Beginnings
No dream is broken
Make it whole again.
No stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams
Sit down and begin again.
Bonu
I was taking my 5-year-old niece to the park today and she asked me what we'd be doing. 'Accha amra park e ghurbo ar catch catch khelbo'(1) I said. She gives me that gleeful giggle of her and asks, 'Ar aloo kabli khabona?'(2) She loves aloo kabli above all worldly pleasures. 'Sure little one' Later once home, Nitu sat in my lap doodling an aloo kabli wallah while I was scrolling through my newsfeed. Up came a post about Asifa, some petition asking for justice. Nitu being the curious little tich is all, ‘Oma, bonu ta ki cute! (3) Who’s she?’ She goes back to her doodling when I don’t or rather can't answer. And suddenly it comes crashing in at that moment. I realise that somewhere, someone had seen a little pari like my Nitu and he hadn’t thought about ‘park e ghora', 'catch catch khela’ or ‘ aloo kabli khawa’, instead he’d thought about ‘rape’, ‘hatred’ and ‘violence’. Humanity was getting bleaker by the day and... ‘Mani’, she says brea
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