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Showing posts from May, 2025

“Kolkata Ki Khushboo”

  “Kolkata Ki Khushboo” Subhojit Basu ek Bengali writer tha, jiska dil aur dimaag dono stories se bharahua tha. Woh North Kolkata ke ek purane mansion mein rehta tha, jahan har deewar par kahaniyan chipki thi—kabhi kisi purane love letter ke form mein, kabhi kisi chhoti diary ke panne jaise. Subhojit ka routine simple tha. Subah ek mishti doi aur telebhaja ke saath din ki shuruaat karta, phir apne study room mein baith jaata—typewriter ke saamne. Laptop tha, par use woh “emotional connection” nahi hota tha. Typewriter ki aawaz mein usse apne baba ki yaad aati thi, jo khud ek poet the. Ek din, jab Subhojit College Street ke ek purane bookshop mein second-hand novels dhoond raha tha, uski nazar ek diary pe padi. Diary purani thi, cover faded, aur andar Bengali mein kisi unknown ladki ki handwriting. Us diary mein ek incomplete kahani thi—ek ladki jo kisi writer ko chhupke follow karti hai, uske kahaniyon mein jeeti hai, par kabhi saamne nahi aati. Subhojit curious ho gaya. "Yeh ladk...

"Goa Wala Plan"

  "Goa Wala Plan" ( ek dosti, ek pagalpan aur ek yaadgar safar ki kahani ) Sab kuch ek garam dopahar ke chai session se shuru hua tha. Raghav ne chhoti si chai ki tapri par sabko bulaaya aur aankhon mein chamak ke saath bola, "Bhai log, Goa chalte hain. Life mein kuch adventure hona chahiye." Sab pehle toh hans pade. Har baar ki tarah kisi ne bola, "Haan haan, plan toh har mahine banta hai, hota kab hai?" Lekin iss baar Sunny ne bola, "Is baar serious hoon. Ho jayega bhai." Tanya, jo hamesha sabse zyada doubtful hoti thi, surprisingly maan gayi. Meenu ne turant apna notepad nikaala aur bola, "Okay, toh budget, train ya flight, hotel, khana… sabka plan main banati hoon." Jatin ne kuch nahi bola, bas smile kiya — woh aise hi tha, silent but always ready. Next do hafte planning mein nikal gaye. WhatsApp group ban gaya — naam tha "Goa Ya Kabhi Nahi". Har raat kisi na kisi ka message aata, kabhi hotel ke links, kabhi Goa ke reels,...

"Whatsapp Group ka Shraap"

"Whatsapp Group ka Shraap"   ( The Curse of the Whatsapp Group ) Ek din Raju , ek average sa college student, ne ek purana phone kharida OLX se. Sasta mila, toh Raju khush. Lekin phone ke andar ek hi cheez ajeeb thi — ek WhatsApp group jiska naam tha: "Sirf Raat Ko Padho đŸ“ĩđŸ‘ģ" Raju ne socha, “Kya hi hoga? Sab toh bakwaas hote hain aise group.” Usne group open kiya, aur dekha ki sab messages raat 3:00 baje bheje jaate the. Har message ke baad likha hota tha: “Seen mat karna, warna dekh lena...” Raju ne mazaak samajh kar message “seen” kar liya. Agli subah, uske toothpaste se ketchup nikal raha tha. Dusre din uska fan ulta ghoom raha tha — bina current ke! Teesre din uske fridge mein doodh ke jagah gobi ke paranthe mile. 😨 Raju pareshan ho gaya. Tab uske room ke mirror pe likha aaya: “Bhaag le, warna tere memes bhi haunted ho jaayenge!” Ab Raju ne group mein message bheja: "Sorry bhaiyo, leave kaise karun?" Ek bot reply aaya: "Sirf ek rasta...

āĻ–োঁāϜেāϰ āϰāĻšāϏ্āϝ

                                       āĻ–োঁāϜেāϰ āϰāĻšāϏ্āϝ   āϰাāϤ āĻ—āĻ­ীāϰ। āĻ•āϞāĻ•াāϤাāϰ āφāĻ•াāĻļে āĻŦৃāώ্āϟি āύাāĻŽাāϰ āφāĻ—েāχ āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ…āĻĻ্āĻ­ুāϤ āύিāϏ্āϤāĻŦ্āϧāϤা āύেāĻŽে āĻāϏেāĻ›ে। āĻļāĻšāϰেāϰ āĻĒ্āϰাāϚীāύ āĻāĻ• āĻ…āύ্āϧāĻ•াāϰ āĻ—āϞিāϤে āĻĻাঁāĻĄ়িāϝ়ে āĻĄিāϟেāĻ•āϟিāĻ­ āĻ…āϰ্āĻŖāĻŦ āϚ্āϝাāϟাāϰ্āϜি āϏিāĻ—াāϰেāϟে āϟাāύ āĻĻিāϤে āĻĻিāϤে āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻŽৃāϤ্āϝু āύিāϝ়ে āĻ­াāĻŦāĻ›ে। āĻ–ুāύ āύাāĻ•ি āφāϤ্āĻŽāĻšāϤ্āϝা—āĻāχ āĻĒ্āϰāĻļ্āύāϟাāχ āĻāĻ–āύ āϏāĻŦāϚেāϝ়ে āĻŦāĻĄ় āϰāĻšāϏ্āϝ। āĻ…āĻŽিāϤাāĻ­ āϰাāϝ়, āĻāĻ• āĻŦিāĻ–্āϝাāϤ āϚিāϤ্āϰāĻļিāϞ্āĻĒী, āĻ–ুāύ āĻšāϝ়েāĻ›েāύ āύিāϜেāϰ āϏ্āϟুāĻĄিāĻ“āϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝে। āĻĻāϰāϜা āĻ­েāϤāϰ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻŦāύ্āϧ, āϜাāύāϞাāĻ—ুāϞো āϞāĻ•, āĻŦাāĻšিāϰেāϰ āĻĻিāĻ• āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻ•োāύো āϜোāϰ āĻ•āϰে āĻĸোāĻ•াāϰ āϚিāĻš্āύ āύেāχ। āĻ…āĻĨāϚ, āϤিāύি āϚেāϝ়াāϰে āĻŦāϏে, āĻŦুāĻ•েāϰ āĻŽাāĻে āĻ›ুāϰি āĻ—েঁāĻĨে āĻŽাāϰা āĻĒāĻĄ়ে āφāĻ›েāύ। āĻŽুāĻ–ে āϝেāύ āĻāĻ•āϟা āĻ…āĻĒেāĻ•্āώাāϰ āĻ›াāĻĒ, āϚোāĻ– āĻĻুāϟো āĻ–োāϞা। āϝেāύ āĻ•াāωāĻ•ে āϚেāύা āĻ•াāϰো āϜāύ্āϝ āĻ…āĻĒেāĻ•্āώা āĻ•āϰāĻ›িāϞেāύ। āĻ–ুāύেāϰ āϏāύ্āϧ্āϝাāϝ় āϏ্āϟুāĻĄিāĻ“āϤে āĻ›িāϞেāύ āĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āĻ•āϝ়েāĻ•āϜāύ—āϏ্āϤ্āϰী āύāύ্āĻĻিāϤা, āĻ›াāϤ্āϰ āĻŦিāĻĒ্āϞāĻŦ, āĻŦāύ্āϧু āϤাāĻšāĻŽিāĻĻ, āφāϰ্āϟ āĻ•্āϰিāϟিāĻ• āϰেāĻļāĻŽী, āĻĒাāϰ্āϟāύাāϰ āĻĻেāĻŦāϜ্āϝোāϤি āφāϰ āĻāĻ•āĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āĻĒāϰিāϚাāϰিāĻ•া āϰিāϝ়া। āĻĒ্āϰāϤ্āϝেāĻ•েāχ āύিāϜেāĻ•ে āύিāϰ্āĻĻোāώ āĻŦāϞāĻ›ে, āĻĒ্āϰāϤ্āϝেāĻ•েāχ āϏেāχ āĻŽুāĻšূāϰ্āϤে ‘āĻ…āύ্āϝ āĻ•োāĻĨাāĻ“’ āĻ›িāϞ। āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻ…āϰ্āĻŖāĻŦ āϜাāύে, āĻ–ুāύি āϤাāĻĻেāϰ āĻŽāϧ্āϝেāχ āφāĻ›ে। āϘāϟāύাāϰ āϤāĻĻāύ্āϤ āĻļুāϰু āĻšāϤেāχ āĻ•...

āϏāĻŽā§Ÿেāϰ āϝাāϤ্āϰী āĻāĻŦং āĻ­ৌāϤিāĻ• āϰাāϤ

   āϏāĻŽā§Ÿেāϰ āϝাāϤ্āϰী āĻāĻŦং āĻ­ৌāϤিāĻ• āϰাāϤ āĻāĻ•āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ, ⧍⧍⧧ā§Ļ āϏাāϞেāϰ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦী āĻ›িāϞ āĻĒ্āϰāϝুāĻ•্āϤিāϰ āϚāϰāĻŽ āĻļিāĻ–āϰে। āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϰ āĻāĻ• āĻ•োāĻŖ āĻĨেāĻ•ে āφāϰেāĻ• āĻ•োāĻŖে āϝাāϤা⧟াāϤ āĻ•āϰāϤ āϞেāϜাāϰ āϏ্āĻĒিāĻĄে, āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϏāĻŽā§Ÿেāϰ āĻ­্āϰāĻŽāĻŖ—āϤা āĻ›িāϞ āĻāĻ• āĻ…āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦ āĻ•āϞ্āĻĒāύা। āϤāĻŦে, āĻĄ. āĻĻেāĻŦাংāĻļু āϰা⧟, āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻ…āĻ­িāϜ্āĻžাāύী āĻŦিāϜ্āĻžাāύী, āϏেāχ āĻ…āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦāĻ•ে āϏāĻŽ্āĻ­āĻŦ āĻ•āϰāϞেāύ। āĻŦāĻšু āĻŦāĻ›āϰেāϰ āĻ—āĻŦেāώāĻŖা āĻ“ āĻĒāϰীāĻ•্āώা-āύিāϰীāĻ•্āώাāϰ āĻĒāϰ āϤিāύি āϤৈāϰি āĻ•āϰāϞেāύ āĻāĻ•āϟি āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āĻ­্āϰāĻŽāĻŖ āϝāύ্āϤ্āϰ—"āĻ•াāϞ āϝাāϤ্āϰী"। āĻĄ. āĻĻেāĻŦাংāĻļু āϤাঁāϰ āĻĒ্āϰāĻĨāĻŽ āϝাāϤ্āϰাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ ā§§ā§Žā§Šā§Ļ āϏাāϞāĻ•ে āĻŦেāĻ›ে āύিāϞেāύ। āϤিāύি āϚে⧟েāĻ›িāϞেāύ āĻĻেāĻ–āϤে, āϏেāχ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿে āĻ•ীāĻ­াāĻŦে āĻŽাāύুāώ āϜীāĻŦāύāϝাāĻĒāύ āĻ•āϰāϤ, āĻ•ী āĻ›িāϞ āϤাঁāĻĻেāϰ āϏংāϏ্āĻ•ৃāϤি āĻāĻŦং āϚিāύ্āϤা। āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āϤিāύি āϜাāύāϤেāύ āύা, āϝে āϝাāϤ্āϰা āϤিāύি āĻļুāϰু āĻ•āϰāϤে āϝাāϚ্āĻ›েāύ, āϤা āĻšāĻŦে āĻāĻ• āĻ­ৌāϤিāĻ• āϝাāϤ্āϰা। āϝāĻ–āύ āĻĻেāĻŦাংāĻļু ā§§ā§Žā§Šā§Ļ āϏাāϞে āĻĒৌঁāĻ›াāϞেāύ, āϤāĻ–āύ āĻ­োāϰেāϰ āφāϞোāĻ“ āĻ•āĻŽāĻĒ্āϞিāϟāϞি āĻŽ্āϞাāύ āĻ›িāϞ। āĻ—্āϰাāĻŽেāϰ āϰাāϏ্āϤা⧟ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻšাঁāϟāĻ›িāϞ, āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻŦ্āϝāĻŦāϏা⧟ী āĻĻোāĻ•াāύ āϏাāϜাāϚ্āĻ›িāϞেāύ। āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻāĻ• āϧāϰāύেāϰ āĻ…āĻĻ্āĻ­ুāϤ āύীāϰāĻŦāϤা āĻŦিāϰাāϜ āĻ•āϰāĻ›িāϞ। āĻĻেāĻŦাংāĻļু āĻāĻ—ি⧟ে āϚāϞāϞেāύ, āϤāĻŦুāĻ“ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻāĻ•āϟা āϤাāϰ āĻ…āϜাāύা āϭ⧟āĻ•ে āϜাāĻ—ি⧟ে āϤুāϞāĻ›িāϞ। āĻ—্āϰাāĻŽেāϰ āĻāĻ• āĻŦৃāĻĻ্āϧ āϞোāĻ• āĻŦāϞāϞেāύ, "āϤুāĻŽি āϝে āϜা⧟āĻ—া⧟ āϝাāϚ্āĻ›, āϏেāĻ–াāύāĻ•াāϰ āĻ—āϞ্āĻĒ āĻļোāύা āύা, āϤুāĻŽি āĻŦিāĻĒāĻĻে āĻĒ⧜āĻŦে।" āĻ•িāύ্āϤু āĻĻেāĻŦাংāĻļু āϤাāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āĻ—ুāϰুāϤ্āĻŦ āĻĻিāϞেāύ āύা, āĻ•াāϰāĻŖ āϤিāύি āϤো āĻāĻ•āϜāύ ...

Lift Mein Bhoot Tha

Lift Mein Bhoot Tha Ek naye-naye banay flat mein Rahul ne rent par ghar liya. Job ke silsile mein hi Dilli aaya tha. Society ka naam tha – Silver Heights , lekin log isse chhup-chhup ke Killer Heights kehte the. Pehle din hi Rahul ko kuch ajeeb laga. Flat toh achha tha, lekin lift kuch zyada hi purani aur creepy thi. Jaise hi koi andar jata, halki si metallic chinghaad sunai deti thi – jaise kisi ne andar se chhilaya ho. Day 1 Rahul ne lift li, 13th floor pe jaa raha tha. Bas wahi ek banda tha puri lift mein. Jaise hi 7th floor par lift rukti hai, ek budhiya bina kuch bole chadh jaati hai. Rahul ke saamne khadi rehti hai, aankhon mein aankh daale. "Namaste aunty…" Rahul kehte hai. Budhiya chup. Sirf dekhti rehti hai. Tabhi lift ek jhatke se ruk jaati hai – beech mein . Lights off. Total darkness. Ek second mein light vaapas aati hai – aur budhiya gayab . Rahul shocked. "Ye kya tha??" Lift chalu hoti hai, 13th floor par pahuncha, par Rahul ne seedha guard ko pak...

"The Unexpected Guest"

  "The Unexpected Guest" Theme: Surprises, Laziness, and a Funny Encounter It was a typical Saturday for Raj — the kind of day that involved zero plans and plenty of doing nothing . As usual, he was in his pajamas, sprawled out on the couch, binge-watching his favorite show. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. It was a message from his mom : "I’m coming over to visit in an hour. Clean up!" Panic mode activated. Raj's room was a disaster. There were clothes everywhere, empty pizza boxes, and his bed looked like a crime scene . He had exactly 60 minutes to transform his room from a pigsty to something that resembled a living space. In a mad rush, Raj grabbed all the trash and stuffed it under his bed. He fluffed up his pillow, threw a blanket over the mess, and quickly wiped down the surface of his desk. "Done," he said proudly, admiring his work. But just as he thought he was safe, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from his mom : "A...