Thanks for everything Allah

 

The shinning star

My new philosophy of life and hope

- March 13, 2021

  Thanks for your support my friend and my readers I will never give up on my dream to be a counselor . My disability is not going to stop me from helping people This Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month, I hope this month for those of you with disabilities you relate to my content and remember that you're more than your disability, that having fun with life and living with a disability aren't mutually exclusive, for those of you who don't have disabilities, I hope this month I can shed some light what it's like to live with a disability and dispel some stereotypes Helping others through social work is one of my main goals and passions in life because I have always wanted to advocate for people. I have cerebral palsy, which has made me realize how important it is to convey your own ideas and messages in a positive manner to the world. I discovered I wanted to be a social worker when I was fifteen. I used my voice to advocate and resolve a family fight between my aunt and uncle that had lasted two hours. Although I could not physically intervene and resolve the issue, I acted as a moderator and was able to use my voice to convince them to listen to and see each other’s perspectives. I realized that I was never going to stand idly by and do nothing when people are in trouble. This experience taught me that I have the power to advocate for myself and others. This was a realization for me because when I learned to advocate for myself, I was able to say what I needed without worrying about whether others would advocate for what I truly needed. I want to be able to teach my clients about this very important skill that has changed my life.

 My physical disability provides me with a unique sense of empathy for those who are disabled as well as any individual seeking to discover the power of their own voice. I want to help each of my clients use their voice as a tool to enable them to communicate their messages and experiences peacefully, so that they make people aware of their problems. People must never be afraid to stand up for what they believe in and ensure that their powerful voices are heard. Even if people have no other resources available to them, each person has a voice. It is your most valuable resource because no one can ever take it away from you. As a social worker, I will encourage my clients to utilize their voices by helping them use their passions to create different outlets that help them become comfortable sharing their unique experiences with other people. 

     My passion for writing also contributes to my interest in social work. I enjoy writing because it helps me express myself and alleviate my frustrations. Writing has had a huge influence on my life. It taught me valuable skills, including patience, authenticity, dedication, and confidence. It strengthens my ability to advocate for people and share my experiences, knowledge, and feelings with people. This began when I created a beautiful heartfelt blog called the Shining Star where I write posts on many different topics. Writing makes me happy and a better person and advocate. My blog allows me to use my voice to advocate, inform, and educate my readers to help influence them to make a positive change. My voice is reaching a big audience, people from all over the world, —including the United States all way to Poland India, Egypt ,Saudi Arabia, France, Kuwait and the Philippines . I use my blog to advocate for people by educating and informing my audience on many different topics that are important to me such as educational inequality, gender roles, media, representation, Syrian refugees, and Egypt. My blog allows me to advocate for myself and use my knowledge to influence my readers from all over the world. Writing has enabled me to observe the world and its tendencies. Through writing, I can advocate for myself and others by creating a blog where I can freely share my knowledge and experience with the world so I can inform and influence people in different countries around the world. As a social worker, I will work with my clients to help them find their voices and different outlets to express themselves while I teaching them how to advocate independently so they become as comfortable sharing their unique experiences with other people as I am I with writing. 

Sometimes not being able to help people physically can be very challenging; however, I am very good at being empathetic and offering emotional support. When my father was diagnosed with cancer, I could not do anything for him physically, but I sat home with him every day keeping him company; we watched basketball together, I talked to him, helped him with phone calls, and listened to him tell me stories. I encouraged him with positive words such as be strong and “I love you”. This experience made me realize that I want my future career to involve this individual care for people. As a counselor, I want to make people comfortable in their own skin, allowing them to use their voice to convey their messages and experiences. As a counselor I will provide my patients with emotional support by listening to their stories and having them take initiative to develop self-advocacy by leading discussions. The most important types of emotional support are patience and a positive attitude. I will be there for my clients and provide them with hope and confidence in their stories, talents, and abilities, allowing them to develop self-advocacy skills and become productive members of society. My father taught me how powerful emotional support truly is, and providing emotional support to my patients will be more important than physical support.

As a counselor, I can create an environment where people are not afraid to talk about religion or social problems. I plan to have open discussions with my clients, by asking open-ended questions such as “Why do you think you are here today?” and “What makes you unique?”. These conversations can help me break the ice and build a strong rapport with clients. A therapist’s work cannot begin until a comfortable relationship with a client is established; a strong connection with clients is the foundation for therapy. I want to give individuals the opportunity to express what is going on without subjecting them to double-blinded questions, in which however they answer, they are somehow wrong. Rather than put a negative connotation to their answer, I want to hear them out and allow them to express themselves more freely. As a therapist, I will teach my patients how to take advantage of their own abilities. As a result, my clients will learn to accept their differences and embrace their unique identities and talents, because no one should ever be ashamed of who they are. No matter what life throws at you, people can always achieve their dreams and goals. In order to progress as a society, we must cast away this false idea of what “normal” is. 

My internship at Abilities allowed me to focus on this issue and make a difference. During this time, I worked in business communications and helped students with their resumes and cover letters. I was able to advocate for the students and highlight the qualities that made them stand out as individuals. This internship helped me realize that I want to become a therapist to help people with their problems, along with becoming an activist who speaks up for people who feel like they do not have a voice. I am aware that there is a stigma against attending therapy, so I want to create an environment where people feel safe and comfortable to fully express themselves. I hope to make people comfortable talking about a variety of topics so we can alleviate their frustrations together. Even if people do not want to talk about their problems, I will listen to their frustrations as a friend if they just need someone to talk to.

My last semester at Hofstra, I had to write a research project for the semester in my sociology class. I wrote about Islamophiobia and Syrian refugees. I became engrossed in the research. It touched my heart to point where my research was not just for school anymore. This research really opened my eyes to the struggles of Syrian refugees. During this semester, I discovered my passion for Syrian refugees. I become so attached and concerned about the wellbeing of Syrian refugees that I knew I must advocate for them to help end this serious humanitarian crisis.. I have continued to research the refugee crisis and how Islamophobia is strong barrier faced by innocent refugees. There is absolutely no reason for Americans to be afraid of Muslims who practice a peaceful religion in society. My research has inspired me to advocate for Syrian refugees as well as any group of people who cannot fight for themselves and help individuals discover their inner power and amplify their voices, and experiences to the world. One of my major goals is to provide Syrian refugees with a platform to speak out about their personal experiences. I realize that I cannot stop all conflict, but at least as a counselor, I can use my voice to help people gain their voices and provide them the skills to advocate for themselves. My research on Syria refugees makes me want to advocate for them and become an ambassador for the United Nations idealistically. I want to help people and my extensive research on Syrian refugees makes me realize that I want to take action. Not only do I want to become a therapist to help people with their problems, but I also want to become an activist to advocate for people who feel like they are powerless. This advocating is not limited to people with disabilities, but all people who need a voice because society has muffled their sound with unfounded discrimination.  

I am eager to join the Hhunter Uuniversity School of Social Work for several reasons. I believe the social work program can teach me the skills necessaryskills necessary to become a therapist , who allows people to understand themselves so that they can reach their full potential and influence others to do the same. I love writing so I also look forward to my research papers and my field ,placement. Hunter’s School of Social Work offers students the option to choose a specialization in a field of practice (FOP). My concentration willconcenHelping others through social work is one of my main goals and passions in life because I have always wanted to advocate for people. I have cerebral palsy, which has made me realize the importance of conveying your own ideas and messages independently, in a positive and respectful manner to the world. I discovered I wanted to be a social worker when I was fifteen years old. I used my voice to advocate resolving a family fight between my aunt and uncle that had lasted two hours. Although I could not physically intervene and resolve the issue, I acted as a moderator and was able to use my voice to convince them to listen to and see each other’s each other’s perspectives. I realized that I was never going to stand idly by and do nothing when people are in trouble. This experience taught me that I have the power to advocate for myself and others. This was a realization for me because when I learned to advocate for myself, I was able to communicate my needs without worrying about whether others would advocate for me and understand what I truly needed. I want to be able to teach my clients, and those I come across as social worker about this very important skill that has changed my life.

 My physical disability gives me a unique sense of empathy for those who are disabled as well as any individual seeking to discover the power of their own voice. I want to help each of my clients use their voice as a tool to enable them to communicate their messages and experiences peacefully, so that they make people aware of their problems. People must never be afraid to stand up for what they believe in and ensure that their powerful voices are heard. Even if people have no other resources available to them, each person has a voice. It is your most valuable resource because no one can ever take it away from you. As a social worker, I will encourage my clients to utilize their voices by helping them use their passions to create different outlets that help them become comfortable sharing their unique experiences with other people. 

 My passion for writing also contributes to my interest in social work. I enjoy writing because it helps me express myself and alleviate my frustrations. Writing has had a huge influence on my life. It taught me valuable skills, including patience, authenticity, dedication, and confidence. It strengthens my ability to advocate for people and share my experiences knowledge and feelings with people.This began when I created a beautiful heartfelt blog called the Shining Star where I write posts on many different topics. Writing makes me happy and a better person and advocate. My blog allows me to use my voice to advocate, inform, and educate my readers to help influence them to make a positive change. My voice is reaching a big audience people from all over the world—from the United States all way to Poland, India, Egypt ,Saudi Arabia, France, Kuwait, and the Philippines. I use my blog to advocate for people by educating and informing my audience on many different topics that are important issues to me such as: educational inequality, gender roles, media, representation, Syrian refugees, and Egypt. Writing has enabled me to observe the world and its tendencies. Through writing, I can advocate for myself and others. by creating a blog where I can freely share my knowledge and experience with the world so I can inform and influence people in different countries around the world. I know that everyone does not enjoy writing. As a social worker, I will work with my clients to help them find their voices and different outlets to express themselves while I teach them how to advocate independently so they become as comfortable sharing their unique experiences with other people as I am I with writing. 

Sometimes not being able to help people physically can be very challenging; however, I am very good at being empathetic and offering emotional support. When my father was diagnosed with cancer, I could not do anything for him physically, but I sat home with him every day keeping him company; we watched basketball together, I talked to him, helped him with phone calls, and listened to him tell me stories. I encouraged him with positive words such as be strong and “I love you”. This experience made me realize that I want my future career to involve this individual care for people. As a counselor, I want to make people comfortable in their own skin, allowing them to use their voice to convey their messages and experiences. As a counselor, I will provide my patients with emotional support by listening to their stories and having them take initiative to develop self-advocacy by leading discussions. The most important types of emotional support are patience and a positive attitude. I will be there for my clients and provide them with hope and confidence in their stories, talents, and abilities, allowing them to develop self-advocacy skills and become productive members of society. My father taught me how powerful emotional support truly is, and I believe providing emotional support to my patients will be more important than physical support.

As a counselor, I can create an environment where people are not afraid to talk about religion or social problems. I plan to have open discussions with my clients, by asking open-ended questions such as “Why do you think you are here today?” and “What makes you unique?”. These conversations can help me break the ice and build a strong rapport with clients. A therapist’s work cannot begin until a comfortable relationship with a client is established; a strong connection with clients is the foundation for therapy. I want to give individuals the opportunity to express what is going on without subjecting them to double-blinded questions, in which however they answer, they are somehow wrong. Rather than put a negative connotation to their answer, I want to hear them out and allow them to express themselves more freely. As a therapist, I will teach my patients how to take advantage of their own abilities. As a result, my clients will learn to accept their differences and embrace their unique identities and talents, because no one should ever be ashamed of who they are. No matter what life throws at you, people can always achieve their dreams and goals. In order to progress as a society, we must cast away this false idea of what “normal” is.

My internship at Abilities allowed me to focus on this issue and make a difference. During this time, I worked in business communications and helped students with their resumes and cover letters. I was able to advocate for the students and highlight the qualities that made them stand out as individuals. This internship helped me realize that I want to become a therapist to help people with their problems, along with becoming an activist who speaks up for people who feel like they do not have a voice. I am aware that attending therapy is stigmatized , so I want to create an environment where people feel safe and comfortable to fully express themselves. I hope to make people comfortable talking about a variety of topics so we can alleviate their frustrations together. Even if people do not want to talk about their problems, I will listen to their frustrations as a friend if they just need someone to talk to.

My last semester at Hofstra, I had to write a research project for the semester in my sociology class. I wrote about Islamophiobia and Syrian refugees. I became engrossed in the research. It touched my heart to point where my research was not just for school anymore. This research really opened my eyes to the struggles of Syrian refugees. During this semester, I discovered my passion for Syrian refugees. I become so attached and concerned about the wellbeing of Syrian refugees that I knew I must advocate for them and end this serious humanitarian crisis. This is especially true when I found that President Trump does not have any policies on Syria or the refugee crisis. I have continued to research the refugee crisis and how Islamophobia is strong barrier for innocent refugees. There is absolutely no reason for Americans to be afraid of Muslims who practice a peacefully. My research has inspired me to advocate for Syrian refugees as well as any group of people who cannot fight for themselves, and help individuals discover their inner power and amplify their voices so that they can communicate their experiences to the world. One of my major goals is to provide Syrian refugees with a platform to speak out about their personal experiences. I realize that I cannot stop all conflict, but at least as a counselor, I can use my voice to help people gain their voices and provide them the skills to advocate for themselves. My research on Syria refugees makes me want to advocate for them and become an ambassador for the United Nations idealistically. I want to help people and my extensive research on Syrian refugees makes me realize that I want to take action. Not only do I want to become a therapist to help people with their problems, but I also want to become an activist to advocate for people who feel like they are powerless. This advocating is not limited to people with disabilities, but all people who need a voice because society has muffled their sound with unfounded discrimination.  

I am eager to join the hunter university School of Social Work for several reasons. I believe the social work program can teach me the skills necessary to become a therapist , who allows people to understand themselves so that they can reach their full potential and influence others to do the same. I love writing so I also look forward to my research papers and my field ,placement. Hunter’s School of Social Work offers students the option to choose a specialization in a field of practice (FOP). My concentration will be Global Social Work and Practice with Immigrants and Refugees Rreform and Yyouth Sservices. I want to work in a diverse community that cares about Syrian refugees and is very passionate about helping people. At Hunters’ Silberman School of Social Work, I would like to become a counselor and make a difference in the world. I believe I can enable my future clients to be confident in their own respective identities, by using my own situation of having cerebral palsy as an example of how, regardless of your situation, it is possible to find your voice. By becoming a counselor I can make a difference in the world; by turning my individual problem into solutions that can create a path of advocacy for people who do not have a voice in. society. I plan

tration will be Global Social Work and Practice with Immigrants and Refugees reform and youth services. I want to work in a diverse community that cares about Syrian refugees and is veryis passionate about helping people. At Hunters’ Silberman School of Social Work, I would like to become a counselor and make a difference in the world. I believe I can enable my future clients to be confident in their own respective identities, by using my own situation of having cerebral palsy as an example of how, regardless of your situation, it is possible to find your voice. By becoming a counselor I can make a difference in the world; by turning my individual problem into solutions that can create a path of advocacy for people who do not have a voice in. society. I plan to create an environment that does not instill fear or any negative emotions in my clients because I want to allow people to have a space to talk freely without any judgment. As a therapist, I will teach my patients how to take advantage of their own abilities. As a result, my clients will learn to accept their own differences and embrace their unique identities and talents and thus embrace themselves. 

Golapi 14+

The dull green walls were littered with large posters of the labeled parts of the female reproductive system. It was definitely fitting for a patient room in an obstetrician office. I waited patiently in the rolling stool near the computer, mesmerized by the flitting images of greenery that played in a loop on the screen of the office computer. 

“Good morning, Mr. Chowdury. How are you doing? Where’s your wife?” asked Dr. Kassenoff without lifting her eyes from the stack of papers in her hands. Her body language was relaxed, but her face poorly masked her unease; it seemed as though she was trying her best to maintain her composure. That was enough to make me instantly swallow my questions. 

“Good morning, Dr. Kassenoff. I am good. I take her to her brother’s house before I come here,” I carefully exclaimed. I made sure that I stood up straight before doing so. “I thought that both of you would be present to hear the chorionic villus sampling test results,” Dr. Kassenoff said with a frown, rustling through her papers again. I said, “I can pick up the results and take it over to her brother’s house and tell her. You can tell me right now.” 

“That is fine, but I had firmly requested both of you to attend because the results came out positive for Down syndrome. I wanted to discuss the future steps,” Dr. Kassenoff said with her eyes now locked onto mine. She went on about the results, but I could only focus on her lips meeting and parting. I was struggling to stand any longer, so I fumbled for the stool. 

“Are you sure? The results can be false,” I managed to croak through the drying of my throat. She reaches towards me with the papers from her hand. The papers were an unusual pink color. Sickly and garish. A sore to the eyes. It didn’t look right contrasting with the green of the room.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Chowdury. They are correct for the majority of cases,” she replied. My heart dropped deep into my stomach, and I sank into the cushion of the stool. My silence was my only response. 

“I’ll give you a moment,” she whispered as she quietly made her way to the door. “No. I’m telling my wife now. I need to go home.” 

I waved her off, stood up with great difficulty. Even as I left the office, my arms were limp at my sides. Envelope in one hand and an open letter in the other. 

“Sir, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” A microphone blared from the booth of the train station. Red-faced and puffed up, the man looked right at me. I realized I swiped my MetroCard too slowly for the machine to read, but I was too dazed to even notice it. “I’m sorry,” I answered as I stumbled towards the train, going up to the platform. 

My awareness returned as I walked into the air-conditioned train cart. Quickly, I shoved the obnoxiously pink paper into the back pocket of my slacks. No one else should see the shame brought upon my family. 

I quickly plopped into the nearest seat. My elbows dug into my knees as my chin rested on my palms. How can I go home like this? What can I possibly say to her? Rubbing my eyes open, I realized I must have dozed off. A girl was pressing her pink toy into the curve of my fist. She had a flattened face, these slanted-up almond eyes, and a shorter than usual neck: all features I had noticed in the pamphlet about Down syndrome that Dr. Kassenoff had. What would be an otherwise endearing interaction, worsened my panic.

“This is —Ditmas Avenue,” announced the train conductor peering out of the front window. With my lungs still weak and struggling, I bolted out the train cart. Only then did I notice that the girl’s toy was still in my hand. Holding on the gum-strewn, wooden bench of the platform, I was struggling to breathe even more. 

As a simple taxi driver, my greatest aspiration was to leave the world with something that would make it better. Preferably with my name, but now, loke ki bolbe ? No one will see me in 1 the light again. Just imagine how difficult raising a child of such low mental capacity would be. 

Rokeya’s brother’s house was only 3 blocks from the stop, miraculously that’s where I got off. I reacted minimally to the excess pleasantries offered by my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. I was simply in a rush to take Rokeya home and tell her the news. She seemed happy playing with her nephews and had forgotten about the appointment entirely. But the sun was setting, and it couldn’t wait any longer. 

We returned home shortly, giving me enough time to think about my words carefully. I sat her down on the bed. 

“Rokeya, the results for the test were positive for Down syndrome,” I said reaching out with the pink slip. I stood as still as I could for her to absorb what I had just said. She couldn’t understand most words on that pink paper aside from “test” and “positive”, and that was enough for the tears to begin clouding up. 

“We should definitely abort this child, Rokeya. It’s too much responsibility. Does it look like we have the money to care for a child like this? We barely have money to get by,” I argued adamantly. 

1‘What will people say?’ (Bengali)

“I want this child. My firstborn. This child is a miracle. This is what Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta'ala willed upon me,” she hoarsely declared. Her cheeks glistened with tears, she balled up the pink slip in her left hand. Struggling to speak, her quiet whimpering turned into heavy sobs. 

“But you are not thinking rationally. I know how long we’ve come to get to this point, but we can’t possibly give him a good life. He won’t be happy,” my voice was rising. Am I supposed to pretend I can be a good father to this child? 

“Keeping this child is rational. Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta'ala has shown me in a dream that I would be receiving a light as a gift. The light was an unusual pink just like this paper,” Rokeya murmured. An uncomfortable silence followed, only to be broken with accusation. 

“You know what? You’re thinking of what people will say about our child. You’ve always been like this,” snapped Rokeya. With every word that she uttered, it became clear that she didn’t understand just how difficult it would be to rewrite the norms of society. 

“Are you done with your lecture? Because I didn’t bring you to this country for you to talk back to me and make decisions by yourself.” Slamming the door behind me, I sprinted down two flights of stairs and out onto the streets of New York. 

The sky paused between day and night, creating a rosy pink blotched by scattered bleach clouds. Taking a deep breath, I allowed what Rokeya spat in my face to run its course. I kept walking until I heard the crossing guard whistling at me to wait for the light. 

Arriving between Church and Mcdonald Avenue, I noticed the hordes of desi men huddled around the paan stands. And there stood the Greenhouse Restaurant. I refuse to go home

and eat food prepared by her. I admit, the food wasn't all that good, but I didn’t need good. I needed good enough. 

The doorbell tinged as I pushed nudged the door open and let myself in. Someone grabbed my shoulder. 

“Assalamualaikum , Kabir! It’s been so long, brother. How are you and sister-in-law?” 2 the man with a light stubble exclaimed. 

 It took me a few seconds, but I realized it was Dulal. Rokeya and I had met him and his wife while trying for a baby. It was comforting to see another couple who looked like they were going through the same things as us. 

“Wa’alaikum salam , Dulal. We’ve been well, alhamdulillah . How are you and your 3 4 wife? Is the baby on the way?” I asked a bit more obstinately than I had intended. His smile fell and his eyes drooped. 

“We’re still trying for a baby. How about you?” he responded. I didn’t want to tell him that we had a baby on the way. I mean I didn’t want Rokeya to give birth to a child we would not be able to raise. 

“Yeah. We’re in our first trimester, alhamdulillah,” I replied. I didn’t mean to compare our circumstances. His face slightly turned glum for a second before he brought it back to a smile and shook my hands in delight. 

“Masha’Allah, brother. Let me buy you some rosogollas in celebration,” he exclaimed. He surged forward to the counter, but the twinge of sorrow couldn’t be hidden from his voice. 

2‘Peace be upon you.” (Arabic) This is a general form of greeting between Muslims. 

3‘Peace be upon you, as well.” (Arabic) This is the reply to the phrase mentioned before. 4‘Praise to be to God’ (Arabic).

“You don’t have to do that for me! Let me buy you some since it is my child.” I pushed forward, and with a few rounds of back-and-forward banter, he gave in and I paid for our dinner. 

“Dulal, a friend of mine asked for some advice for this process. He was asking me if I would keep a baby if it was diagnosed with Down syndrome. I replied no immediately. It wouldn’t even be able to do things properly, might as well not make it suffer,” I rambled on without realizing I had given too much away. 

“Hold on a minute. Just wait. You would abort a child because you assume they won’t live up to your standards?” he interjected, his spoon-clad hand frozen in mid-air as he stared at me in disbelief. 

“Yes. They won’t be able to look after me or even look after themselves after I pass. What would the community say? Oh, Kabir’s son is sick and they knew that before giving birth, but still brought the child into this world. It’s an embarrassment,” I huffed in a single breath. It got difficult to breathe again. The customers sitting next to us were starting to stare in curiosity. I buried my face in my hands. 

“It’s alright, Kabir. I just want you to tell your friend that he should consider keeping his child because it will all be okay in the end, in shaa Allah . Nowadays, there are many 5 opportunities for a person with Down syndrome. They are able to work at jobs and be self-sufficient. Fate will take over, regardless of your standards." He softly urged while placing his hand on my shoulder. He understood. 

5‘God-willing’ (Arabic)

It was getting late, so we decided to part ways before it got too dark outside. As I advanced towards my apartment building, I felt something tug on the fabric of my pants. It was difficult to see what was holding me back because the streetlight right above my head appeared 

to be broken. I fumbled around in my jacket’s pockets for my phone, only to feel a small flashlight in my left one. I took a sharp intake of air before shining the light near my leg. To my relief, it was just the pointy edge of a tree guard. That was when I held the flashlight up to the moonlight. 

It was the toy that the girl from the train pressed into my hands. The metal body of the mini flashlight itself was pink. Oddly enough, the light beaming from the flashlight itself was the shade of pink comparable to that of the result paper itself. 

The sun peeked over the many clouds in the sky, I stepped out of my apartment building. I zipped up my coat as I proceeded down the familiar intersection of the avenues. I was headed for the nearby park to get some fresh air before running the many errands I had reserved that day. As I slipped through the gates that were left ajar, I found myself enveloped in the stillness that surrounded the park. It was too early for anyone to be at the park anyway. I chose to sit on the bench in the center of the park; on a cold day like this, I decided to bask in the little sunlight that was offered. Legs crossed and hands in my pocket, my eyes followed the twists and bends of the metal jungle gym. 

“Afra! Don’t ride your tricycle into the park! We have places to go!” a voice called from the entrance of the park, getting closer by the second. I instinctively turned around to see who it was at this early hour of the day.

“Mommy, I go play now?” A different, more high-pitched voice pleaded. It wasn’t long before the owners of the two voices arose from the shrubbery that was blocking my view of them. It was a girl around the age of three with a sparkling, pink bow in her hair on a sparkling, pink tricycle racing ahead onto the rubber flooring of the park and her mother chasing after her. She was unusually fast, but that was not what drew me to her. Her slanted-up almond eyes seemed a little too familiar when she looked into my eyes. 

It was the girl from the train two months ago. 

I frantically searched all of my pockets to reassure myself that I had brought the flashlight with me today. Rest assured, it was snug in the left pocket of my slacks. I always brought it with me, but now I don't need it anymore. 

The little girl’s mother had just caught up to her and began to gently reprimand her for the chase that she caused. The girl didn’t seem to be listening, though. She was intently observing me making my way to them. Her mother soon mirrored the girl’s gaze as I got closer. “Hello, do you need anything?” interrogated the mother with alarm. 

“I just want to say thank you for giving this to me that day. I’m stronger now and you can have it back.” I responded as an answer to her question, trying my best to speak in proper English. But it was an answer for the girl who intriguingly peered at the pink flashlight that I was now handing to her. 

She smiled knowingly.

Written Statement 

As a creative person, I enjoy associating things with color to envision its true essence. In Golapi Alo, it was exciting for me to be able to put knack of mine into use for the purpose of the audience to understand the shifts of mood in my piece in a greater sense. I decided to showcase my individuality through the title of the piece itself, which means “Pink Light” in Bengali (my native tongue). I thought it would be interesting to intertwine my love of seeing the world more colorfully, and my identity as a Bengali-American to come about the title. This culture of “loke ki bolbe” which means “what will people say” inspired this piece because it is so often that desi uncles and aunties perpetuated this system. Hence, they are the ones who are villainized for maintaining the existence of this practice of giving relevance to societal standards. Therefore, I wanted to paint a scenario in which the audience is able to empathize with the “classic brown uncle” in terms of how the system was formulated in the first place. This system, itself, is clearly not a tangible structure, but rather a mental and cultural construct used to make people feel inferior to the standards of the community. 

To begin, the different gradients of the color pink is used to both signify the unborn child and the intensity of the emotions experienced by the narrator throughout the story. The color pink first makes its appearance in the story, when it clashes with the green room to indicate that the slow dispersion of pink into the narrator’s green life is what begins to muddle everything. The choice of color was important because pink and green are complementary colors, which mix to make a brown that correlates to the feelings of bewilderment he endured at the moment. The concept of light is introduced later in the passage by Rokeya, the narrator’s wife, through the proclamation of a dream. In her dream, the light is of the same pink color, further explaining that

the pink light represents the child. The flashlight that is given to the narrator in his state of confusion and detachment from reality alludes to a higher power that would be watching to make sure that everything that would occur would occur for the betterment of his future. The flashlight is purposely used as the toy that the girl gives to the character to draw a connection between Rokeya’s dream and Allah (SWT)’s protection of his fate. On that note, the audience comes to know that the girl’s name is Afra, which also has importance to the overall story. Afra is a name of Arabic origin meaning “whitish red”, showing that she was chosen to be the vessel of the message because she also has Down syndrome and her name literally translates to the word ‘pink’. Lastly, the narrator’s broken english, seen in his conversation with the obstetrician is a stylistic choice to show that the narrator is not fluent in English because the conversation is between him and an English speaker. However, the rest of his inner thoughts and dialogue follow the rules of English grammar and conventions because it is supposed to show the distinction between his comfort speaking English and Bengali. This distinction was necessary to accentuate the fact his speech reflects his conflict with the Western culture of being indifferent to what others think. 

Throughout Golapi Alo, I attempted to capture how holding premature standards for how our lives should be led can cause us to forget that we all have a certain destiny that we cannot change regardless. Trusting the process, especially when being faced with a test of faith, is difficult because we feel unguided. It is even more difficult when the whole community is watching our supposed downfall and creating premonitions of us based upon one publicized event in our life. However, Allah (SWT) always manages to bring us closer to Him in insta

nces that we cannot even fathom because it is part of the unforeseeable future. Likewise, Kabir