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Monday, July 23, 2012

The story of life

Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there, to serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or to help you figure out who you are or who you want to become. You never know who these people maybe (possibly your roommate, neighbor, coworker, long lost friend, lover, or even a complete stranger),but when you lock eyes with them, you know at that very moment they will affect your life in some profound way .

And sometimes things happen to you that may seem horrible, painful. and unfair at first , but in reflection you find that without overcoming those obstacles you would have never realized your potential, strength, willpower, or heart..

Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of good luck. Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul. Without these small tests whatever they may be, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight, flat road to nowhere. It would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless. The people you meet who affect your life, and the success and downfalls you experience, help to create who you are and who you become.

Even the bad experiences can be learned from. In fact, they are probably the most poignant and important ones. If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious when you open your heart. If someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, not only because they love you, but because in a way, they are teaching you to love and how to open your heart and eyes to things.

Make every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from those moments everything that you possibly can for you may never be able to experience it again. Talk to people that you have never talked to before, and actually listen. Let yourself fall in love, break free, and set your sights high. Hold your head up because you have every right to. Tell yourself you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don’t believe in yourself, it will be hard for others to believe in you. You can make of your life anything you wish. Create your own life and then go out and live it with absolutely no regrets.

Most importantly, if you LOVE someone, tell him or her ,for you never know what tomorrow may have in store. And learn a lesson in life each day that you live.

That’s the story of life.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

My Very First Love

Yes this may be surprising, I was only 13 years old that time. But, don't know how or why it happened to me so early. I fell deeply in love with a guy, who I used to think was annoying 2 months ago.

It was 1997, in Chittagong, Bang- ladesh, me and my family have just moved to a new apartment in a new area. So, after few weeks have passed, I started going back to school, since it was during Ramadan we moved. Well, I made some new friends in the neighborhood. This girl who was always hanging out with, her name was Ivy.

One day when I was going to school, I bumped into Ivy on the way out of my building, and she was standing next to this guy, he lived in the building right beside mine. He said “Hi” to me, and we just asked each other “how are you” and blah blah, then I had to leave. But I noticed that guy was looking at me. It was a different kind of look, look with love in his eyes. Few days later, I noticed whenever I go to school and come back from school, he is standing in his balcony, and smiling at me. If he is not around, and one of his friends see me, they start to yell out his name. Oh yeah, by the way, his name was Mamun.

So, I was very annoyed by those things. And I even told Ivy to tell Mamun to stop these foolishness. After my exams were over, I had a break. So I used to go to the roof and read books to spend my time. Mamun used to come to their roof also and both roofs where so close to each other that you can just jump from one to another.

Once I was reading a book, and I noticed Mamun come to their roof and he looked at me, and smiled. OH MY GOD! I don't know what happened to me. That sweet smile just took me away. I smiled back at him, for the first time. I could never forget that moment. We used to smile at each other whenever we saw each other, but never had a chat. I was sure that he liked me a lot, because, anytime he would see me on the roof from his balcony, he came up to the roof right away. I fell in love with him very deeply. I was surprised that I did. The feelings I had was so beautiful and made me so happy.

Mamun did come to my roof one day to talk to me but I wanted him to go away. I didn't want any one to see us talking. As you know, in Bangladesh rumors go around so fast. When we talked, I saw deep love in his eyes. I always smiled at him; I didn't talk to him much. Still, life was going on so wonderfully. Mamun never told me he loved me. I thought that was because, I was 5/6 years younger than him.

Very soon, I found out that me and my family are leaving Bang- ladesh and coming to Canada. I was devas- tated. I cried all night but there was nothing to do. When Mamun found out, he asked me on the roof, if it was true. When I said yes, he asked how long will I be in Canada. The answer was maybe forever, we were going to settle in Canada. He looked depressed, all he said was “Oh”, then I told him out flight date.

The next month, it was Ramadan again. Mamun came to say good bye to me on the roof, he was leaving to spend his Eid with his family. That day, I was so sad, I felt like I lost something very important in my life. We said goodbye to each other, he said he thinks I am such a sweet girl, he hopes I have a great life in Canada. Oh my god, I couldn't hold myself, I think my eyes became watery. I didn't want him to see that I was crying. I said “you too” and tried to smile and left the roof right away.

That was the last day I ever saw my first love. Now 4 years later, here I am in CANADA. I have guy in my life now, whom I am deeply love with after Mamun. I never lose him.

I am over Mamun now. Everytime I remember those days, looking at each other on the roof, talking, I feel really down. I wonder where he is now, if we will even meet again I can never forget my first love.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Sunrise on the eastern coast

Sunrise on the eastern coast is a special event. I stood at Dolphin’s Nose, a spur jutting out into the Bay of Bengal, to behold the breaking of the sun’s upper limb over the horizon of the sea. As the eastern sky started unfolding like the crimson petals of a gigantic flower, I was overcome by a wave of romantic feelings and nostalgia—vivid memories not diminished by the fact that almost ten years had passed.

I was a young bachelor then, and Visakhapatnam did not have much to offer. Every Sunday morning, I used to rise before dawn and head for Dolphin’s Nose, to enjoy the dazzling spectacle of the sun majestically rising out of the sea. The fresh, salty sea breeze was a panacea for all the effects of hangovers caused by Saturday night excesses.

After viewing the metamorphosis at sunrise, I would walk downhill along the steep mountain-path, towards the rocky beach, for a brief swim. Each time, I noticed a flurry of activity in a distant compound with a single decrepit building. I used to ignore it, but curiously, one day I decided to take a closer look. It was a fish market. Most customers were housewives from the nearby residential complexes. They were at their “Sunday-worst”—sans make-up, slovenly dressed, faces unwashed, and unkempt hair—in stark contrast with their carefully made-up appearances at the club the previous evening.

I had began to walk away, quite dejected, when I saw her for the first time. I stopped, dead in my tracks. She was a real beauty—tall, fair and freshly bathed, her long lustrous hair dancing on her shoulders. She had large, expressive brown eye and her sharp features were accentuated by the rays of the morning Sun. I can’t begin to describe the sensation she evoked in me; it was the first time in my life that I felt my heart ache with such intense yearning. I knew this was love. Yet, in my heart, I knew that I stood no chance—she had a man gal sutra around her neck. She was married—maybe happily, too. Nevertheless I drew closer to her and made the pretence of buying some fish. Smiling guardedly at me, she selected a couple of pamphlets and held them out to me. I managed to briefly touch her soft hands—the feeling was electric and a shiver of thrill passed through me. She communicated an unspoken “good-bye” with her teasing, dancing eyes and briskly walked away. Too dazed to follow her, I returned to my room and had fried pamphlet for breakfast. Needless to say, they tasted delicious.

Soon, I was following this routine every Sunday morning with almost religious zeal. She never missed her rendezvous with me—same place, same day, at precisely the same time, Seven o’clock. Still, not a word was exchanged between us. I was too shy and she probably wanted to keep it this way—a beautiful ethereal relationship—a love so delicate that one wrong move might ruin everything. Meanwhile, I had developed a taste for fried pamphlet—quite surprisingly, considering that I had never eaten fish before.

As the years went by, I left Visakhapatnam and travelled around the world, met many beautiful girls at the various exotic places I visited. But I never forgot her! A man’s first love would always have an enduring place in his heart.

And now, I was back in Visakhapatnam, almost ten years later. As I walked down the slope towards the beach, in my mind’s eyes I could still vividly envision the playfully sublime look on her face—her gentle smile and communicative eyes—even if ten years had passed. I could not contain the mounting excitement and anticipation in me; I was desperately yearning to see her again. It was a forlorn hope but I felt flushed with optimism. Reaching the beach, I noticed that the sun was well clear of the horizon. I glanced at my watch—almost seven o’clock. I hastened my step, almost breaking in to a run, and reached the fish market where I stood at the exact same spot, where we used to have our rendezvous at sunrise.

Trembling with anticipation verging on anxiety, I looked around with searching eyes. Nothing had changed. The scene was exactly the same as I had left it ten years ago. There was only one thing missing—she wasn’t there! I had drawn out the short straw! I felt crestfallen. My mind went blank and I stood motionless overcome with gloom, when suddenly, I felt that familiar electrifying touch, the same shiver and the familiar thrill. It jolted me back to reality, as quick as lighting. As she softly put two prom fret fish in my hand I was feeling in the seventh Heaven.

Looking at her, I was not disappointed. Her beauty had enhanced with age. Yet, something had changed, indeed. Yes! It was her eyes. Her large brown eyes did not dance so teasingly anymore. There was a trace of sadness a sense of tender poignancy in her liquid brown eye as she bid me her unspoken “good-bye”. Dumbstruck by the abruptness of the event and the enormity of the moment, I stood frozen like a statue, unable to react or say anything. It was only when she was leaving that I noticed that there was no man gal sutra around her slender neck anymore.

White cocktail gown with floral

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silhouette:ball
hemline/train:short
neckline:one shoulder
fabric :tencel chiffon, Composite Filament with laser Silver, viscose lining
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embellishment:crystal floral pin,flowers
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Floral cocktail dresses with asymmetrical hemline

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Thursday, July 19, 2012

The beginning of drama

There are many theories about the beginning of drama in ancient

Greece

. The one most widely accepted today is based on the assumption that drama evolved from ritual. The argument for this view goes as follows. In the beginning, human beings viewed the natural forces of the world - even the seasonal changes - as unpredictable, and they sought through various means to control these unknown and feared powers. Those measures which appeared to bring the desired results were then retained and repeated until they hardened into fixed rituals. Eventually stories arose which explained or veiled the mysteries of the rites. As time passed some rituals were abandoned, but the stories, later called myths, persisted and provided material for art and drama.

Those who believe that drama evolved out of ritual also argue that those rites contained the seed of theater because music, dance, masks, and costumes were almost always used. Furthermore, a suitable site had to be provided for performances and when the entire community did not participate, a clear division was usually made between the "acting area" and the "auditorium." In addition, there were performers, and, since considerable importance was attached to avoiding mistakes in the enactment of rites, religious leaders usually assumed that task. Wearing masks and costumes, they often impersonated other people, animals, or supernatural beings, and mimed the desired effect -- success in hunt or battle, the coming rain, the revival of the Sun -- as an actor might. Eventually such dramatic representations were separated from religious activities.

Another theory traces the theater's origin from the human interest in storytelling. According to this view tales (about the hunt, war, or other feats) are gradually elaborated, at first through the use of impersonation, action, and dialogue by a narrator and then through the assumption of each of the roles by a different person. A closely related theory traces theater to those dances that are primarily rhythmical and gymnastic or that are imitations of animal movements and sounds.