Author: Choitalyk Ruman

  • The Time Trick

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    Have you ever received a gift card for your birthday? Now, imagine it’s loaded with a million dollars! You’d probably think, “Wow! I’ll save this for something really special.”

    But what if that gift card slowly lost money every day? And what if you never knew the exact day it would stop working? Would you still wait to use it?

    That’s exactly how time works.

    Why We Keep Waiting

    When we’re young, it feels like time is endless. You might catch yourself thinking things like:

    “I’ll learn to play the drums when I’m older.”

    “I’ll visit my grandparents more next summer.”

    “I’ll start that art project someday.”

    This is what I call the Time Trick (or Time Illusion). It tricks us into believing we can always do the important things later because there’s plenty of time.

    The Reality

    Here’s the truth nobody often says: We never really know how much time we have. Life can change in a heartbeat. You might get busier. Friends may move away. That “perfect moment” you’re waiting for might never come.

    This isn’t a reason to stop dreaming, planning, or working toward the future. It’s a reminder to balance your tomorrow with today. You can build your future while actually living in the present.

    A Small Challenge

    1. Write down three things you keep saying “someday” about.
      Maybe it’s:

    Learning to bake cookies

    Writing a story

    Calling a friend you miss

    Building something creative

    1. Pick one small thing you can start easily. No money, no fancy tools required.
    2. Set a day this week to begin. Even just 15 minutes counts!

    You can plan for the future without putting life on hold today. The best time to start something meaningful is right now.

    So, what’s one “someday” thing you could begin this week?

    #ChoitalykRuman ,#ummeymiah

  • To My Beloved Son

    By Ummey R.Miah

    In the garden of the Eternal, you blossomed
    A sacred trust, a soul of light.
    Breathed into being by the Beloved’s grace,
    You shine with radiance upon your face.

    O Rohan, child of my heart, yet not mine to own,
    You are heaven’s jewel, more rare than gold.
    A single drop from the Infinite Sea,
    Dancing for a while on this path with me.

    Like the reed that Rumi wept for, once torn,
    Your spirit remembers the Source it was born.
    And I, a humble traveler through time,
    Am blessed to walk with your steps in rhyme.

    Your laughter carries the Song of the spheres,
    Your tears unveil where love draws me near.
    In every breath we share together,
    I glimpse the Divine in subtle weather.

    May your soul find the Beloved in all things,
    May Love be the wind beneath your wings.
    May your heart remain a sanctuary clear,
    Where Truth and Peace forever appear.

    You are the answer to my silent prayer,
    A mirror revealing God everywhere.
    Not mine by possession, but heaven’s sending,
    Two souls entwined, toward the One ascending.

    ##ChoitalykRuman:#ummeymiah

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    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

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    #ChoitalykRuman;#ummeymiah #??????? ?????

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    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

  • The Grapevine’s Song

    By #Choitalyk Ruman

    On a wide, bright garden wall,
    A grapevine climbs and stands tall.
    Its curly arms reach left and right,
    Holding on softly, with all its might.

    Bunches of grapes hang low and sweet,
    Purple and golden in the heat.
    Each one shines like morning sun,
    Full of juice for everyone.

    The leaves change colors through the year,
    Red and orange when fall comes near.
    Nature paints them one by one,
    With shadows cool and light from sun.

    Dear grapevine, wise and kind and old,
    Your gifts are stories softly told.
    From branch to bowl, from hand to heart,
    You share your sweetness like true art..

    #ChoitalykRuman;#ummeymiah

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    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

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    #Choitalyk Ruman; #ummeymiah#????????????

    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

  • The Sharpest Wound

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    The sharpest wound is not of flesh and bone,
    But of a trusted soul that slips away.
    Betrayal
    It shakes the roots of the heart,
    A pain no tears can measure.
    It echoes beyond the body, beyond emotion,
    A silent earthquake beneath the spirit.

    But listen,
    Even in the trembling,
    Your breath still rises, your heart still sings.
    You are alive.
    And life itself is God’s hand upon your chest,
    Whispering: “Stay. There is more for you.”

    So pause.
    Gather your scattered light.
    Name the miracles within you:
    Your kindness, your strength, your laughter,
    The quiet ways you’ve healed others,
    Even while bleeding yourself.

    Forgive yourself for trusting,
    For loving deeply.
    These are not weaknesses,
    But sacred proof your soul is pure.

    Let the past be a river.
    Stand on the bank,
    And watch it flow away.
    Do not chase it.

    Instead, move.
    Stretch your body like dawn unfolding,
    Walk beneath the sky until your spirit breathes again.
    Pray until your tears turn into gold.

    For every betrayal is not just an ending,
    But an initiation.
    A call to rise higher,
    To return not hardened,
    But holier.

    #ChoitalykRuman #ummeymiah 9/26/2025

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    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

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  • The Teacher Who Still Brings People Together

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    Now, every Friday evening, Mrs. Johnson’s house feels like it has a heartbeat again. The quiet ticking of the old wall clock is replaced by laughter that bounces off the walls, the clatter of spoons in bowls, and the soft hum of voices telling stories. Neighbors drift in carrying small offerings — a basket of fruit, a plate of cookies, sometimes just their presence — and each one brings a different shade of life to the table.

    It isn’t a formal gathering. There are no invitations, no schedules, no expectations. Some Fridays, only two or three people show up. Other weeks, a dozen crowd around, pulling chairs from every corner of the house. But however many come, Mrs. Johnson prepares with the same care, knowing that each seat she sets is a quiet promise: you belong here.

    Her children, though far away, often ask her on the phone, “Mom, are you managing all right by yourself?” She always smiles before answering. Because the truth is, she isn’t by herself anymore. Her table has become a little anchor in the neighborhood, drawing in those who feel lonely, those who are too tired to cook, those who simply long for conversation at the end of a long week.

    Mrs. Johnson has discovered something she never expected in her later years — that love can return in different shapes. Sometimes it doesn’t come from the family you raised, but from the strangers who become family through shared meals and gentle laughter.

    So she no longer sets the table for two. She sets it for whoever might arrive that evening, trusting that her home has room for them. And each Friday, when she sees the empty plates slowly fill, and the silence replaced with joy, she feels her husband’s presence too — as though he is smiling quietly, proud that she chose connection over solitude.

    Because what nourishes the soul isn’t only food, but the knowledge that someone was waiting, that someone saved you a place, and that at least once a week, you truly belong.

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    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

  • The Story of a Woman Named Tahura

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    I have a friend named Tahura. Full name was Tahura Parvin. For as long as I can remember, she had been searching for love. She always believed that somewhere out there was someone who would make her whole, someone who could finally fill the emptiness she often felt inside.

    But over time, she began to notice something. Attraction was not love-it could appear quickly and just as quickly fade away. Longing was not love either — it was only temporary. The rush of excitement, the nervous energy, even the sweetest promises — all of these, too, could change or break with time.

    After many rises and falls in her life, one evening Tahura had a realization. Love was never outside of her. Love was not a thing to be given or taken, but a quiet field within her, always present. In that field lived joy and sorrow, hope and despair, beginnings and endings. Relationships might stay or dissolve, people might come and go — but the field itself never disappeared.

    She understood then: no one had ever “given” her love. In truth, she had only touched her own vastness when she was with another, and then she had mistakenly credited them for it. And when she thought love was gone, it hadn’t actually left — she had simply forgotten the field within. Love, she saw, was like the ocean, unchanged beneath the rise and fall of waves.

    Today, Tahura no longer searches for love outside herself. She has learned to live as the light. Instead of clinging to another’s affection, she finds joy in giving love freely. Her greatest discovery has been this: what she longed for all along was already inside her.

    With a gentle smile she often says,
    “The search begins and ends in the same place — in presence. I realized that I am love itself, and once I knew that, everything changed.

    ????????????????

    Copyright © 2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.