heroes and villains
Heroes and Villains throughout history that have defined their industries and workflow as we know it today. Those we look up to, and those we learn mistakes from.
The Gate We All Walk Through
I didn’t realize I’d disappeared until I saw my reflection and didn’t recognize myself. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow—a word silenced here, an opinion softened there, a laugh forced to match the room. I traded pieces of myself for acceptance, like coins dropped into a vending machine that never gave back what I paid for.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Keeper of Secrets
I didn’t go in for a book. I went in to escape the rain. It was a gray Tuesday in March, the kind of day that presses down on your chest like a wet blanket. I’d just received news I wasn’t ready for—a job lost, a relationship frayed, the quiet unraveling of plans I’d spent years building. I walked without direction, shoulders hunched, until I saw it: a narrow storefront with a flickering “Open” sign and a window full of leaning paperbacks.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Last Game of the Season
I didn’t go for the win. I went because it was the last game. The gym was packed—folding chairs lined the walls, parents stood in the back, and the buzz of nervous energy hung thick in the air. Two rival high schools, decades of history, one championship on the line. But I wasn’t there for the trophy. I was there for my nephew, who’d spent all season riding the bench.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Man Who Fixed the Clock
I didn’t notice the clock was broken until it stopped. It sat on the corner shelf of my grandparents’ living room for as long as I could remember—brass, ornate, with Roman numerals and a soft, steady tick that marked the rhythm of every visit. My grandfather wound it every Sunday without fail, even in his nineties, even when his hands shook.
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
The Boy Who Carried the Ball Home
I didn’t go to the game for the score. I went because my nephew asked me to. He’s twelve, wears his hair in a messy bun, and talks about basketball like it’s a secret language only he and the ball understand. “It’s not about winning,” he’d said, eyes bright. “It’s about who shows up when it matters.”
By KAMRAN AHMAD4 days ago in Journal
Did Eleven Die in Stranger Things Season 5?
Stranger Things Season 5, the final chapter of Netflix’s iconic sci-fi series, concluded its story with a dramatic, emotionally charged finale that left fans debating one major question: Did Eleven die? The answer isn’t a simple “yes” or “no.” The show’s ending is intentionally ambiguous, and viewers are left to interpret Eleven’s fate for themselves
By Lightbringer 4 days ago in Journal
LinkedIn and Bangladesh’s Digital Workforce Transformation: Youth, Startups, and Future Skills
By Tuhin Sarwar | Dhaka। 02। December । 2025 । From her modest home in Sylhet, 24-year-old Rafia Hussain flips open a second-hand laptop, logs into the LinkedIn app and reviews an inbox of messages from clients in London, Singapore and Dubai. She adjusts a brand mock-up for a global startup, schedules a call with a US design director and uploads a revised style guide all before breakfast is done.
By Tuhin sarwar9 days ago in Journal
Why We Watch the Fall
I’ve never worn gloves. But I’ve stood in my own ring. It was a rainy Tuesday in March. I sat across from a hiring panel, my résumé trembling in my hand, reciting answers I’d rehearsed for weeks. I’d been unemployed for eight months. My savings were gone. That job wasn’t just a paycheck—it was my lifeline. When they said, “We’ll be in touch,” I knew. The silence that followed wasn’t neutral. It was final.
By KAMRAN AHMAD9 days ago in Journal
The Boy Who Didn’t Look Away
I was seventeen the first time I saw someone truly lose—and not just lose, but lose in front of everyone. It was a school assembly. A poetry contest. My friend Mateo had spent weeks writing a piece about his mother’s hands—how they cracked from cleaning other people’s houses, how they still braided his little sister’s hair every morning before dawn. He stood at the mic, voice trembling at first, then rising like a song. For three minutes, the gym was silent. Then he finished. And no one clapped.
By KAMRAN AHMAD9 days ago in Journal
