# Strange World ```html এক অদ্ভুত পৃথিবী এই, যেখানে মানুষ হাসে অথচ কাঁদে মনে মনে। প্রতিদিন সকালে সূর্য ওঠে, আর আমরা যাই কাজে ফিরে ফিরে— একই রাস্তায়, একই মুখে হাসি। কেউ কখনো প্রশ্ন করে না, কেন আমাদের চোখ সবসময় ভেজা। এক অদ্ভুত পৃথিবী এই, যেখানে ভালোবাসা একটি বিলাসিতা, আর স্বপ্ন দেখা একটি অপরাধ। আমরা বেঁচে থাকি, কিন্তু বাঁচি না। আমরা কথা বলি, কিন্তু শোনি না। এক অদ্ভুত পৃথিবী এই, যেখানে সবকিছু সম্ভব— সবকিছু ছাড়া পরিবর্তন। ``` --- # Strange World ```html A strange world this is, where people smile though their hearts bleed in silence. Each dawn the sun rises, and we return to our work, again and again— the same roads, the same painted smiles. No one ever asks why our eyes are always wet. A strange world this is, where love is a luxury, and dreaming a crime. We live, but do not live. We speak, but do not hear. A strange world this is, where everything is possible— everything except change. ```

September 8, 2020 1 min read By Sushanta Paul

Although I would like to be
filled with the pure essence
and transmit in crisp whites
that self, that transcends
the daily struggle,
I entangle myself in the routine
without finding my soul.

I can see nothing but a "here"
and an escape "now"
that defines the walls of my fears,
throwing me into the soliloquies
of an aurora battered
with pain and agony.

But the involution advances
and this world does not find a goal,
a solidarity project,
that combines solutions
and distorts conflicts.

I don't want to have to
raise my voice over the mass,
I don't want my truth as absolute.
I long to add experiences and answers
in a world that is more than a sum of egos.

But I am still here,
quiet and resurgent,
recreating myself in
my personal sufferings,
gagged in my self-absorbed being.

With nothing to offer
I spend my days and
I only know how to complain
to a strange world.

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