the familiar can dull into disappointment. Drawing on hedonic adaptation and the shift from passionate to companionate love, this essay argues that happiness is built—by lowering expectations, aligning values, and expressing daily gratitude
At 3 a.m., our defenses drop and the search bar becomes a chapel. From “why do I feel empty” to “how to keep going,” this essay traces how browser history records our raw humanity—and our shared loneliness.
Curated insights, thoughtfully delivered. No clutter.
