রুকি থেকে তাণ্ডব কাপ बিজয়ী: मेरा CrashTrenBall-এ की यात्रा

আমি ভাবতাম, ‘জয়’টা ভাগ্য -এর।
তবে সময়-ই (Timing) -ই;
‘জাম্প’-এর *পর*ও,
*আগে*ও –
ফাঁকটা –
হৃদযন্ত্রটা-ই

আমি লহোর/অলিম্পস্‌-এর দখলদার?
না। চিকাগো–এ,
খিলখিলেছিল—

Jazz!

Coffee-stained journal + late-night code = CrashTrenBall–এ “Digitally Storm”

🌀 ‘প্রথম Curve’ — Fear? No. Reverence!

First tap → no clue. Just momentum. Like stepping on a moving train. Then… Curve. Heart tightens. Wait — this isn’t gambling. This is ritual. Surrender = win. The moment you let go… at the right second.

💸 Budget as Ritual: Discipline = Poetry

Creative burnout? Chaos? So I said: Max $10 per session. Enough for two coffees or one meal out. Not profit. For presence. The real prize? Clarity after each round ends. Not money — peace.

🌩️ Sacred Games: Thunder Track & Starfire Sprint

Thunder Track? Like lightning in mid-strike — sharp, brief, beautiful. A memory you can’t hold but still carry. Starfire Sprint? During holidays — a drumbeat through digital temples built for joy. The games aren’t games. They are moments carved from time where joy is allowed to exist without apology.

🌙 The Real Secret: Self-Compassion (Not Strategy)

The winter I lost three times in a row (even artists get burned), I almost quit… till I realized:

What if loss isn’t failure—but data? The curve didn’t lie; my reaction did. The truth? Victory ≠ rupees or rewards. It’s peace carried back into life after playing. The best advice? Enter only when ready—not for money or distraction—but because you want to dance with uncertainty under moonlight (or streetlamp glow). The game doesn’t give meaning—it reveals it, sometimes only after you’ve stopped searching, done jumping, closed your eyes, stayed silent, one breath at a time.