Read "Our Impossible Love" by Durjoy Datta available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get RS. off your first purchase. Life teaches us what 'love' truly. Where can I get the PDF of the book “The Girl of My Dreams” by Durjoy Datta? Where can I download the PDF for the book 'If It's Not Forever' by Durjoy Datta? Where can I get the free PDF of the novel boy who loved?. OUR IMPOSSIBLE LOVE Someone Like You; Hold My Hand; When Only Love Remains; World's Best Boyfriend Ebook Downloaded From cheap-diet-pills-online.info
|Language:||English, Spanish, Arabic|
|Genre:||Children & Youth|
|ePub File Size:||23.37 MB|
|PDF File Size:||14.56 MB|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
10/02/ Our Impossible Love by Durjoy Dutta PDF, EPUB & MOBI Free Ebook Download | EBOOK4IN. Our Impossible Love is a story of Danish Roy and Aisha Paul, both different in you can download this pdf Our Impossible Love – Durjoy Datta. Editorial Reviews. Review. When u pick your favorite author's book. You can expect like it will Romance Kindle eBooks @ cheap-diet-pills-online.info Download.
Not in India? Choose your country's store to see books available for purchase. Random Acts of Fantasy Random Book 3. Julia Kent. Handle with Care. Josephine Myles. Almost Fabulous.
You are commenting using your Google account. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email. Skip to content April 16, storiesofalifetimeweb. Share this: Twitter Facebook. Robbie Webb. Terminal Cancer.
David Manoa. Himanshu Chate. All the Right Reasons. Bec Rumble.
Hucow Helen. Kelly Addams. Electric, The Series Finale, Book 6. Carly Compass. Kingdoms in Newness. G Haritharan. Words from a Second-hand Heart. A Sword Called Rhonda. Deirdre Saoirse Moen. Ira Oberoi's Pursuit of Love. Niti Chopra. Dirty Drama: Bradford Middleton. Khyati Kohli. Swear You Won't Tell? Vedashree Khambete-Sharma. A Teenager's Dilemma: Part 1.
Rony Mehta. Ian Woodhead. Sarnath Banerjee. When Only Love Remains. Durjoy Datta. The Boy Who Loved. The World's Best Boyfriend. You Were My Crush. Till the Last Breath. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long. Too many limbs. Not enough head. I transferred them into my pocket before we left the car.
[PDF] Our Impossible Love - Durjoy Datta - Free Download PDF
Before I could be sued for sexual harassment and be an even bigger embarrassment to my brother and my family. Bet you can fit two of those in though. I plonked myself on the bar stool. Drunk and totally out of my wits.
He had ordered a cab. Do you want to sign up? I could see a girl in his arms. I know this because my head bumped into tables twice but I was too hammered to regain control of my limbs.
The party was the fakest thing I had ever been to. In my blurry. Three hours and four hundred drinks later. Like a true unemployed person. Before we left for the party. I was a paralysed octopus. The boys were now looking at us while dragging on their cigarettes.
Suddenly put into a protective role. Be okay. Why should we go inside? They should get into their car and leave. She thought I was joking. They are drunken men. Because they are drunken men and they can do anything! As we waited on. But I was scared shit. I started it when I was nineteen.
If something happens. He thinks if anything happens to me it would be my fault and not theirs. They could rip me apart limb by limb and take this girl away. I told the girl. Seemed like a perfect waste of a good buzz but I sipped at it. She refused to budge. She will be with you. I want to live. Suddenly she turned dove-like and fluttered near my brother. That must have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me in the longest time.
My feet were bolted to the ground and I shrieked like a little kitten on seeing my brother getting smashed. And before I could make sense of what was happening. I gathered my senses and got into the thick of things. He dragged me through the front gate of our house. He asked me to go inside. Go help your brother! Can you believe it? How do you stand him? The last thing I remember was following the last seconds of the trajectory of a head of a hockey stick coming in my direction.
The girl came running to me and pulled my arm and pushed me towards the battlefield. I could tell. This was my spot in the limelight. It had reached him that morning.
He lied to us. He had that look on his face I have so clearly etched in my memory. I will not have you sitting at home being a burden on this family. He knew I had failed. Get it? He threw the envelope on my face. He lied to you! He walked away and slammed the door behind him.
Then probably seeing his spawn drunk and bleeding evoked pity in his cold heart. He must have been struggling with his own adolescent sexuality. She kneads them like dough every morning.
Aisha uses a massage oil that gets them really big. She has ugly nipples. I knew it was hard for him. It started when the boob gods started being benevolent on me and gave me a 34B when they should have stopped at something like a 32A. We were quite thick before my damn boobs grew out. Even Megha wrote in her diary which I chanced upon I was surprised she wrote one: Aisha is not even pretty! And her pimples. No one cared about my unwaxed legs.
Oh God. If he were not the nicest person in the world. Sample these rumours: Aisha and an eleventh grader were behind a dumpster and he had his hands up her shirt. It was sweet of Sarthak to never confront me. All she has are her boobs. A friend sucked on them.
Sometimes she gets boys to do it! Aisha is quite the nymphomaniac. It was like he was standing at the junction of a forked road for people who had to decide whether to be an introvert or an extrovert. If only I had been a boy. Of course. To top that. Her boobs might be big but they have ugly moles on them. He chose the former because people kept reminding him of a sister who had boobs. Every time a rumour cropped up. Poor boy went through hell and back for me. I know them and I talk to them but they are not really my friends friends.
When we got on to the bus. Just what a girl needs from her big brother. I had never seen him hang out with people. You deserve a better brother.
Our Impossible Love - Durjoy Datta
Did you. He knew everything. I obliged and let him walk away into the crowd. Where did you hear that? I got away from my friends for a change and sat next to him on the last seat. Who told you. We waited for the bus together that day. He would have known that if he knew me better. The boys in my class are taking bets about who will be the next one who sleeps with you!
He stood away from me. He flinched. Grabbing my bag from my seat. I ran after him to get my answer. His cycle had broken down.
We are going to this new pub and a movie afterwards. Why do I even talk to her? Then why did people find some way to ruin it all for me? The last time I had truly laughed with my brother was when I was in the seventh standard and a new school year was about to begin.
Your nether region is like an archery target. I rolled my eyes at the poor. We spent hours laughing that night as we wrapped our copies with brown papers. I forgot to tell you! I have a date with Dhruv today after school. She had taken my copy but her parents got hold of it. They asked her never to talk to me. Usually we stuck to pencils and gel pens. You have to be totally precise! I think I will stay quiet. How can you allow him to do so? I sat through mathematics and physics and chemistry and English thinking if I were at fault.
They should have been my little high points in life. The stoner. Along with me were three boys—one was caught smoking weed. I was the last one in the line. So are you going to deny it?
Stop doing it? He might begin to date me after all. But I felt shamefully proud when I was shown my room which had a top-of-the-line Mac desktop. A firm. Your father told me you have quite a lot of experience working with young people. But there was no way I was getting through this sober. Anyone with an elementary level education would know why this was such a bad decision. The first boy was Aryan. Harry Potter glasses walked in with his gaptoothed. At least there was hope when I was young. Coming back to a school may flood some with nostalgia but to me it felt like someone had thrust an umbrella up my ass and opened it.
There were already four students waiting outside whom I had to counsel. I kind of expected that a rich boy would waltz in. The principal met me at the reception. His confidence in me gave me nausea. I made a quick stop at the local liquor store and picked up a bottle of white wine and drained it into a bottle of Sprite.
Every time he would stop complaining about something I asked him if there was something else he would like to talk about. All I had to do was listen and make them talk.
This girl was. In thirty minutes. Then the second kid came in. These were smart kids who knew what they were doing. I nodded. He used words which were expected from an investment banker going through a nervous breakdown. When I was seventeen. The Sprite bottle lay untouched.
A pall of silence fell between us. You should be nervous. I called the next kid in. It was a cry for help. There were times when I wanted to jump out of my seat and tell them how I felt the exact same things when I was growing up. What a comeback! I had been scared for no reason. Then why did the principal call me out? I asked. Do you want to tell me yourself? Megha is going out with a guy.
But he will try to get his hands under her skirt. A kid! The principal thought I have started having sex with people. What right did she have to be so straightforward and. I came up with a question which seemed most appropriate and I said it in my most serious voice.
She was seventeen. You will set me right. And we hardly ever talk.
Every boy does it. Like why is it a compulsive habit? She was screwing with me. To talk to you. She continued. Sometimes he spends too much time in the washroom. The boy outside? He told me he does it too. Also because I have to file this report.
And just then. That man-child in that counselling room was cute! I would have shared this important piece of information with Megha had she bothered to breathe in between her hour-long-minute-by-minute report of her boring but safe date with the boy. It was the best thing ever! Does he wear a bracelet as well? Middle-parted long hair? Was he cute? How was her date more important than my therapy session?
So tell me, was he cute? Arjun Kapoor! So does he look like him? I had straightaway, like everyone else in school, had put him in a little box—cute—and nothing else mattered.
He would now be cute forever. Not necessarily a bad thing, but you might just lose a brother because of it. Who defines what cute is anyway? What if he wants to be something else? What if he wants smaller breasts? It can hurt them. Have you thought about people who are not cute? You always judge people by how they look. But what about those whom I had already judged, and put into little boxes with no holes? Were they still breathing? Over the years, I had been on the receiving end of many vicious rumours.
But none worse than Namrata, that nice, intelligent girl in my class. I needed to talk to Danish about this. This counsellor was already working for me. My mother served paneer and rice that night. I told her about the counselling session.
Just like that. How did she know that I had enquired about his motivation to wank? He has some assignments to complete. Scored more than you in SST and science? How many tantrums you threw in those days!
My mother had spent the entire night putting the torn pages in order and then stapling them together. I was inappropriately happy on the second day of my new job. The first day had gone off smoothly, apart from that one moment where the girl, Aisha, made me want to crawl beneath the desk and stay there for a really long time. Today, will be better, I told myself. Last night, I had spent a few hours on the Internet and read up manuals on how to tackle sexual queries from young people without making an utter fool of myself.
My highlighted notes lay securely in my duffle bag. All I needed was a little revision and I would whoop some ass today. I reached on time and found Aisha waiting on the bench. I can do that, right? Calm down. You can do this, Danish.
Just be confident and straightforward. I placed my pad on the desk and found myself fixing my hair in the reflection of my computer screen. Now why would I do that? But before I could tell her that I found you cute, she told me the entire college had started calling you cute.
This was the best day of my life.
What if they were half a decade younger than I was? The best I could do is to try to move past it. And that can be sort of a good thing and a bad thing.
A nice. And can you tell me what really happened? Or like what do you expect out of him? What if there was a rumour that a student committed suicide just after he attended your session? Now there might be no correlation between your cuteness and the student taking his life but then everything you did before or will do after that would be looked through that lens of you being cute.
But I will also forgive you if you do something to undo it. And those two things have nothing to do with each other! You can leave now. We talked about her old school.
I was pretty mean to some people and one of them was Namrata. But this girl had rained on my parade. She was a nice girl and even liked Room on the Roof. It faded away slowly as rumours of my non-existent promiscuity started making the rounds.
I found Namrata changing in the washroom. Years ago. I had quite a time. I was doing well in my studies. My dizzying fame was slipping like sand through a closed fist.
Though I should probably mention here that I. I was poor and my mother was dying but at least I had the school by its balls. I could spread gossip through my influence on the girls who hung out with me. I knew her schedule. Everyone talked about me. She was the first one to enter and leave every class. Late one afternoon. She was a new student on a full scholarship in our school. She made it to the dramatics team and the shot-put team and charmed everyone.
Since my voice could not be heard. I slyly recorded a video of her changing into her uniform. She missed school for a month. I would always sidestep whenever I saw her walking in the corridors. And now. Those are ugly! I knew what I had done to her. The video never got out of the school or Namrata and I both would have been in trouble. When she finally showed up that day. I had to make amends. No more labelling people on how they looked. It had been four years.
I heard she got kicked out from the last school because she slept with someone in the classroom. I knew I had destroyed her when I passed on that video and firmly tagged her as a fat. I would rather claw my eyes out than see that. So while she talked and laughed. No more tags. She was the ugly. Clearly time was lazy! Namrata was changing in front of a boy! Such a slut! I shirked and shifted the blame on to her. Namrata never confronted me. She should stop eating men for lunch.
Someone else had added. The funny girl had cradled her breasts and said. I need to talk to you. I walked up to her. I recalled the face of my mother as she lay in that pool of blood. I ran after her. And the next second my face stung with a resounding slap. That and much more. People stopped in the corridor and stared.
It took me years to be happy again. I stumbled backwards and lost my hearing for a few seconds. She deserved to be in the shot-put team. I had almost killed myself because of you! She had made her way through the crowd by the time the tinny sound in my ears abated. I hate you!
Quite strange actually, all we got in our school were slaps from our teachers. Good memories. Thank you for reminding me. I tried to feel happy for my brother but all I felt was envy piercing through my veins. I started to calculate how much it would have cost him, how much he must be earning, and how many years, if not lifetimes, it would take me to have the same car sitting in my driveway. Will I ever have a driveway? I forced a smile. I thought about money a lot those days.
My brother was successful, a paper millionaire, and would be rich for the rest of his life and beyond. I thought about this a lot. He dropped me to school and wished me luck for the day. As he looked at the school while driving away to his meetings held in glass cabins inside buildings that rose up to the clouds, I wondered what he thought of his big brother.
I unlocked the door and took my seat. You can make her forgive me. Unless she forgives me, how will I be the woman I want to be! She waited for it to stop before she spoke again.
Mr Sharma will mark me absent even if I am a minute late. Frankly, the essays were a whole lot of bullshit. So I got up and started to look for Namrata in the school records. A bit like a dictator. I liked that. I called for Namrata. I had a book in my hand, a thick one which I had picked up moments before Namrata had walked in, to look smart and knowledgeable, so she would take me seriously.
Never had people been nervous in front of me. It was always the other way around. Even salespeople in stores and fast food joints made me anxious. Do you know her? She clutched the sides of her chair as if trying to grind them to dust. Remember how he asked Potter to let Pettigrew go? Aisha is like Bellatrix Lestrange!
She killed Dobby! In my history of dealing with people like her I have noticed that a single apology from someone they have wronged goes a long way in helping them become better people. She destroyed me!