প্ৰজ্ঞা-An intuition

I want to document every little detail of my daily life—not for anyone else to see, but for myself. Every fleeting moment, every thought, emotion, sound, and quiet corner of my day holds meaning for me. I believe that even the most ordinary experiences—like the way sunlight falls on my desk in the morning, the scent of tea leaves, or the quiet rhythm of my footsteps—deserve to be remembered. Writing them down helps me slow down and connect with myself more deeply. It's my way of preserving the invisible threads that weave each day together, creating a personal archive of who I am and how I live.

#ঘৰ নহয় যেন এখনি আশ্ৰম♥️ #এখন ঘৰ বিচাৰি পোৱাৰ আঁৰৰ কাহিনী... (18/12/2024) " কোনো মানুহৰ ঘৰ একেদৰে নাথাকে, সময়ৰ সোঁতে সলাই নিয়ে আপোন ঘৰ, আপোন মানুহ।চিনাকি বাট তেতিয়া অচিনাকি হৈ যায়। এয়াই সত্য জীৱনৰ।" ~জলছবি (গোলাঘাট জিলাৰ পুৰণি আমোলাপট্টিত থকা বাঁহৰ কামিত,গোবৰ মাটিৰে লেপা  ১৪০ বছৰ পুৰণি বিশিষ্ট সংগীত পৰিচালক, বেহেলা বাদক মাণিক বৰাৰ বাসগৃহ।)🍁The residence of renowned lyricist, composer, music director and violinist,Manik Bora... 🍁 বিশিষ্ট গীতিকাৰ, সুৰকাৰ, সংগীত পৰিচালক, বেহেলা বাদক শ্ৰদ্ধাৰ মানিক বৰাদেৱৰ অসমীয়া বোলছবি জগতলৈ যি অপৰিসীম অৱদান সেইয়া অনস্বীকাৰ্য। চিৰসেউজ গীতসমূহেৰে সকলো সংস্কৃতিপ্রেমী ৰাইজৰ অন্তৰত সাঁচ বহুৱাই যোৱা "বসন্ত-মানিক" যুটি সদা স্মৰণীয়।এইয়া বিশিষ্ট গীতিকাৰ, সুৰকাৰ, সংগীত পৰিচালক, বেহেলা বাদক শ্ৰদ্ধাৰ মানিক বৰাদেৱৰ বাসগৃহ।মানিক বৰা,গোলাঘাট ৰূপবন সংগীত মহাবিদ্যালয়ৰ অধ্যক্ষ আৰু "ঘৰ-সংসাৰ", "সোন-মইনা" আদি বহু কেইখন জনপ্রিয় অসমীয়া বোলছবিৰ সংগীত পৰিচালক তথা 'চলচিত্র বঁটা প্রাপক আছিল।তেওঁলোকৰ অমৰ সৃষ্টি,হিয়াৰ মৰম মুকুতা হৈ...

🗓️ 18th February, 2025 🕊️ Title:A Day to Remember Today was not just another day. It felt like a page from a book I never knew I was writing — gentle, unplanned, yet filled with meaning. Along with fifteen of my dear student friends, we journeyed to Moran Mahila Mahavidyalaya — a place that welcomed us with quiet grace and a fresh morning breeze. We arrived by 8:30 AM, the college alive with signs of new beginnings under the warm guidance of our newly appointed principal, Dr. Tarun Gogoi Sir. His presence radiated a quiet hope, like the start of spring. After a simple breakfast, we walked through the library and around the peaceful campus. The day was flowing calmly… until something unexpected happened — a spontaneous gathering in the college auditorium. Unplanned. Unscripted. And yet, so beautifully real. Our student friends took the stage one by one, sharing from the heart — emotions, dreams, little truths. Their words, however soft, echoed deep. I too felt the pull to speak, and w...

🌼My Everyday Rituals I find joy in the little habits that quietly shape my days. Each morning, during my bus journey, I put on my earphones and let music fill my world. I often find myself daydreaming , letting my thoughts wander freely, painting soft stories in the sky outside my window. I always carry a notebook —just in case a poetic thought visits me. I jot things down, in fragments and feelings . I notice everything: how someone carries themselves , how someone speaks , the rhythm in the ordinary. Reading is another gentle part of my day. I make it a point to read something new every day , no matter how small. I underline words, lines, ideas —and keep them tucked away for the future, like tiny treasures. Language fascinates me. I’m always in search of new words , whether in Assamese or other languages. Words carry color, emotion, memory . I want to learn them, keep them close. Every day, I also choose to look at one person’s creative work —someone whose life or art inspir...

Another day unfolds here in Assam, tender and unhurried, and I welcome it just as it comes. I don’t follow a fixed schedule —the charm of my days lies in their quiet unpredictability. Each morning begins with the familiar 9 a.m. bus to Golaghat , but it’s never just a commute. It’s a slow-moving window into life itself. That 45-minute ride becomes a canvas of fleeting moments : the sway of green fields, strangers lost in thought, snippets of conversation that feel like passing poems . I sit by the window, watching it all—with soft eyes and a quiet heart. Once I step off the bus, a peaceful walk awaits me. Ten or fifteen minutes through a world that feels secret and alive. The earth beneath my feet, the scent of the season in the air , flowers blooming quietly on the roadside like whispered verses. Fallen leaves and delicate petals catch my eye—I stop, sometimes kneel, to gather a few. They find a home between the pages of my diaries and books, pressed into memory, kept like love le...