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Bio of Tulip Chowdhury
A former English language instructor, Tulip is passionate about nature, writing, music, reading, swimming, traveling and hosting TV shows. She is a columnist with Daily Sun, Bangladesh. She is deeply involved with community activities and loves to volunteer. Tulip has authored several books. The latest is 1. Skirts & Saris, 2. Love and Mother, and 3. Blood and Roses. The books were launched at the Boi Mela, 2019 in Dhaka, Bangladesh by Prokriti Publishers and Balaka Publishers.
Her novel Visible, Invisible and Beyond, a metaphysical fiction, and Red, Blue, Purple, a poetry collection are available at Amazon. Tulip lives in Massachusetts, USA. She can be reached at tulipchowdhury@gmail.com.
Caught in the Pandemic
Jan 18, 2021 3 years agoCaught in the Pandemic The life struggles of families caught in the pandemic are beyond words. CVID-19, the virus may be invisible, but the pains are real. While parents, guardians, and children share the roof, getting the requirements and other daily life essentials are like time bombs waiting within the stressed caretakers. There is the tension is of catching the virus and possible death. Then money is needed, and every payday comes with a warning bell: how long will the job run with financial crisis hitting the world and the vast layoffs coming with it? Worries hover over the family and the basic needs as parents face a possible lack of funds to pay rents and the utilities. Flashes of homeless people on the streets of one's home town scare the wits out of the caretakers of the young and the elderly ones. At times, questions come like wildfire and burns through the day's energy; what if I could not take care? What if I catch the virus?" Disturbed and feeling lost, one might want to run in the fresh air or hang out with friends to share those doubts and worries. But there are the unlikely chances of doing any of those things, for the virus has us in quarantine. And worse, there is a variant out now; even with a vaccine, rescue is still far away. Then, when the father walks into his master bedroom, worries fill the air above like the dark clouds of a storm. The scenario before him real and yet feels unrealistic. It's like stuck in a cage of uncertain times. There are four PCs plugged in, and family members are busy working and learning on the online system has taken over life day in and day out. The son and the daughter have classes running on Google classroom, have their headphones on. From time to time, they consult each other about lessons they do not understand. The mother is a data analyst and is busy with her work, silent and clicking away on the keyboard. The master bedroom has the best connection to the server, and the Internet has smooth speed. Thanks to the Internet, life is still moving with keeping many alive. The thought of lives lost in the pandemic brings sighs. Thought-clouds hover around nooks and corners of the home, and the rest of the world caught in the pandemic. When shall the world be free of the COVID-19? God, please help us! The End
Living on Eggshells
Nov 17, 2019 5 years agoIn the fragility of our lives, we seek permanence, a bit of assurance that our footprints would not vanish like seconds disappearing into the realm of time. This struggle is like a common denominator uniting us, the humans regardless of our race, religion or color. While we put our energies into building blocks of material wealth, social status and seek love, our actual war is in the invisible world of our fear of losing what we have. We make houses, work and save money, and strive for recognition among other fellow beings. While our definitions of life are endless, the highlighter is our hope to live on, to keep the heart beating despite all the bumps on the road. We live in silent denial of the end while every fraction of second screams on it. We think that death should be kept at a hand's length for the harshness of it makes us sad. Perhaps at the crack of dawn, when we have made it through the night, and the heart is still beating, we need to remind ourselves that the sunset of that day may not be witnessed by us all, that midday sun may not find us in its illumination. And that life may not come back at the full circle to the next morning to find us awake. The eggshells on which we walk every day may give away to a catalytic, delivered by life, the great catalyst. Forever are we suspended between birth and death. It's like life repeating over and over, every day, and every second, " I shall kick you out of this world" while we keep saying, " We are creating permanence in the world of impermanence."
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