"So Ma'am! When are you Planning to publish the next season of 'সেই তুমি' (that's you)"
A reporter asked a lady, who was smiled and sipped on her coffee nodding her head.
"Soon!",
She said in a calm tone. As soon as she spoke, the camera focused on her from the reporter's face. Her eyes were almond-shaped eyes that was conveying deep emotion. Eyes were adorned with kohl, which was enhancing their natural allure. The natural curvature of her lips, combined with a soft, smooth texture, was creating an appealing expression to her captivating allure. Her hair, like the night woven into strands, cascades down her shoulders with the elegance of a silken waterfall. Each lock, dark as the ink of ancient manuscripts, carries the mystery and depth of a thousand untold stories.
Her complexion, a canvas of nature’s finest hues, carries the warmth of the earth and the glow of the setting sun. It reflects the rich and varied palette of Bengal's landscapes—from the golden sands of the Ganges delta to the deep, fertile browns of the paddy fields. Her skin, kissed by the gentle sun, radiates a timeless beauty that poets and artists strive to capture.
"Ma'am What is the secret that you glow and look beautiful so much even with minimal makeup?"
A Guy reporter asked, making her chuckle.
"Kicchu na! Ami kokhono amar Itibachokota ke dubte di na!
(I never let my positivity sink!)",
She said with a sternness in her voice yet a beautiful smile on her face. Her voice, a melodious river, flows with the cadence of the Ganges, carrying with it the essence of ancient tales and whispered secrets. It possesses the soothing quality of a lullaby sung under a starlit sky, wrapping listeners in a gentle embrace of warmth and comfort. Each word she speaks is like a delicate note in a Rabindra Sangeet, resonating with the poetic beauty of Tagore’s verses.
Soon the Interviews went off. She went to her car, Sitting back. She was closing her eyes, remembering how within a couple of years her life turned upside down. Thumping her head back on the headrest of the car's seat, she looked outside from the window. A lone tear escaped her eye.
It was raining that day. The rain fell with a gentle insistence, each drop a tear from the heavens, mingling with the earth in a melancholy symphony of her. It is as if the sky, burdened with sorrow, can no longer hold back its grief, releasing its emotions in a torrential downpour. The rhythmic pattern of rain against windows and rooftops echoes the beating of a lonely heart, each droplet a silent lament.
In the soft, gray light of a rainy day, the world seems to blur, colors muted and edges softened, reflecting the inner turmoil of her sorrowful soul. The landscape, shrouded in mist, becomes a mirror of introspection, a canvas where sadness paints its own desolate beauty. The air, heavy with the scent of wet earth, carries a palpable sense of longing and loss, as if the very atmosphere is drenched in despair.
"Ma'am! We are here!",
The driver said to a lost Sania. She snapped back to earth, nodding her head she climbed down and proceeded towards her flat.
*
It was Evening, when Sania was cooking her dinner. Suddenly her phone rang, rubbing her hands, an immediate smile crept on her face."Kemon acchen Madam?
(How are you madam?)"
She smiled hearing the voice, it was her bestfriend. Her childhood Bestfriend who was there in her every tempests and sunshines of life.
"Valo! Tame Kem cho Sahil Bhai?
(Fine! How are you Sahil Bhai?)",
He chuckled hearing the typical Bengali girl speaking Gujarati. He has always adored her like anything. He respects her seeing her how she tackled every hurdles of her life with a smile on her face,
"Acchaa! Sunn! Agle 24th August ko Shaadi hain meri! Aur you have to come from 19th August to my house..Tu rahegi idhar mere ghar pe!
(Accha! Listen! I am getting married on 24th August! Aur you have to come from 19th August to my house..You will stay here!)".
She smiled, nodding. Her Bestfriend's wedding which she has been dreamt of since childhood.
"Aur sunn Bachke! Haan! Mummy mere lagwa Rahi hain! Next planning mein tum ho! She has found out 24 top notch Bengali Boys for you to select! And Pandit ji se baat bhi chal rahi hain! Waise tu ne kab mummy ko haan bol dia shaadi ke liye?
And listen! Be aware! Mom has already literally screwed me! You are the next as per her plannings! She has found out 24 top notch Bengali Boys for you to select! And the conversation with Pandit ji is also going on! By the way when did you agree for marriage ?",
Hearing him, she widened her eyes. She gulped the lump in her throat and said him making him face palming himself,
"Arrey Maine toh aise hi bol diya tha! Aunty maa piche hi padh gayi thi! Ab kya karti bol? Tu toh kutte Baat hi mat kar, Tu ne kyu nahi taala jab woh select kar rahi thi! Akal waghar ni!
Arrey I have said casually only! Aunty ma was literally behind me! You tell me, What would I have done? You don't even speak a word, why didn't you stopped the matter right there! Dumbass!"
She said frowning. Sahil's mother and his family has always treated her like one of their own child. His family was the only one who stood by her when the world was against him .
*
"Sidhanthh! Sidhaannth!",
A man in his 60s called his son. Just then, the entire hall room echoed with the tic-tac sounds of shoes descending down the staircase.
There came down a man,
His face was depicted with a lyrical blend of strength and sensitivity, embodying both the resilience of a river's current and the gentleness of a moonlit night. His visage, sculpted by time and experience, holds a quiet dignity that resonates with the cultural and intellectual heritage of Bengal. Beneath this expanse, his eyes, described as "joler moton ghor" (deep as water), hold a universe of emotions, reflecting the vastness of the human experience—from unspoken sorrows to the twinkle of unrestrained joy.
His lips, akin to the "chholona golap" (seductive rose), are poised to whisper words of profound poetry or break into a smile that lights up his entire being, revealing a heart rich with compassion. The strong jawline of his, reminiscent of the "shimanta" (horizon) that holds the promise of a new dawn, frames his face with an air of determination and resolve. His cheeks, touched by the "krishnachura" (flame tree) hues of life’s varied experiences, convey a vitality that is both robust and tender.
The overall visage of His, was as painted by the words of literary maestros, is a symphony of aesthetic beauty and intellectual depth. It was a face that tells a thousand stories, each wrinkle a line of poetry, each glance a chapter of silent eloquence.
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TADAAAA SO YEAH IT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY ANOTHER BOOK ...HOPE U GUYS WILL LIKE IT AND IF U GUYS LOVE IT THEN PLS DO VOTE AND COMMENT ....LOVE LOVE❤️❤️
YOU ARE READING
HUMDARD- A Journey From Chaos To Calm
Romance-: SEASON TWO:- **ANOTHER SIDNAAZ FANFIC** IS IT ALWAYS EASY TO FORGET YOUR FIRST LOVE AND TO MOVE ON? * What is love anyway? Love is just a four letter Glamourized Word for wilful Pain, which eventually ennoble our minds. They says Love Comes wit...