Sajid Ahmed
Stories (4)
Filter by community
The Last Bell
The final bell of junior year resonated through the bustling corridor, a sound that typically heralded liberation, yet today, it felt akin to a door closing. I observed as Sarah vanished into the crowd of students, her vibrant pink backpack bobbing like a buoy amidst a sea of faces. Throughout the year, we had been in a silent orbit around each other, exchanging glances in Ms. Peterson's English class, sharing fleeting smiles across the busy cafeteria, and enjoying the comfortable silence during our study sessions in the library. We never uttered the words 'I love you,' but the sentiment lingered, didn't it? In the way her stormy-sky-blue eyes consistently sought mine, even in a room filled with chattering peers. In the way she would chuckle at my silly jokes, her laughter reminiscent of wind chimes swaying in a gentle breeze. In the way my heart would perform a clumsy tap dance whenever she was near. Today marked a departure from the norm. It was the final day before summer break, the last day we would share the same school, the last day of our current selves, as Sarah was relocating. Her father had accepted a new position in another state, a place with a different sky, distinct trees, and unfamiliar faces. I had anticipated this moment, having known for weeks, yet awareness did little to alleviate the pain. We had discussed it, of course, in hushed tones beneath the bleachers after our last English exam, the setting sun casting long shadows across the vacant field. 'It's not forever,' she had murmured, her voice barely audible as she traced patterns in the grass with a fallen leaf. 'It feels like it,' I had responded, the words heavy in my throat. We had vowed to maintain contact, to text, to call, perhaps even to visit. However, we both understood that promises made within the delicate confines of high school often crumbled against the harsh realities of life. Circumstances evolved. People transformed. Distance stretched like an unyielding rubber band until it ultimately snapped. Now, as I stood in the hallway, watching her fade from view, that reality struck me like a blow to the stomach. I experienced a surge of something akin to despair, a hollow ache in my chest that threatened to engulf me entirely.
By Sajid Ahmed9 months ago in Writers
A Cup of Tea
On a brisk January morning, I stepped out onto the small balcony of my aged apartment. The sun appeared as a gentle blur behind the mist, timidly emerging from the winter's embrace. I tightened my shawl around me and paused for a moment, allowing the tranquility to envelop me. The street below was still in slumber — a newspaper boy on a bicycle passed by, yawning louder than the sound of his bell, while an elderly dog sprawled on the sidewalk as if it owned the world. Inside, the kettle began to whistle. I turned back, welcomed by the warmth of the kitchen like an old companion. My hands instinctively reached for the tea tin, the same faded red one my mother used to possess. I am unsure why I have preserved it all these years — rusted at the edges and faintly scented with cardamom and nostalgia. I carefully measured the tea leaves, added a slice of ginger, and waited as the fragrance filled the room. There is something uniquely soothing about brewing tea. It is a simple ritual, yet it encompasses entire realms within it. The clinking of the spoon, the gradual swirl of milk, the gentle puff of steam rising — all resonate like notes in a cherished melody. As I poured the tea into my chipped blue mug, my mind drifted to the past. It is remarkable how a cup of tea can evoke so many memories — not merely of individuals, but of silences, smiles, and rainy afternoons. I recall my grandfather... He would sit on the balcony each morning with a cup of robust Darjeeling tea. He rarely spoke during those moments. Instead, he observed the world passing by — the rickshaw pullers, the schoolchildren, the morning newspaper arriving late as usual. I would sit at his feet, cradling my own small cup filled mostly with milk and a hint of tea, pretending to be an adult. He imparted to me that tea should never be hurried. It was not merely a beverage — it was a pause. A quiet defiance against the day's chaos. I remember my college days... When tea signified five rupees, two steel cups, and an hour filled with laughter. The small roadside stall...
By Sajid Ahmed9 months ago in Writers
Bilashi Probondho
In Bengali literature, the essay represents a vital form that has undergone various stylistic, tonal, and purposeful transformations. Among the diverse essay types, the 'Bilashi Probondho' stands out as one of the most enchanting and emotionally profound styles. While the term may be unfamiliar to those outside Bengali literary circles, its essence and intent resonate on a universal level. The term 'Bilashi' translates to 'pleasure-seeking' or 'luxury-loving,' and 'Probondho' means 'essay,' thus a Bilashi Probondho can be interpreted as a 'pleasure essay' or 'aesthetic essay'. This essay form does not seek to educate or argue; instead, it aims to entertain, evoke emotions, and provide aesthetic enjoyment to the reader. It is characterized by its deeply personal, emotional, and often philosophical nature, where logic takes a backseat to the beauty of language and thought. The concept of Bilashi Probondho gained traction in Bengali literature during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, particularly influenced by writers such as Pramatha Chowdhury, Rabindranath Tagore, and Sukumar Ray. At that time, the modern Bengali essay was still evolving, necessitating a writing form that could articulate personal feelings, philosophical ideas, and aesthetic reflections without adhering to rigid structures or argumentative logic. Pramatha Chowdhury is frequently credited with popularizing the Bilashi essay style through his contributions to 'Sabujpatra', a literary magazine that promoted innovative and free-thinking writing. Tagore's essays also often ventured into this reflective and lyrical realm, providing insights into the soul rather than the intellect. A Bilashi Probondho is defined as a literary, non-academic essay crafted to evoke beauty, emotion, and contemplation. Rather than focusing on facts, data, or structured arguments, it embraces a fluid style rich in poetic imagery, philosophical musings, and personal narratives. It is not intended to persuade.
By Sajid Ahmed9 months ago in Writers
Oporichita
Oporichita Probondo Anupam begins by illustrating his life, which is significantly shaped by his maternal uncle. After the passing of his father, his uncle takes on a commanding role, overseeing all family matters and, consequently, Anupam's existence. Anupam depicts himself as someone who has consistently acquiesced to his uncle's choices, lacking the autonomy to forge his own path. He humorously characterizes himself as well-educated and attractive, yet devoid of any genuine influence over his life, especially regarding marriage. The marriage proposal for Anupam is presented by his friend Harish, who recommends a suitable match. However, the process is anything but romantic. Anupam's uncle assumes control, primarily focused on the financial standing and social status of the bride's family. The attributes of the girl appear secondary to the dowry and the family's capacity to provide it unconditionally. The uncle's detailed and somewhat crude assessments concerning the dowry underscore the societal fixation on material wealth in matrimonial arrangements. The selected bride is Kalyani, a fifteen-year-old girl from a family that was once affluent but has since experienced a decline. Her father, Shambhunath Babu, is depicted as a man of dignity who consents to the match despite the evident power imbalance. Anupam himself is powerless in this situation and resigns to the arranged marriage. He is even denied the chance to meet his bride prior to the wedding, with his cousin Binodada serving as his representative for the pre-wedding blessings. Binodada's curt endorsement, 'Not bad, real gold,' further underscores the superficial and transactional essence of the arrangement. The story takes a dramatic turn on the wedding day. As Anupam and his party arrive in Kolkata for the ceremony, his uncle, ever suspicious and controlling, insists on inspecting the bride's jewelry to ensure its quality aligns with the agreed terms. This act of overt distrust and disrespect deeply offends Shambhunath Babu. In a moment of quiet defiance and self-respect, he calls off the wedding.
By Sajid Ahmed9 months ago in Writers
