Desi Core - Blog Posts
ok let get one thing straight the "case" on ranveer allhabadhia is so CRAZY like bro wtf? you dont care about poverty in your country , you dont care about AQI, you dont care about r@pe case you dont care about divorce-alimony suicide cases but you care about a man who's obsessed with yeti make a joke about s3x, mother, father in the same line, like actively trying to cancel him??? INSANE
सब चाँद-तारे ला रहे हैं...
तुम पायल, चूड़ियाँ, झुमके और गजरा ले आना....
ऐसे वादे करें जिन्हें आप पूरा कर सकें
MAGDALENE BRIDE
There’s guilt that I retch onto the floor, and my rotting flesh stains the chapel, seeping into the cracks more than any of my prayers ever could. I gnaw at my own ribs, scraping them to pieces. The priest has remnants of me defiling his mouth, and the stoic eyes gaping at me from the pews—painted the same white as the walls, which have long forsaken me—don’t betray their dignity. Their postures are perfect, their suits well-pressed, and their expressions unyielding. The one awaited does not show up; he has become a prayer. Instead, he turns the bend and smiles—a smile that hints at quiet encouragement.
My body hits the floor, my knees bleeding—applauses are what reverberate. The space reeks of jasmine and myrrh, and the cold bite of metal from the cross stings my skin. The communion wafers lie long forgotten, and the sacramental wine dulls with the passage of time.I witness the priest standing a few feet away, his hands trembling with hunger."Young girls have corruption in their minds," he says. The horror of Jesus, hanging limply from the crucifix, his hands bleeding where they’ve been nailed and his feet rupturing flesh, gapes at me with open eyes full of helplessness and dread. A rag—grey with time, stained with his blood that is infected with rejection—hangs at his pelvis. The wooden framework encasing his heart of impotence and throat of meekness withers and cracks in the sun, but the dews remain cold. The congregation jitters and jeers, repulses and admires, devours and purges—they merely talk.
The stained-glass windows have witnessed men and women alike, with the eyes of its saints gouged out and their presence bleached by the sun. The children sink their nails into my skin as they taunt with their smiles, the candles serving them, delighting in the play they call their game. They like their toy. The priest prays at my hips, the altar cold and unforgiving against my back. He probes and digs at my flesh, tearing at it, splitting the skin—it does not tear cleanly. It clings because it lies. It pretends to be whole. The fibers, caught in clumps, wrap around his fingers, the blood soaking into his robes. But the sinews keep winding around his nails as he sinks deeper into the pulp. I witness my gaze burdening Jesus; he trembles, but his feet remain heavy with inaction, his body slack—limp, listless, beneath the weight of his own faithless mercy. It starts slow—a tear—but then my skin stretches and squelches. The audience gasps and gapes, the children laugh, Jesus suffers the terror of ridicule, and the rosary beads are made ever more maroon with blood spooling onto them.
My pov vs his.
(Brown dad core of a feline creature)
“I really want to meet his mother and give her all my love and affection in return for the son she bought into this world. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul who knows how to treat a person generously. I love your son, unconditionally and vividly that I want to be next to him for all eternity. Your son is healing something that he did not break, in the first place. Thank you for bringing him into this world so that we could happen for this eternity. I truly want to treat the two of you beautifully.
Yours truly,
Sumedha.”
[In frame: A Gerbera Daisy and a plushie that beholds a very beautiful purpose. My chronic episodes of nightmare and anxious panic attacks have been keeping me awake for weeks now. Even after all the efforts he has done from his end to make me feel safe, nights have been hauntingly hard. He believes that his gift will help me sleep better as he won’t be there next to me every night. He gifted me this for a better sleep. I pray every woman in this planet ends up with a human like him. Every person deserves a human being like my man.]
There were days where I held myself back down, days where I shut my heart down. But then, you came along with the pieces of your mending heart; clenching deep within your hands as you held them out to me. I saw you bleed, as you saw mine, when I held out my hands to reach yours. You didn’t flinch, neither did you stop me. A voice perhaps told you “It’s okay, she is bleeding too” as we simply held onto eachother. The wounds got deeper as we embraced one another. “I know it hurts, as it hurts me too, but we will be okay. You will be okay my love.”
-Be Gujju
-Don't force anyone to learn your language
-Keep pushing 2-3 Gujarati words every now and then in normal Hindi/English conversation.
-Repeat the process till other person learns whole vocabulary and starts speaking fluent Gujarati..
What if?!
What if i meet you again? or we meet again? Maybe on a gloomy day you are travelling in a bus and i get up and we see each other and suppose i don't recognize you, will you come to me and say "hey! umm- how are you? Are you able to recall me?"
or
what if i see you roaming around with your friends during Durga Pujo and i pass by and we make eye contact? will you stop and come to me saying, "long time no see? how are you?"
or
what if we crash into each other and our belongings fall from our hands and we help each other pick them up? will you look into my eyes are say, "are you by any chance, hiya?"
or
what if we are watching a movie in the same theatre sitting beside each other unaware of our presence and when the lights turn on during the interval you see me and i don't? will you call me?
or
you will just do nothing? will you just look at me and move away? will you just pass with your friends? will you just pick up my belongings and go away? or you will just look and me and ignore?
i don't know!
Today, as I was browsing YouTube, I stumbled upon a video uploaded by SVF clips featuring scenes from the Bengali movie "Villain." Intrigued by the snippets, I promptly logged into Hoichoi to watch the full film.
However, the experience turned out to be quite disappointing. The storyline, plot, music, and dialogues were all incredibly cringeworthy. I find myself regretting my decision to watch it.
It makes me wonder why the Bengali film industry seems preoccupied with producing such films. Movies like "Bindass," "Herogiri," and others of their ilk — are they even worthy of being called movies?
I forgot to add the beautiful lyrics of the song present in the movie "chokhe legeche dhoya tor angul choyar nesha legeche bedon (ki egulo???) nei thik thikana bhule giye bahana, sudhu thote thot khujbe norom, doze doze doze chade pyaar ki yeh doze"
I'm feeling deeply unsettled at the moment. Once a year, Koushik Ganguly and Srijit Mukherji return with their thought-provoking films, which truly stand out as gems. I find myself longing for the era of Satyajit Ray and Rituparno Ghosh, whose films defined Bangla cinema.
Ajke ei tuku, pore ashchi ekta chotto biroti niye songe thakun shusto thakun.
What does a women want ?!
Women are always known or praised for beauty. For example, your hair is so beautiful, you have a mesmerizing body, your smile is pretty, you fingers are so slim, and what not. However we women are never praised for our intelligence, confidence, observation, patience, organizing ability. We never hear these compliments from anyone.
We women want respect and such mesmerizing praises from everyone even from the one we love. The world has unrealistic expectations from women. I will not mention the list of expectations because this is known to everyone.
To all the men and boys out here, respect the girl or women you love. I know you do but still praise her when she succeeds and support her even at her worst because being physical is the not the true sign of love, staying beside her when she needs you the most, wishing her the best and being happy in her success is the true sign of love and that love stays forever. Just don't keep her as "show off parody".
ছুঁয়ে দিলে মন-বিনা বেজে ওঠে যে
দে ভিজিয়ে শুধু যেন আঁখি না ভেজে,
জানিনা কিভাবে তোকে বলি এ আমি
কত রাগই থেকে যাবে হয়ে বেনামী।
মরমিয়া মন, মানেনা এখন
কেন সে বাওয়ারা,
রং মেশায় দিন রাতে
এ দু’চোখেরই দরিয়াতে,
কে আর তুই ছাড়া ....
লাগে না, লাগে না
আজ জিয়া তুই ছাড়া,
🛺🦢📃🌼🥥🪔🎡🐚
