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It’s not morning yet. Don’t know why I couldn’t sleep anymore in such a dawn in chilly winter? After long days, I woke up in such a bird chirping morning! I almost forgot the flavor of dawn.
Suddenly, I found out a strange sweet fragrance clustered around my little lonely room. What is this smell? I looked out though the window. A bunch of fabulous Hasnahena (flavored flower; Cestrum nocturnum) has bloomed right before the window. Oh! What a delightful flower it is! I don’t remember how long the amusement remained in me…

As long as the sun shines bright, I captured the photograph of Hasnahena. Seems like dew-drops have a firm bondage with the precious flower…
The photograph also forms the same fragrance, isn’t it?

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...after roaming around a while in the `city of tea’, we started for a friend’s residence. The occasion of DURGA PUJA just appeared in, with a colourful rhythm of life… the hypnotising rhythm took us to a nearer ‘stage of PUJA’. I turned my camera on and started framing dim-witted pictures and among those photos, it captured this unique one…

Two long years have passed away, and I can listen to the rhythm of PUJA again, which reminds me the distant memories, I searched out the photograph again…, Where memories remain..

SHUVO BIJOYA
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'' Dear GOD, if you're listening please bring some light into these dark times.. A little light, please...''

(( There are times when we long to be able to help someone whom we love very much, but we can do nothing. Circumstances will not allow us to approach them, or the person is closed off to any gesture of solidarity and support.
Then all we are left with is love. At such times, when we can do nothing else, we can still love - without expecting any reward or change or gratitude.
If we do this, the energy of love will begin to transform the universe about us. Wherever this energy appears, it always achieves its ends.. REMAINING OPEN TO LOVE, From Like the Flowing River by Paulo Coelho))

And thanks for my unknown model, its really such natural pose.. (look, Her eyes says something, you could read it)!! Actually my camera had caught her on a GAGADESH'S festivals-called-Kothin Chibor Dan!!!

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A rose dreamed day and night about bees, but no bee ever landed on her petals.
The flower, however, continued to dream. During the long nights, she imagined a heaven full of bees, which flew down to bestow fond kisses on her. By doing this, she was able to last until the next day, when she opened again to the light of the sun.
One night, the moon, who knew of the rose's loneliness, asked: 'Aren't you tired of waiting?'
'Possibly, but I have to keep trying.'
'Why?'
'Because if I don't remain open, I will simply fade away.'
At times, when loneliness seems to crush all beauty, the only way to resist is to remain open...

(TEXT From Like the Flowing River, © 2006 by Paulo Coelho, published by HarperCollins..

What is love? the desert asked.

And the boy answered, "Love is the falcon's flight over your sands. Because for him, you are a green field from which he always returns with game. He knows your rocks, your dunes, and your mountains, and you are generous to him."

"The falcon's beak carries bits of me, myself," the desert said. "For years I care for his game, for the little waterthat I have, and then I show him where the game is. And, one day, as I enjoy the fact that his game thrives on my surface, the falcon dives out of the sky, and takes away what I've created."

"But that's why you created the game in the first place," the boy answered. "To nourish the falcon. And the falcon then nourishes man. And, eventually, man will nourish your sands, where the game will once again flourish. That's how the world goes."

So is that what love is?

"Yes, that's what love is. It's what makes the game become the falcon, the falcon become the man, and man, in his turn, become the desert. It's what turns lead into gold, and makes the gold return to the earth."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," the desert said.

"But you can at least understand that somewhere in your sands there is a woman waiting for me. And that's why I have to turn myself into the wind."

(one of favorite part of The Alchemist, by paulo coelho)