tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66062261752526720562024-03-13T06:40:50.079+05:30And I writeBits of things that make an impressionAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-25387792103149302032013-06-05T14:12:00.001+05:302013-06-05T14:12:20.017+05:30Her mischievous grin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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He was sitting in his car admiring the river flow by ahead of him. He didn’t know when he had stopped by the bridge, or for how long had he been staring at the river. The river with all of its calm flow and huge size seemed serene. He smiled, and pulled the car out in reverse before taking it to the main road. In just a few moments he had driven over the bridge and then took the right turn as he approached it. It would take him towards the mall where he had planned to watch a movie with her.</div>
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Her. Her, is where his brain would stop working on other things for a moment and just think about her. Her. He tried to take his mind of her for a while since he was driving. It was as empty road ahead except for the odd car or two far away. Since such empty roads were hard to come by at such times, he made good use of them and reached the mall much earlier than he had thought. After parking the car outside, he went towards the ticket counter to collect the tickets. He had already booked the tickets online and just showed the sms before signing on the receipt and taking his tickets.</div>
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Before he could wonder about what to do next, he could make out a white car coming towards the mall. It looked like her car from afar. As the car came closer it did not turn towards the mall parking but kept going on the road ahead. He shrugged and walked towards the coffee shop. He opened the door and walked towards his favorite spot near the glass pane. It was a wonderful spot as one could see the roads outside, and smell the aroma of the coffee coming from the coffee machine nearby. There was no lingering aroma today though but the barista was busy making something. He signaled for his usual to be brought to him. He calmly sipped his coffee and waited for her to arrive while lost in his thoughts.</div>
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A few moments later he could see her coming out of the parking. He walked into the atrium towards her signaling for her with a wave. She was talking on her cell but nodded her head after seeing him wave. His mind began to focus on her again. This time he was looking at her lips move such effortlessly as she spoke and felt that he could just stand there and watch her talk for long and admire the motion of her lips. He began to feel an urge to kiss her.</div>
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‘Not like this,’ he thought ‘tell her about it first. Tell her what she makes you feel.’</div>
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“Did I make you wait for long?”</div>
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“Nope not much, got here early enough to have a coffee though. Let’s go.”</div>
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He walked ahead but she didn’t walk with him, and just stood there with a smile on her face. He went back and tried to pull her by her hand. He tried to, but his hand just passed through. He didn’t realize it at first and tried to pull her hand, but it passed through again. He had a look of wonder on his face, as he looked up at her face. She had a mischievous grin on her face now. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and tried to pull her hand again. As his hand passed through hers, she disappeared in a puff of smoke. He stood there, shocked.</div>
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“Come on Rahul, aren’t we getting late?” She called him with the same impish grin and a wave. She was now standing behind him.</div>
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“What are you doing?” He tried to touch her waving hand again, but the moment he touched it she disappeared in smoke again.</div>
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“What happened Rahul? Why aren’t you coming?” and she appeared to his right.</div>
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This time she didn’t wait for him to touch her but disappeared again as soon as he turned.</div>
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Rahul didn’t know how to react as she kept coming and disappearing in clouds of smoke all around the atrium. His eyes just kept following her eyes. Her eyes that were full of mischief.</div>
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“Get up.”</div>
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“HHmnmnmn”, he grunted.</div>
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“Get up, I need to put this sheet away for washing.”</div>
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He turned around to see his mom come in to focus. He took a moment to check his surroundings. He was in his bed and his mother was pulling the sheet off. It had all been a dream. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed wondering about this dream. While his mom was talking something about the sheet, he was still under shock from what had happened in this dream. He didn’t collect anything of what was being told but just nodded before going to the bathroom. He had a nice long cold shower while he tried not to think about the dream. He quietly had his breakfast and kissed his mom on the forehead before leaving for the movie. He told her that since he was going for a movie, he wouldn’t be coming home for lunch.</div>
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He took out his car and drove towards the mall. Had it not been for the traffic that was normal for this hour, he would have been there earlier. He parked his car, and slowly walked towards the ticket counter. She was already standing there waiting for him. He collected the tickets before walking towards her. She was smiling at him. Just a regular smile at seeing someone familiar and quite unlike the grin he dreamt of. They hugged when he came close, and he held on to her for a moment longer than he normally would.</div>
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He wanted to tell her about the dream, and what he felt about her. He tried to reassure himself that she was real in that extra moment with her. But instead he just felt afraid.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-38503361267883889032013-06-05T14:09:00.001+05:302013-06-05T14:10:36.008+05:30A Hug Award/Tag<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It’s been a long time since someone tagged me for a blog. <a href="http://vishalbheeroo.wordpress.com/2013/05/23/its-raining-awards-an-ode-to-soumya/" target="_blank">Since this comes from a blogger whose posts I enjoy reading</a>, I am having an early go at it. So this is also me saying a thank you to Vishal for his hug to me.<br />
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<b>The questions are as follows:</b>
<b> </b><br />
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<strong>1. What is the meaning of life?</strong>
In simple terms, I believe that the meaning of life is to exist and be happy with it.<br />
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<strong>2. Happiness is all about?</strong>
Happiness has always meant different things at different times. When I was very young, it meant having a bowl of Maggi (which stands true to this day as well). As I grew older it meant getting good marks in the school tests, and later it meant being able to play cricket without making an ass out of myself. At one time it meant being able to finish all of school work and get to snuggle with any of the Harry Potter books (which to this day makes my mum roll her eyes). Gradually it meant more things, like receiving a Google chat ping from a particular someone, making a presentation at work, and being at Barista with friends and chatting away. Right now happiness means to go through the day without having to shrug something off and cooking a new dish.<br />
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<strong>3. Why did you start a blog?</strong>
I felt the urge to write. I had once maintained a collection of the short stories and poems I had written in a book that I misplaced, so I took to online logs. I came to know of blogging where I could not only write, but read things other people wrote. Soon, it became a box of wonders and happiness.<br />
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<strong>4. What is more important in your life relationships or fame?</strong>
I will be honest here, I do enjoy fame. Ever since I was young, fame in the school or later in college and now work. I like to be famous, to be known for the things that I do or can do. However fame from people I do not know can bring only a temporary joy. Hence if you ask to me think over it, I will choose relationships. One may not have loads of fame, but if you have good relationships then it will be all worthwhile.<br />
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<strong>5. One thing which you like the most about blogging?</strong>
The people I come to know. Many of my friends, people on FB, are there because I came to know of them through blogging. Some of you are just awesome people, and should take a bow. Some of you are people whom I have not yet met in person, but I know about your life through what you share with me on the blogs and Facebook.<br />
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<strong>6. What’s the best decision you ever made?</strong>
Buying capris. India can get hot many times, and Capris are a welcome relief for me. I would wear them throughout the year had it not been for the chilly winds in mid-winter that travel up them and try to freeze my privates. Seriously speaking though, they are so comfortable.<br />
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<strong>7. Do you believe that unconditional love really exists in any kind of relationship?</strong>
No. Love cannot be unconditional. Sometimes we think that love is unconditional when the person being loved does all sorts of things that the lover may not like or would pain them, but the lover still continues to love them. That is not unconditional love that just means that the object/person of their love still means a lot to them. They would gladly go through that pain because they still value their love (or are flipping idiots to stay in an abusive relationship)<br />
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<strong>8. What would be your first reaction if your physician recommends you to see a psychologist?</strong>
Hain?! Yup, that is what I would say. Of course it would be interest me to all sorts of levels to understand why my physician thinks that I must visit a psychologist, and more so of inputs the psychologist would give me. I would want to get a second opinion of a different psychologist and see what they say as well.<br />
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<strong>9. Do you believe in Karma, if yes then what are bad and good karma according to you?</strong>
Yes. Karma is nothing but what you do and allow to happen. People around us see what we do and allow to happen, and take that as to what we are ok with. They in turn do the same to us. Sometimes karma can come from intentions as well as from results of our actions. I may intend for something bad to happen for a person, but my acts can lead to something good happening for them (or the other way around).<br />
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<strong>10. Do you believe in rebirth or afterlife if yes then why?</strong>
I have stopped trying to actively think about it. I am in no way qualified or of expertise to comment on this, since I don’t know anyone who has come been reborn or is in afterlife. What if afterlife doesn’t have a way for us to communicate with them? What if afterlife is the things we imagine as fiction? What if once we die, we just die and cease to exist while only a select few of us get an afterlife? What if there is not afterlife? So this is only a ‘what if?’ and loads of questions to think about for me.<br />
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<strong>11. What is the best moment of your life?</strong>
It is difficult to zero in on one particular moment, as there have been many such moments for me (and are for everyone). However if I think about it, then the one best moment of my life is when I began to think for myself. I don’t know when that moment came for me and when it is for you, but there is a moment from which you can think for yourself. You can think that what is right and wrong, what can or does make you feel happy or sad. The moment when you know can want a particular thing, when you can express desire. When you can be the ‘I’ in ‘I am’, it is that moment that I speak of.<br />
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As per the tag, I nominate this tag/hug to few people. I may miss some of you guys, but these are the people that come to my mind for this right now:<br />
<a href="http://shailsnest.com/" target="_blank">Shail Di</a><br />
<a href="http://ushus.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Ushu</a><br />
<a href="http://hitchwriter.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Hitchy/Supremo</a><br />
<a href="http://priyankazneverland.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ms. Dey</a><br />
<a href="http://rinzurajan.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rinzu</a><br />
<a href="http://mytakeoneverything9.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Pixie</a><br />
<a href="http://anonymouslydisguised.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Cracking Saks (who is as of now on an indefinite blog composing hibernation)</a><br />
<a href="http://phoenixritu.com/" target="_blank">Ritu</a><br />
<a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">IHM</a><br />
<a href="http://readingthroughrsmind.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">R's Mom</a><br />
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If you’re reading this and want to do this (tagged or not), please let me know of the link so that I can connect it to this post.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-4914445435685301172013-06-05T14:06:00.002+05:302013-06-05T14:06:33.338+05:30Will you marry me?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dearest,</div>
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When one thinks of marriage and all the ceremonies that are associated with it, one can traditionally come up with images of gatherings of friends and family. The ceremonies beforehand, new clothes, festivities, the 7 rounds about the fire as the priest chants or the bride in a bright white gown with the groom in a black suit as the minister declares them man and wife and so on. The reception after that with the wedded couple on the stage as people take turns to wish them and pose for a photograph with the gifts they carry, and everyone smiling all around. It is indeed a wonderful sight to imagine with you in a sari and me in a sherwani.</div>
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Except, that it is not why and how I would want to marry you. I want you for how you are in your everyday. Yes, we will look better in our wedding dresses, having selected what to wear after careful choosing and scrutiny, with many man hours of effort in making us look better than we normally do. But, people don’t appreciate the effort in the everyday as much as I do. How you effortlessly carry off your daily sense of wearing. You don’t wear a sari in your everyday, but have you looked at yourself when you wear your daily clothes? Of course you have, but you haven’t looked at yourself from my eyes. There is a sense of awe I feel when I look at you in your everyday because in it your apparent effortlessness tries to hide the effort of the day to day. I find a trace of accomplishment in you that comes with being comfortable in one’s skin. When I say I want to marry you, it is this you that I want to marry. It is not the marriage of the sari clad and the sherwani clad that interests me, but that of you in your jeans and tee and me in my capris and shirt.</div>
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I understand wanting to celebrate it with our friends and family as one does at all occasions. I however, at times feel that marriage ceremonies are mostly like societal approval. I don’t want their consent to marry you, I want yours. I want to celebrate being together with you first, and friends and family later. I don’t think that my vows to you will be any more sacred with the holy fire as witness will be any more sacred than the ones I make to you when we’re alone in person. I never have believed, that having a fire or holy chants while we take our vows make our relation any stronger. It is the efforts that we put in the everyday that will make or break it, not the seven rounds we take around the holy fire as people shower us with flower petals and our parents get teary eyed. I definitely want to get a legal marriage certificate, as that would enable me to extend benefits like insurance and other things to you as it serves an advantage in my eyes.</div>
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So yes, if you want to celebrate with a large wedding then we will have that done. But marry me before you do in front of the rest of world. Let what it means to be ours, before it is so theirs.</div>
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My dearest, will you marry me?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-13225384802194346692013-06-05T14:05:00.003+05:302013-06-05T14:05:36.272+05:30We respect husbands more than wives<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The term ‘you’ is a universal term in the English language in the sense that you can use it independently of the person’s sex, age, position, etc. You may be calling out a boy or a girl, your boss or your subordinate; it is still ‘you’. This however, is not the case when it comes to Hindi. In Hindi there are two different terms, namely ‘Tu’ and ‘Aap’. ‘Tu’ is used when addressing some one of the same age/position as yourself or lower while ‘Aap’ is used for someone who is older and/or commands respect.<br />
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Long time ago I was watching a movie with mom when the lead character while talking to his mother, addressed her as ‘Tu’. I began to take notice of this and observed that in many cases the father would be addressed as ‘Aap’ while the mother was addressed as ‘Tu’. This had me totally miffed, and I asked mom why it was acceptable to address the father with more respect than the mother as both are equally parents to a child and cheekily asked if I should be calling her ‘Tu’ now. She thought over it a bit and said that because kids bond over more with their mom while they are bring brought up instead of dad, they think of mom as a friend and confidante and hence address her as ‘Tu’.<br />
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I raised a brow in apprehension and asked her what about the families where kids bond with their dads too, and consider him as friends. To that we don’t have an answer. In fact kids don’t bond with dad so much<a href="http://shailsnest.com/2010/07/13/why-is-it-called-mother-tongue/" target="_blank"> (because the dad is away due to work or other reasons such as resting after being back from Over time , social activities, etc.)</a> he is more of a distant character. As one never gets to have as free a hand with him as mom, and must <i>behave</i> in his presence to not disturb him, he commands more respect and gets addressed as ‘Aap’. Which is also why you will have many people who refer to their moms as Ma, mom, etc, but refer to their dad as Pita<em>ji, </em>Babu<em>ji,</em> and so on with the <em>ji</em> being added to convey respect.<br />
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This however is not just the matter of kids addressing their parents but a matter of the dynamics of a man and woman in a relationship. I have seen couples call each other ‘Tu’ before marriage and have the girl shift to calling the guy ‘Aap’ post marriage. Many a times he doesn’t have to ask to be called so, but the wife calls him so by default. In the event that she calls him ‘Tu’ as an equal (because horror of horrors, a wife and husband are to be equal in their relationship), someone from the family or friends will take her aside and go “HAAAWWW!! You should call your husband Aap, show some respect.”<br />
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You get many people who tell the wife to show the husband respect. Show some respect, yes, but why should she not be respected as well?<br />
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For those of you who are wondering, I still call address mom with an 'Aap'</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-91919085680818757942013-05-06T01:23:00.002+05:302013-05-06T01:24:15.150+05:30Quiet Conversations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
He was walking down the road when he crossed her shop. He had stopped momentarily with no intention walking in when with his next breath he took in the fresh, warm aroma of hot cake. The kind that makes you take a deep breath and fills you with warmth and joy. He walked in, guided by his nose and saw her laying the cakes out. He gestured with his finger for one and she smiled as she put one on plate for him. He sat down and took a small bite while she smiled in return at his happy smile.
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<a href="http://everydaygyaan.com/2013/05/100-words-on-saturday-week-9">Written for 100 words on Saturday - Week 9 Prompt: Quiet Conversations</a></div>
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<a href="http://everydaygyaan.com/tag/100-words-on-saturday/" title="100 Words On Saturday"><img alt="100 Words On Saturday" class="aligncenter" height="135" src="http://i1329.photobucket.com/albums/w547/CorinneRodrigues/100WordsOnSaturdayEverydayGyaan_zps523cd9d5.jpg" style="border: none;" width="180" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-50881830640864886452013-05-06T01:22:00.006+05:302013-05-06T01:22:48.511+05:30A proud owner of a custom RM painted tee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Quite some time ago I came across <a href="http://readingthroughrsmind.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">RM’s blog</a> when she had commented something about Baroda on a friend’s post. RM stands for R’s Mom, simply because she has girl whose name starts with R. Soon I began frequenting her blog. Apart from bringing up R with RD (R’s Dad), she known for blogging, reading, rolling eyes, and making awesome sambhar. Few of her blog posts also mention about her painting tee shirts as a hobby. These are in Warali designs and she mostly <a href="http://readingthroughrsmind.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/of-playgrounds-painting-and-stuff" target="_blank">makes them for R, friends’ kids</a> and <a href="http://readingthroughrsmind.wordpress.com/2013/05/03/the-painted-t-shirts-and-an-authentic-tambram-recipe" target="_blank">nephews/nieces.</a>
One fine day I happened to request her to paint a tee for me as well. Being the nice person that she is, she said she would do it as long as I sent her a tee of the right size. This makes sense because imagine the horror that would happen if she painted on an L size tee when I am clearly a size XXL. I would have to exercise loads and drop sizes to fit in that tee. So I promptly ordered a tee online to be shipped to her, which she painted and sent me back. Ladies and gentlemen I am now the proud owner of a custom RM painted tee shirt. *Applause**Readers look in envy**some readers will now roll their eyes*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://santulan.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/tee.jpg"><img alt="My tee by RM" class="size-medium wp-image-357" height="300" src="http://santulan.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/tee.jpg?w=225" width="225" /></a> </div>
Moving from left to right, on the top is a chain of people holding hands and guys on the left have started doing the wave. Below that we have an adventurous guy who has jumped of a plane, which is flying into an unsuspecting bird ahead. Now we see a bunch of balls lying to cushion said guy’s landing, a reflection of the sun and a tree of fireworks (maybe for successfully parachute jumping off the plane). The last row has a bunch of herbs which will be used for cooking a feast, a guy with a really long arm trying to empty a bottle of chilli sauce in to a pot while another person tries to stop him as a headless horse is just being itself and walking around trying to be away from whatever explodes from the cooking vessel. When I first opened the tee I had held it sideways and the last bit looked like an octopus tentacle to me, which on holding the tee properly I realized is a train on a mountain. I will still pretend that it is an octopus tentacle.<br />
<br />
Thank you RM for such a wonderful tee, I hope you go professional with your tee shirt painting and it becomes a success. :D</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-52291703616079813812013-05-02T01:17:00.000+05:302013-05-02T01:17:01.688+05:30When a three year old is raped by her father<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
This is the story of Isabel (name changed), a girl who was raped by her father when she was three years old. Please let this sink in to you, she was raped by her own father when she was three years old.<a href="http://www.openthemagazine.com/article/nation/rape-at-home" style="-webkit-transition: all 0.3s linear; border: 0px; color: #ff8f85; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.3s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Link to article">I found this news piece while surfing twitter.</a></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
This is about the trial of a French foreign ministry employee Pascal Mazuriera against whom his wife Suja Jones has filed a complaint for raping their daughter. Isabel had been telling this to her but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it at first. Finally Isabel was able to reach to her mother who had her tested who told that</div>
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</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“<em style="outline: 0px;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm;">He made bobo on my zheezhee</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>(hurt my genitals).”</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“<em style="outline: 0px;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm;">He put something filthy in my
mouth</span></em>.”</span><span style="line-height: 23px;"> </span></blockquote>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
According to the tests done, Isabel had “genital lacerations, rectal gaping, an absent hymen, and sperm in her vagina”. It was when these results came out that Suja Jones finally filed a case against her husband. On filing the case this is the <i>advice</i> she was given by a police woman:</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">‘In our families, we don’t take this kind of
thing outside,’ recalls Jones. “She said I should have found a way to ‘help
him’ myself.”</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Please explain to me how this is just a family matter. Rape is a serious crime, and like all crimes should be reported and after an investigation and trial the rapist must be punished. By hushing rape up and keeping it as a family matter you are only letting the rapist know that he can get away with it. This will not help.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Although initially a happily married couple with the husband showing no such signs, there were some developing traits that should have rung bells. <i>Suja Jones says that “I thought he was amazing and I was nobody. I let him decide things, even things like who the children could or could not play with. It was subtle, but he was the boss.”</i> A relationship is about two equals and one cannot dictate or be the boss.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i>According to Jones, sometime after the birth of Isabel her husband turned violent. She says he hit their oldest son and he hit her twice during a pregnancy. Mazurier needed hospital treatment after hurting his own hand by pounding on a door she was hiding behind with the children.</i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Violence is never a part of a relationship. You are never safe around a person who hits your children and you, pregnant or not. These are tell-tale signs of an abusive person who can snap at anything which he may deem as a provocation and lash out.</div>
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Suja Jones also says , “The man I loved, who was a good husband in a respectable position, held by many in such high regard. I thought ‘if he says it was the soap that hurt her, then of course it was the soap that hurt her and how wrong of me to pay attention to what Isabel was saying”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #666666; font-family: Muli, 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
A person maybe of high public regard or someone you love but that does not mean that he is not a rapist. Listen to the person who is telling you about it even if she happens to be your three your girl. In spite of what we may think kids can recognize a wrong touch from a normal touch. <em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A person’s social status or regard has no bearing on what he does when he is left alone with someone.</em> This is especially so when people tend to hush up rape. </div>
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<br /></div>
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What irks me the most though is this:</div>
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</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">“When a woman is raped,” says 38-year-old Jones,
who was born and raised in Calcutta, “it is her own fault. When a little girl
is raped, it is the mother’s fault.”</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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When a woman is raped it is NOT her fault. When a little girl is raped, it is NOT her fault. It is the RAPIST who is responsible. Stop with the victim blaming. Stop people from raping, do not ask people to stop themselves from being raped. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-66878317968253383672013-04-01T00:51:00.002+05:302013-04-01T00:52:30.535+05:30Trees of fire and poison<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Under the influence of
different emotions, people tend to write different things. People react
differently to the emotions and on being asked to write something with duress to
their then state of mind, results in some interesting reads. <br />
Yesterday I was sitting in The Chocolate Room after having met a friend. It had
been a good day till then, and I was merrily sipping away my fruit drink with loads
of ice in it when I thought of writing something. This is what I came up with:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Laugh now but know that I
shall sow the seeds of vengeance, spite and envy and wait. Patiently. I shall
water them, nurture them and let them grow in to big large trees. And when they
bear fruits, I shall set the whole thing on fire. I shall watch it burn, and
with it burn every bit of this place to ash. When there is nothing else left to
burn, I shall dance.</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There, this is what I
come up with when I am all happy and merry. Frankly I quite like the way it
came out, I think of having a story in which the villain says this to a
supporting one before proceeding to kill him. This should drive the lead
character into an emotionally charged burst of actions. After I had posted this
on FB, <a href="http://www.priyankazneverland.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">a friend</a> shared a poem I had not read before. <br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">A poison tree (by William
Blake)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I was angry with my friend:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">I told my wrath, my wrath did end.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">I was angry with my foe:</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">I told it not, my wrath did grow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">And I watered it in fears,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Night and morning with my tears;</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And I sunned it with smiles,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And with soft deceitful wiles.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">And it grew both day and night</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Till it bore an apple bright;</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And my foe beheld it shine,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And he knew that it was mine,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">And into my garden stole</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">When the night had veiled the pole:</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">In the morning glad I see</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">My foe outstretched beneath the tree.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-67414883391817522322013-03-29T06:38:00.002+05:302013-03-29T06:38:43.324+05:30Beauty Sleep<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“When does your train leave?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“It leaves at ten, so we have about an hour’s worth of
time left.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Ohhh let me stop at a chemist first. The shops will
close by the time I return.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“You’re not well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“No, I am fine. I just need to pick up sanitaries.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Why do you need to pick up sanitaries?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">He realized it was a stupid question to ask of her.
She gave him a glance as she pulled over close the chemist shop. She silently
turned the ignition off and got down to purchase the sanitary pads. He turned
on a game on his cell phone to pass time till she would come back. She returned
in a few minutes and started the engine. A few quiet minutes passed before he
started staring at her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“I have an awkward question.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Your questions are always awkward.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“It is possibly stupid too”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“They happen to be that as well. But I am used to them
now, ask.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN"> “If diapers and
sanitary pads work on the same principle, why doesn’t a company make them both?
I mean wouldn’t it make sense to use the same technology on two different products.”<br />
“Companies already do that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Oh, they do? It makes sense to do so.”<br />
“Remind me again, why I am still a friend with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Because of my intelligence and charm!” he said as he
made a rolling motion with his hand and grinned wide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“And yet you ask questions like this.” <br />
<br />
She continued to smile at him. <br />
<br />
“So why are you leaving by the train, when you can take the early morning
flight?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“<i>Arrey</i>, I
will have to wake up early for the early flight. Sleep will get screwed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Yeah, I know how much you need your <i>beauty</i> sleep.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“<i>Haaww</i>... I
need to be my best for the presentation tomorrow. I thought I can catch up on
my sleep in the train. Both will reach at the same time anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“No <i>baba</i>,
beauty sleep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Yeah, yeah, Beauty sleep. What do we know; some hot girl
might end up hitting on me in the train.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Oh please do check if the girl is short sighted
before you get such an impression from her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Both of them ended up guffawing. They had reached the
railway station, and she parked the car. He took his bag out and walked towards
the stairs while she went towards the ticket counter to purchase an entry
ticket. She came back with one soon as there was no queue, and they both
started climbing the stairs together. Since he was carrying his bag, she got
ahead by a few steps. He noticed the way in which she climbed the stairs. How
she took long strides that would make her take two steps instead of one. How
her pants would pull against her and accentuate her rear, and how while
climbing down there would be a little jiggle in them if she skipped a step. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">She started looking at the overhead sign boards which
would inform them where which compartment would be once the train would stop.
Since they were still early by almost twenty minutes they were not showing any
information. He set his bag down on one of the many seats on the platform while
she asked a vendor where the AC coaches would stop. He saw that he had
forgotten to bring water with him for the journey and signalled her to get a
bottle for him from the same vendor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Your coach will be just a little ahead, so we can sit
here till the train comes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Oh good, I don’t have to lug this bag around then.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“What are you carrying in it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“My laptop, a pair of clothes for tomorrow and a tee
and capris for the return trip tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“You know if this presentation doesn’t work out, you
can always try to find work as a <i>coolie</i>.
You have good experience.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“It’s not that heavy. Besides I can’t sleep in pants
on the way back. So I packed a set of capris as well. I will come back to the
company guest house and change before returning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“And why are you not taking a flight back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Umm. I thought I could shop around a little and take
the late night train back. Catch up on my beauty sleep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“You and your sleep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">There was a pregnant pause. He didn’t know what she
was thinking. He wanted to talk to her about it, but was unsure how to bring it
about. He stared at her feet for a while which she was tapping away. She was
wearing brown colored <i>chappasl</i> which
had a pattern of red curves drawn into them. They were quiet for a while before
they heard the announcement of his train. Soon enough they could make out the
beam of the headlight of the train, followed by the blaring horn seconds later.
Once the train came to stop, she stood by the waiting chairs while he went and
kept his bag on his berth. He came out to say a bye. <br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Reshma.” He called her name in a slow prolonged
voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Yes Sri?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Do you want me to get you anything from there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“I thought you’d never ask. I hear you can get good
street-wear there. Get me some bracelets or beads.” She replied with a grin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Sure”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">The train gave another blaring horn which meant that
it would now leave. He turned and climbed on to it. She waived a bye. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Message me one you reach home.”<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">This is how both of them parted. He got back to his
berth, and lay down thinking about the night. Of all the things he had told,
the ones he wanted to tell, and more importantly the ones he didn’t. He was
lost in his thoughts of her, wondering when and how should he tell her about
it. Few minutes passed before he received her message that she had reached
home. Seconds later he received another wishing him a good night’s sleep. His
beauty sleep was far from his mind as he lay awake on the berth now, lost in
his thoughts.<span style="text-transform: uppercase;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-50432803225372898662013-03-21T22:33:00.001+05:302013-03-21T22:33:25.789+05:30The Pillow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He was lying sprawled on his bed when he felt the vibration. It was a
tiny vibration and he heard the closing ding of the ringtone that would usually
accompany it. This particular tone meant that he had received a message on
WhatsApp. He cringed after he unlocked the phone as the white and blue light from
it stung his eyes. After his eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden
influx on bright light, he saw that it was two in the morning. He was not
surprised as some friend of his would be awake in the US and would have sent
him a message. He slid down the notification bar and clicked the notification
with his thumb. It was the picture of a pillow. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A pillow? Why I am being sent a picture of a pillow, he thought. He
looked up to see that it was from his friend Sara. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“?” He pinged her back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“My pillow” was the instant reply.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Yes I can see that it is a pillow. I can still see” was his sassy
reply.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“<i>Arrey baba</i>, you asked me <i>na</i> , whom I love the most.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“So you love your pillow the most?” He got up and sat with his back
rested against the wall. This conversation was getting interesting. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Of course”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Why?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Oh my pillow is so loyal. He didn’t cheat on me like my ex, he doesn’t
lie to me, and is always there for me. Whenever I feel sad or weak, he’s there
for me to cry upon. Whenever I feel happy, he’s there for me sleep with a
content smile on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Wow, lucky pillow.” Luckier than him, he thought. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Now don’t you start feeling all jealous of my lovely boy friend :P”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Totally jealous :D”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“So what are you doing now?”<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Wondering if you would rather send me a picture of yourself instead of
your boy friend.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Now? But I am already in the bed. Staring at the fan go round and
round.”<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Yeah, bet the fan is hitting on you as well.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“LOL :D”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He wondered if that really did make her laugh. She had a wonderful
laugh which was unrestrained. A nice loud laugh that came from the inside, he
wondered if this was one of those ones. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I am feeling sleepy now. Do you
want me to call you to wake up in the morning? “<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“No.. It’s better to stay awake till 5 than to be woken up at 5. Good
night, sleep well. You and your pillow.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And the screen went blank as he locked the phone. He had close to three
hours of time to kill before he would have to start getting ready to leave for
work. He wondered how he should spend those three hours. He got up and went to
the bath room to wash his face. He turned the geyser on, and let the bathtub
fill with hot water. He went to the kitchen to grab cold can of cold cola from
the fridge to drink as he spend time on his laptop surfing the net. He fired up
his mail and facebook, and started to read a blog posted by his sister. It was a
small piece of fiction about story challenge to be written on the theme of
having received a picture message in the night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He smiled. Here was a story he was more than happy to write.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Written in response to <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 1.4em;"><a href="http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/03/18/writing-challenge-nighttime-photo/comment-page-2/#comment-165139" target="_blank">Creative Writing Challenge: 2AM Photo</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 1.4em;"><br />Inspired from <a href="http://shailsnest.com/2013/03/21/the-message/" target="_blank">The Message</a></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-37373804579883406532013-03-07T22:08:00.003+05:302013-03-07T22:12:29.973+05:30Recipe - Soupy Pasta (for Healthy and Tasty Recipe Contest)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ingredients:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Spaghetti (use wheat or semolina pasta) – 100 gms</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Onion – 1 medium size – finely chopped</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Corn Kernels – 1 cup</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Peas – 1 cup</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Tomato Puree – 1 cup or 1 medium tomato finely
chopped</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Mushrooms – 3 medium sized, thinly sliced </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span>Oil – 5 table spoons (I used Fortune Rice Bran health oil)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Garlic – 1 teaspoon paste or three cloves finely
chopped</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Red Chilli Flakes – 1 table spoon</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Hing (Asafoetida) – 1 teas spoon</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Red Chilli sauce – 2 table spoon</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Salt – to taste</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Water</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Recipe:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
Section
1 – Pasta:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Take 1 litre of water in a wide bottomed or
deep vessel. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add 1 table spoon of salt. Bring the water
to boil. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Once
the water is boiling add the pasta in it. (Tip: Do not add oil to the water or
the vessel. It will prevent the spices and sauces from sticking to the pasta
and will reduce taste.) </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Let the pasta boil for 10 minutes, stirring
every three minutes. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Strain the pasta in a strainer. You can
choose to drain away this starchy water or save it to be used as stock in other
recipes. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Now transfer the pasta in a bowl. Fill it
with cold water, and drain the pasta in a strainer. Repeat till pasta is cold.
This way the pasta will not stick together. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Now transfer pasta in an empty bowl. The
pasta should not be more than half the bowl’s volume. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
We will use this empty space later. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WP3v3ViQLrc/UTjBbEUTZqI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gYDvGr2We1w/s1600/pasta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WP3v3ViQLrc/UTjBbEUTZqI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gYDvGr2We1w/s320/pasta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Section
2 – The vegetables and spices:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Heat 3 table spoons of Fortune Rice Bran
oil in a pan.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add
the finely chopped onion and garlic. Sauté till onion turns golden brown. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add the thinly sliced mushrooms. Add 2
table spoons of oil. Sauté till mushrooms change turn slightly brown. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add the tomato puree, and stir. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add Chilli
sauce, chilli flakes, hing and salt. Continue to stir.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add the Corn kernels and peas.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Stir for 1 minute.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QrKe9c5QG_Q/UTjBjauk68I/AAAAAAAAAKU/tL5HxetbIUc/s1600/dry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QrKe9c5QG_Q/UTjBjauk68I/AAAAAAAAAKU/tL5HxetbIUc/s320/dry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Section
3 – The Soup:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Add 600 ml of water. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Stir well and bring to boil.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
This will form the soup. Let it boil for 5
minutes by when the corn and peas should soften. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJKgQbyvMk0/UTjBixgXD7I/AAAAAAAAAKE/sZKx6E5jc2M/s1600/boiling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJKgQbyvMk0/UTjBixgXD7I/AAAAAAAAAKE/sZKx6E5jc2M/s320/boiling.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
Pour this soup on the pasta we had kept aside in the bowl. Voila,
you’re done<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>.
You can choose to garnish with sprigs of basil or coriander. But I like to have
it as it is. </div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-elxnM0UdiIs/UTjBjFvWJZI/AAAAAAAAAKM/896W53I_eZM/s1600/final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-elxnM0UdiIs/UTjBjFvWJZI/AAAAAAAAAKM/896W53I_eZM/s320/final.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
Now
some of you may wonder that this looks like soupy noodles. Yes it looks like
soupy noodles because I chose to use Wheat Spaghetti instead of noodles which
are made from Maida (or refined white flour.) You can replace the spaghetti with
penne, fusilli or any other pasta as well. You’re also using Fortune Rice Bran
oil, so that adds to the healthy quotient as well. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br />
Please do tell me how it turned out for you. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
</div>
This post is a part of Healthy & Tasty Recipe Contest with <a href="http://www.fortunericebranhealth.com/" target="_blank" title="Fortune Rice Bran Health">Fortune Rice Bran Health Oil</a> & <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank" title="The Best community for Indian Bloggers">BlogAdda.com</a>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-51472085671653780682013-02-21T04:43:00.000+05:302013-02-21T04:43:18.602+05:30Why I don't want to get married<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was rummaging through some of my old files and stumbled
upon a questionnaire a friend had sent to me about marriage and my preferences.
The idea of marriage is that when two people get along well/love each other or
are deemed to be good matches for each other (by families of said people) and
decide to make it public that they intend to live the rest of their lives
together. (Of course is it a public notification or approval may lead to
another blog sometime in the future.) All this is fine as long as you consider
some of the aspects involved in it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple of my friends have gotten married by now, and some
people look upon realizing that I am of all 25 years of age (Silver Jubilee for
the win) tell me that I should get married as well. The thing about some of
these friends is that they had started dating / seeing each other sometime in
college. So take 1-4 years of the college time and add four more years since to
get about 5-9 years of being in a relationship during or after which they took
a joint decision to get married. I can live with marriages that lead from that.
I mean you have spent time close to a person to have known that person well
enough to make and estimate of how they will turn out to be and take a call on
that. When they felt the time was right they decided to marry each other. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they felt the time was right and not age. Who came up
with the idea anyway? You’re of the right age, you should get married now.
Seriously, dude? Yes I am at an age where I have a job and have my wisdom (limited as it may be) can
be counted on to make some life decisions, does not mean that I get married
now. It is the time that is important and not age (Of course you’re old enough
to be an adult that is). It is different time durations for everyone. Some
think a few months of being in a relation is fine, while others think years. It’s
totally based on the said two people involved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Doing household chores makes me think about it. A few days
ago I had posted this as a status update on facebook: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tonight I thought if it would be different to
have been married. I came back just before 1(noon shift) and too tired to cook
but hungry. It would seem so easy to wake her up and ask her to make something
(even if it is instant noodles for me)</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="background: #F1F2F6; color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Comment by me: Of course like Dumbledore said, we must choose between
what is easy and what is right</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I had come back from a shift work at 1 in the night (or morning)
and was hungry. Unfortunately there were no cookies or fruits in the house that
day (as I had eaten them all up and not restocked). Since I was tired I
wondered if I had been married, wouldn’t it seem easy to wake her up and have
her cook something for me. Easy doesn’t always mean right. Imagine being waken
up in the middle of a sound sleep to cook something for someone (Of course she
could be doing other things as well like a friend pointed out. She could be at
a friend’s, or reading, or watching a movie, etc... But let us for now get with
the idea of her being asleep when I come home). Imagine being woken up from a
sound sleep just to cook something for someone. Some people would like to tell me that this is
not any someone, and since she is my wife she is <b>supposed</b> to do it for me. I don’t want her to do things for me just
because she is my wife, I want her to be my wife because of the things she does
for me. Similarly I don’t want to do
things for someone just because I am married to her, I want to be married
because of the things I do for her or am willing to do for her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Similarly, this has to do with things like my bed as well. I
am in general not much bothered about my bed. I can sleep on beds and floors
with equal comfort. As long I change my sheets regularly, I don’t bother much.
Which is why before they get ironed, my washed clothes get dumped on my bed
along with a book that is half way of being read, along with what is today an empty bottle of
water(I should pick that up once this is posted). The idea is that I don’t want
my preferences to add work for her or make her cringe. It would make sense to
have such clothes in a neat pile in the bag in the corner of the room or that
empty section in the cupboard. Since it doesn’t matter to me that much I dump
them on the bed, however it would matter to her (it being her bed as well). <br />
<br />
When I think of kids, I end up at times freaking out about whether they will
eat non-veg or pray or not. I like to eat, veg and non-veg inclusive. If my
wife eats non-veg as well then things are all great. And I have no problem
being with someone who is a vegetarian. I mean it’s a matter of not putting
non-veg in her plate or gargling real good with mouth wash after dinner or just
plain old eating away from her eyes when I do.
Things will be fine based on the understanding me and my wife of not
forcing things on each other. Bring kids into the equation and you have an
unstable reaction. What if she brings up kids with the idea that eating meat is
not good because we are killing innocent animals for it, which is a bad thing
to do. And then they see daddy dearest eating a chicken burger and enjoying it
closed eyes and lost thoughts. I don’t know how the conversation will go from
there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am also not a religious person (anymore) and don’t pray or
observe fasts or days. The two of these things have absolutely nothing to do with
each other. However which religion (and how much of it) you follow can be an
important part of your identity. When kids see their mom praying and visiting
temples (or any other religious place) and dad not giving a hoot about it and
question me why I don’t pray, what do I tell them? That I don’t pray because
don’t believe, or bother more about humans than gods. Will they imagine me a
ring of fire behind me every time they see me eat meat? Of course none of this
may come in to picture, or before it does me and my wife would have some sort
of understanding on how to get the kids through this and leave it totally up to
their choice. But I tend to freak out about it at times. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That being said, I don’t want to get married for now because
I don’t have anyone to whom I can relate enough to get married to. When the
time is right and we both think, it will be marriage time. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-61973633121350582812013-02-11T05:14:00.000+05:302013-02-11T07:46:03.120+05:30Love is<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not diarrhea That is right, Love is not diarrhea Ok, why do
you ask that I say this? Because I cannot take it when people left and right
are telling me that love just happens. There is no reason behind, love never
happens for a reason. You know how the saying goes that shit happens. Love doesn't happen like that. Love is not diarrhea. <br />
<br />
OK, you can skip this paragraph for the imagery it may provide. I am sorry for
that. I vividly remember what my first conscious memory of diarrhea is. I
remember wearing grey shorts and sitting in the front courtyard of my house and
reading. I felt a little tingly sensation in my stomach. I felt like I had gas
and wanted to fart. I tried, except instead of gas a thick fluid came through.
I felt disgusted and ran to the toilet as I felt myself getting moister with
every step I took.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love is nothing like that. Love happens for a reason. When some
people told me that love doesn't happen for a reason I honestly felt like
saying “Kids these days, don’t know what love is”! Of course saner sense
prevailed when I also thought that since these were my friends, they were not that young
or me that old to think or say this. Yes, I understand that the realization
that you are in love with someone can be sudden or gradual. It can come out of
the blue to you, but the feeling is not baseless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, you may think that the reason for your love can fail. You
love someone for what they promised, and what they could have been but chose
not to. Such is not a failure of our reason, but the failure of your loved to
reflect the values you seek. Ayn Rand got this right: <span style="background: white; color: #222222;">One falls in<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><em><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal;">love</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">with the embodiment of the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><em><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal;">values</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">that formed<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><em><b><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal;">a</span></b></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">person's character</span>. And if the person, in whom you
wished to see those values come alive, didn't breathe of them then it is not
the failure of your love but of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Love is not a sacrifice. You can
give up many things in the name of love. If doing something or not having
something brings a smile or comfort to the person you love, then it is not a
sacrifice. You did it for bringing happiness to your loved, and that mattered
to you more than what you did or gave up. You got something in return for what
you did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span style="color: #222222;">You can love someone and realize the
reason only when you think upon it. But you cannot love someone without a
reason. You may have a set notion for the type of person you will love, and
when you meet that type of person you will know that this is the person you
were searching for. A physical form containing the values you seek. But you
cannot have a person you love just like that. Love just doesn't happen, it
happens for a reason. There are people
who end up saying that I don’t know why I loved him/her because they did not
base their love on something. You can know of course why you don’t love a
person anymore. You thought different of that person before, and now you have
reasons to believe that he doesn't meet them. It is OK please move on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see even <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diarrhea#Differential_diagnosis" target="_blank">diarrhea doesn't happen without reason</a>. There could
be toxins, food poisoning, infections or any different reason for it to happen.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone has a different reason for love. For some it is the sense of comfort the other
person brings to you. It can also be a feeling of security that you can be
yourself in the presence of that person that you can be without inhibitions. It
can be because of the felling you got once you kissed you would never want to
kiss anyone else again. I realized that for me it was a sense of admiration. An
admiration for the questions that I had to ask myself, for the reasons she did
the things she did, for her courage to live her life as she wanted, for making
me realize the difference between who I am and who I wanted to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if nothing else, ask yourself one thing when you think you
love a person. What is it that makes you love this person and not someone else?
What is it that sets this person apart from the countless others you have met?
For if you love this person without a reason, you might as well be loving another
stranger in the crowd.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-33605706120228585342013-01-07T00:33:00.001+05:302013-01-07T09:30:50.980+05:30(High on) Happiness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Have you ever had one of those days when you are happy? Not
just happy, but high with happiness? When things just fall in place, when you
meet nice people, eat good stuff, today was one such day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To recount what lead to this day:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I spent one entire weekend with mom without either
of us saying anything stingy at the other.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">We checked out some houses (we’re house hunting
for a new place)</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Mom made<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Re0Ohty3oBE" target="_blank"> dahi puri</a> for me in the evening. Now
dahi puri is unhealthy because I have a sore throat, and the chutney and cold
curd would not do me good. But eating unhealthy food is fun and she made it
because I asked her to.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I spent some wonderful time at ‘The chocolate
room’ in Ahmadabad. I had a large black coffee, an almond cold coffee, and a Chocó-chilli
sandwich. It was a wonderful sandwich it had chillies and chocolate scrapings in
it. The chocolate would clash with the chilly and it was oh-so-good. I got a
nice table all for myself and wonderful internet speed to watch some of my favourite
anime.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I saw <a href="http://www.postergully.com/collections/travel-mafia/products/im-young" target="_blank">this poster</a> while searching for a new poster to buy. It gave me a sense of reassurance, that there is more to me than some of the problems I had recently started thinking on. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">On the way to Baroda from Ahmadabad I got a bus
that had half the seats empty. I could sit on an entire three seat row all by
myself and read. When the bus conductor turned off some of the lights he let
two lights on so that I could read. He then got up from his single seat and sat
on another empty row seat. Those of you who have travelled by GSRTC busses know
of this seat. It is the single seat at the entrance which has handle bars in
front of it for people to hold on to while climbing on/off. So when you sit on
this seat, you can sink in a little and rest your feet on this handle bar. Such
a comfortable position to read in. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">The window in front of me was open with a just
little tiny gap that let a cool breeze in. The breeze would hit my naked feet
and make me feel as if my feet were in a river of flowing cool water. And the
best part was that no one complained about it or asked me to shut the window.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I thought of two women whom I admire. <a href="http://shailsnest.com/" target="_blank">One is ofcourse this wonderful doting big sister whom I love as much as I can.</a> The other
is of course the is B to my A, the Alpha to my Omega, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYS8eEiL0Wk" target="_blank">the Sheila to my jawani</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOCc49wZAfg" target="_blank">the fevicol to my photo</a>. They just cheer me up.</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Now my views on god are not that religious.
But if there is a god, I would give a nice tight hug. I would tell him to take
some time off and come with me for drinks, my treat. I would ask him to listen
to this song (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqDRskLK894" target="_blank">Emotional Attyachar</a> (attyachar is Hindi for torture) from Dev D).
The song in itself is a sad song; however it has a special place for me. I had
gone to watch this movie in a single screen local cinema house because we
couldn’t get tickets anywhere else. Now this song has a nice beat to it. When
this song came on screen I was just tapping my feet being as reserved that I
am. But some guys in the audience just thought “Chuck it” and got up started
dancing to have a wonderful time. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
So the idea is to ask God to chuck it and not
think of the people who are doing all forms of torture in his name. You know
take a vacation with your goddess, and go relax and recharge. If you made this
world, we gave it shape as it is now. You don’t have to take it on your
shoulders. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Today is also an eventful day for another
reason. The father of the Delhi-Gang Rape case victim shared his daughter’s name
(Jyoti Singh Pandey). He said: </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 19.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i><span style="color: #373737; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/jyoti-singh-pandey-delhi-bus-gang-rape-victims-name/" target="_blank">“We want
the world to know her real name.<o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 19.5pt; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i><span style="color: #373737; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/jyoti-singh-pandey-delhi-bus-gang-rape-victims-name/" target="_blank">“My daughter didn’t do
anything wrong, she died while protecting herself.<o:p></o:p></a></span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 19.5pt; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i><span style="color: #373737; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/jyoti-singh-pandey-delhi-bus-gang-rape-victims-name/" target="_blank">“I am proud of her.Revealing her name will give courage to other women who have survived theseattacks. They will find strength from my daughter.”</a><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The word Jyoti is a Hindi word which means light. For some
people, this case gives light and heat and casts out darkness and fear. Now I
don’t her personally, but I cannot help but feel sorry. That in a free nation,
this is the price she had to pay for being free, for just wanting to live her
own life. You had every right to live on as you wanted, but a bunch of men
thought you wanting to be free was an act of defiance against them, and raped
and beat you to a painful death. They and other such people wrongfully believe
that just because of being a woman, women have to yield to them as they wish. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do hope that whether you’re reading this or not, whether we
know of each other or not, that you have an equally wonderful day in your life. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-50254829298979951872013-01-01T11:02:00.000+05:302013-01-01T19:15:21.857+05:30Punishment and Justice<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ever since
the Delhi gang rape I have been thinking of something. Not because this is the
first rape case, or the first gang rape case, but because of the level of
depravity the rapists sunk to after raping the girl. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For those of
you who are not aware of this case, a girl and her friend took a bus. The
driver and his friends beat the girl and her friend with a rod and then went on
to rape the girl turn by turn. Then they beat her more and inserted the metal
rod in her vagina. They stripped the girl and her friend and tossed them out on
the streets. The girl’s injuries were so harsh that her intestines had to be
removed. There was hope that she could have a transplant but she died of her
injuries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This case has
brought the people of the nation together. People began to voice their concerns
loud in forms of protests. Why don’t we have strict anti-rape laws? Why isn’t
it safe for women to go out in the open? Why must they be blamed for the rape
and not the rapist? What punishment should be given to these men? Some people
demanded capital punishment, while some demanded castration. People took to the
streets in protests asking for all this. Some people blamed the rapists, the
police, the government, there were few who looked inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why look
inside do you ask me? I will tell you why. When this barbaric case came to
light, many people wept for the all the girl had to face, and cursed the
rapists but many also asked “What was the girl doing at that time of the night
with a male friend? Why did she take that bus? When we all know that it is an
unsafe place for women why did she watch the late show? Did she do something to
instigate the rapists in to beating her so badly?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I fail to see
how it all matters. If she dressed a particular way and the men got so aroused,
they should have kept their arousal to themselves. Instead of teaching women
how to dress teach the men to control themselves. Women get raped irrespective of
the clothes they wear (sari, salwar kameez, jeans, skirts, etc.), of how old or
young they are (teens, toddlers, old), or where they are (home, office, public
transport, streets). The key aspect here being that there are men who rape, and
it is this fact that must be addressed if you wish to get to the root of it all
to eradicate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A fact I
believe that contributes to this all is how girls and boys are brought up.
Traditionally we are a society which is biased towards the men. This is why we
tell girls not to get raped instead of telling the guys not to rape. Idiots. I
think it is very easy to blame the victims, and get away with that instead of
correcting centuries old incorrect thinkings. It is easy, but
not right. To quote Albus Dumbledore, “<span style="background: white; color: #333333;">We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.</span>”
We need to teach the generations that are to come and that have already come
that girls are in no way lower than guys. This means that you cannot just go
and have her if you find her attractive; you cannot rape her if she says no. No
means No. It’s not just a matter of finding someone physically attractive or
pleasing to the eyes. It’s the idea that you want her and you must have her,
her consent not being of any matter to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"> Then you have people who
agree that such people are who cannot control themselves, that they are mad
dogs or bulls of sort. So they tell me that if one sees a mad dog running or a
mad bull you don’t go there and run like mad when it charges towards you. First
of all, these are men we are talking of not animals. But I understand where
this logic comes from, if we equate them with animals since they can’t control
themselves; then they must be treated like animals of such sort. Tie them and
lock them up before they bite, put them down. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now regarding
what must be done to these rapists, I was personally of the opinion to not give
them capital punishment. Well because if you kill them, it’s the end for them
while the girl continues fighting for her life. Instead send them to prison,
and make them pay for all her expenses (medical and otherwise till she lives). There
is difference between punishment and justice. In discussion with a friend <a href="http://girlsguidetosurvival.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Desi Girl</a> on
this that “J<span style="background: white; color: #333333;">ustice is the closure
for the victim and punishment is about extracting penalty cash or kind from the
wrong doer</span>.” However now with the girl being dead I wonder if we should
make an example of these rapists. For now it’s a case of not just rape, but
torture and murder. So yes, the rapists must be punished, but what about
justice? Justice needs to be served to not just her but to all other people who
have been raped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want to do your bit about justice and preventing such
cases please ‘look inside’ as well. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In one of my google searches in, I found this video. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;">(Contains violence and dramatized gore)</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bWpK0wsnitc" width="560"></iframe></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-18320258343210282162012-12-07T01:46:00.000+05:302012-12-07T09:51:52.071+05:30Made it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was leaning against the gate
and waiting for him to come out of the house. He took out his mobile to check on
the time and saw that it was not even eight in the night yet. There would be
enough time to get things done before sleeping. He heard the noise of someone
rushing down steps and turned to see him come out of his house. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What were you searching for so
long?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was searching for my watch.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the hell do you need a
watch for?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anyway, while taking my watch
out my eyes fell on this, so I thought that maybe we could have it today”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pulled out a slender metal
cylinder from his pocket and handed it to him. He pulled open the cap and
inhaled a deep long breath, taking in the aroma of the cigar in. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Romeo Juliet, good stuff. I
thought you were saving this to enjoy on some occasion.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was, and I will be leaving
today. What better a time to enjoy it? Besides if I leave it behind, how is
going to anything to it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having secured a seat for
studying statistics, Rajesh was to leave for Washington the next day and wanted
to spend some time of his last day with his good friend and class mate Sameer.
Rajesh wanted to go to the States for quite some time now, for he believed that
not only a better education but also a better life style and standard of living
awaited him there. Sameer had not shown such desires yet. Rajesh pocketed the
cigar case and sat behind Sameer on his bike. Sameer pushed the start button on
the handle, changed gears and rode off towards the road, careful to avoid the
potholes on the connecting lanes from the society to the road. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a short drive to his place
which was just about 2 kilo meters away. Rajesh got down so that Sameer may
park his bike in the ground floor parking. He nodded to the watchman sitting on
his steel chair next to the elevator and pressed the button to call the
elevator down. Sameer was there with him by the time the elevator doors opened.
They got in together and he pressed 6 for the floor on which his house was
while Rajesh closed the grille which served as the inner door. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Have you got booze in the house
or will we have to go and get it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think three or four bottles of
beer and some of the vodka we had got the other day.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Should do enough. If there is
any less you’re going to drag your fat ass all by yourself to buy some.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ Balls. I am just going relax on
the bean bag while you bring it yourself. Who asked you to drink so much last
time?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oi, it’s not like I made a
mess!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah, that is all I need. Feed
you free food and beer and then clean up after you throw up. Very relaxing.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Exactly, I don’t see why you’re
cribbing about it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Both of them entered the house
grinning. Sameer went on to the kitchen to bring glasses and bottles while
Rajesh sat on the couch and turned the TV on. Sameer brought it all out on the
table and while he was pouring the drinks out, Rajesh was emptying packets of salted
cashews and dried figs. They took their first glasses of beer, clinked them,
said cheers and drank it up. Soon the cigar came out and Rajesh and took two
puffs before passing it to Sameer. He put it in his mouth and waited for the flavour
to seep in before taking a puff and heaving a deep sigh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is some real good stuff.
Top Notch”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Totally. Do you remember our
first cigar?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hahaha, yeah. We went to the
other side of the city to have it so that no one would catch us.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It was one of those cheap flavoured
cigars, but back then we felt so rich doing it.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah, stupid kids.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oye. Speak for yourself, mister.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then they went on to talk
about some of other good times they had shared together in college and after
it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So when do you leave for the
airport tomorrow?”<br />
“Around 12, want to check in a little early and go inside. You know how mum and
papa are, they will get teary.”<br />
“And will they be ok going back on their own?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ Yeah, my cousin will also come
to drop me off. You should come too, you know. ”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wish, but I have a
presentation tomorrow and boss won’t give me a day off.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not to the airport, I am talking
about US.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now where did this come from?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know I am going to do masters
before getting a full time job, but it’s different there. You can save up from your
part time while studying so you don’t have to ask your parents.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And other than that it is not
like here. Over there people aren’t bothered about others. You’re only treated
as good as your work. People let you be who you are.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah, that is what Sonal told me
too. It’s a great country that you’re going to, and I would totally love it
over there. But you know how I feel about it. We all want to leave here because
we say that this place sucks, but nobody wants to stay back and do something
about it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dude, that is all nice to read
about in the books you have. You’ve been reading too much of this philosophy
crap. Someone as good as you would do great there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hmn.., which is I want to stay back
here.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whatever, if you change your
mind let me know. Now come drop me off to my house.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t man, can’t drive like
this. I am a little drowsy. I’ll walk you down to the road and get you an auto.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They walked down to the road and
waited for a couple of minutes till an auto rickshaw came. They hugged each
other and Rajesh left in the auto. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sameer was sipping coffee with
his back rested against the wall. He straightened when he saw the boss coming
his way. He greeted him and told him that the presentation went well and the
director was pleased with the results. The boss shook his hands on a job done
well, gave him some updates on what was supposed to be done the next day and walked
ahead. Sameer got back to his coffee with his back against the wall. He looked at
the large wall clock in front of him. It was almost five in the evening. Rajesh
must be in his flight by now. He couldn’t help but feel envious of him. He
smiled and wondered if it was because he had made it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-84086860012274944022012-12-01T13:54:00.002+05:302012-12-01T13:54:36.446+05:30Review: Hexagon by Ishaan Lalit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.flipkart.com/hexagon-8183520200/p/itmd7zf5kqh9hc9f?pid=9788183520201&ref=3b02fc02-14e4-4cc9-9123-a9dbba708402&srno=m_2_1&otracker=from-search&query=Ishaan%20Lalit">Hexagon</a> is the second book by Ishaan Lalit, after <a href="http://www.flipkart.com/the-bracelet-8191091860/p/itmdyv8ajk5ybc7d?pid=9788191091861&query=Ishaan+Lalit&srno=m_2_2&ref=3b02fc02-14e4-4cc9-9123-a9dbba708402&otracker=from-search&ref=3b02fc02-14e4-4cc9-9123-a9dbba708402">TheBracelet</a>. I will give you a gist of the story with minimal spoilers before the
review.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hexagon is primarily led by Rahul Oberoi who is an art thief
along with this his girl friend Ria. Things go for a toss when they are caught
in one of their chases and are lead to a secret underground facility (and yes
it is an Indian government facility; Thank you, Ishaan), where to their wonder
his grandfather worked before his death. The reason for this facility being so
secret is the existence of an ancient hexagonal device which acts as nexus or
gateway of sorts to access the six different parallel earths. From one of these
earths comes the race known as Moths. They are on a path of world domination
and know how to use the Hexagon to access other earths to conquer them. Now it depends on how they brace themselves
with such information and what they do about it. Do they use the Hexagon to
access the other earths as well, and if they do will they find friendly races
or more enemies? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book is fast paced and surprisingly you do not get the
feeling of jumping from one act to another but instead it seems like a natural
progression only at a fast pace. It is like running up a flight of stairs and noticing
the different doors and apartments on each floor. I like to see the book in two
different aspects. The first being the story of the characters and how they act
and change as you read on. The second is the sci-fi setting of the novel with
the Hexagonal device, parallel earths, and the different races on said earths.
Ishaan deserves credit for a job well done here. He doesn’t get carried away in
either of the aspects. You won’t find him describing the universe his work is
set in and not delve on the characters. He manages to strike a balance with his
visual descriptions. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As mentioned, this is his second book and it is an added pleasure
to read it after the first. I personally believe that the core structure of the
two books is similar. A character gets involved in a situation; the existence of
which is a secret, and how he in spite of being the newbie to it has to take initiative
to see it through. This book has the weaves of story lines more intricate and
how the writer is maturing his skills with more writing. The book however has
its shortfalls. I found that the editing needs more work as there is one
chapter that is repeated after its original apart from a few very minor slips. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The second issue I have is more of a personal opinion and should
not be considered demerit at all. The book is too short for my liking. It is
not short in general, as it has about more than 50K words, and has 232 pages. I
personally enjoyed the style of writing in this book with its descriptions,
characterizations and sci-fi elements. At the end of the book I was left with a
feeling of wanting more. Make no mistake that writing such a piece of work must
have been a very consuming task for him, and the book does end with a
possibility of a sequel. I do hope that we get to read it. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-72563855229413529262012-11-25T19:57:00.000+05:302012-11-25T19:57:14.996+05:30Review: The Krishna Key<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘<a href="http://www.flipkart.com/krishna-key-9381626685/p/itmdayz59gtzmq22?pid=9789381626689&ref=fe83cf41-dc61-469d-86c2-36104d341a9a&srno=m_1_1&otracker=from-search">The Krishna Key</a>’ is the third book written by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashwin_Sanghi">Ashwin Sanghi</a>,
after having written The Rozabal Line and Chanakya’s Chant. Without giving out any
detailed spoilers, I will give you a gist of the story as part of the review.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The driving character of the books is Ravi Saini. He is a mythology
& history teacher who is on the run to clear his name in the murder of his
childhood friend Anil Varshney. Before his death, Varshney found an object that
with his theory can change how we know history. However before he can do much
about he murdered by a man who calls himself Taarak Vakil, whose name when you
play with spells out ‘Kalki Avatar’. However he is not the bad guy like
You-Know-Who but a man who believes himself to be tenth avatar of Vishnu (Kalki
Avatar) and must vanquish the wrong and bring forth the light. Now Saini must prove himself innocent while
not getting in the hands of Taarak who is trying to kill him as well and save
himself from the cunning and competent inspector in charge of hunting him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book is in three layers. Layer one is the main story of
Saini and Vakil and how their individual quests progress and sometimes merge
like the branches of a river. Layer two is the back stories/ flashbacks of the
characters which serve to add flavour and show their individual motivation.
Layer three is Krishna telling his own story to the reader. Of the three layers
I personally liked the second layer the most as it provides the background of
the canvas against which the main story is being drawn on while Krishna’s words
serve as the frame for the painting. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book has been told by some be India’s answer to Dan
Brown’s Da Vinci Code. Now I don’t know how to react to this statement, but yes
the book is indeed of the same genre. A mixing of the past and the present,
murder and mystery, facts and wishful thinking and some conspiracy theories.
The plot has its fair share of surprises and predictable moments. I believe
each reader will react differently to the book depending on the number of plot
twists they are able to predict or be fascinated by. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have not read his first book, but have read Chanakya’s
Chant with much delight multiple times. Chanakya’s Chant also had two layers,
one of the fictional retelling of Chanakya and Chandragupta Maurya’s lives and
the second of the lives Chandini and Gangasagar in the present. The two layers were
in perfect balance with one leading into the other stream lessly. Just like a
well made lasagna or Danish pastry. The Krishna Key however lacks such finesse
and at times the plot seems to be pushed ahead instead of progressing. I once
wondered that this book had been written before and Chanakya’s Chant after assuming
that as the author matured his way of balancing the layers did as well. It
seems however Sanghi is a victim of the success of his previous work that I and
others have compared this book to those before. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book is however still a good read and I must appreciate
the amount of effort and time put in by the author in the research required to
write such a book. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This review is part of
the <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews">Book Review Program</a> by <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/">BlogAdda</a>. Wherein members of the program can receive
free books as long as they commit to post a review of it. Due to my own lack of
energy owing to some projects I hadn’t blogged for quite some time. I knew that a
review would be required when I got in to the program and my lack of energy is
no excuse for the review to come so late that BlogAdda had to follow up on me.
My sincerest apologies for that. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-12274266082020662562012-09-20T23:00:00.000+05:302012-09-20T23:00:01.692+05:30Reading<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are advantages of having friends who share your
passion for reading and among other things you never run out of <s>good</s>
great things to read. Today one such friend <a href="http://phoenixritu.com/">Ritu</a> shared an article on facebook (which
she was kind enough to tag me in). It is
<a href="http://www.theatlanticwire.com/entertainment/2012/08/what-kind-book-reader-are-you-diagnostics-guide/56337/">“Which kind of book reader are you?” by the Atlantic Wire.</a> The article goes on
to describe different types of readers and their reading habits. Are you the
one who will purchase books and then end up with a backlog or are the one who
has them only to display them? And so on... What about me, do you ask? (Well you are reading
this, and should you continue to read this entry I gather you are interested in
it.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have picked up books for various reasons. Quite a few of these
books are in my cupboard because Landmark (the book store) is exceedingly close
to my apartment. So every few days I find myself strolling in to the store
because I ran out of stationery supplies, or need something for work, or am
drawn to the large number of books there. If there is a sale I pick up some of the books
I have been wanting to read and since there’s a neat deal I stock them in my
cupboard. Sometimes it is because I visit the store out of boredom or habit,
and flipping through the books I find something that amuses or touches me. Then
of course there are the recommendations from friends. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This has lead to a huge backlog of reading for me. Books
that have been read for only a few pages before they were put on the table and
then inside the dark forbidding chambers of my cupboard because I got busy with
something, or found something else to read. Evil, I know. This is not just
fiction but books on engineering and science that I picked up because I enjoyed
reading about the subject, some management books that I refer when work gets
boring and philosophy for my desire to study more upon it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now I am reading ‘Krishna Key’ because I got it for
review (yeay) from Blogadda.com. Since I am to post a review on it for receiving
said book, ‘Fifty shades darker’ has been put on hold along (because I enjoyed
reading ‘Fifty shades of Grey’, and wanted to continue the story). There is
also ‘The Toyota Way’ which I am reading to learn different approaches that I
can use at work. There is ‘God is not Great’ lying on the table as well which I
had picked for light reading (and mom got scandalized).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there are a select few unique books that have not been
completed for particular reasons. I received ‘The girl who kicked the hornet’s
nest’ as a gift from Ishaan Lalit, and I read the first three chapters before I
felt that there was too much a back story being referred to. Wikipedia
enlightened me with the fact that since it is book 3 of a trilogy I got the
feeling of missing the story. Although I thought the story would be revealed in
detailed flashbacks, I have kept it aside for after I finish its chronological
predecessors. There is ‘Love, Loss and Acceptance’ by <a href="http://shailsnest.com/">Shail Di</a> which I am
keeping aside for reading when I can do its verses justice. And finally there is Thermodynamics because I
can’t wrap my head around the change in heat of the room when an air
conditioner is turned on while a draft exists on the other side of the room.
The AC is on, it is cooler, I am thankful, please get lost. Maybe It has also
to do with the idea that I flunked the subject the first time I took it in
college. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And before signing off for this, I would like to tell you
about this little thing I have. I just love caressing and smelling books.
Sometimes I pick up books and ruffle through the pages and smell the air as the
pages flip by. The rustling noise and the sight of the pages go by is just so
wonderful. I don’t do it all my books, but one day the mood strikes to do so
and it always manages to make me sigh.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-42045322697921289952012-08-30T22:52:00.002+05:302012-08-30T22:52:38.936+05:30Same Pinch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I take the company
bus to work every day. Well every day that I wake up on time that is; otherwise
I have to request one of the senior managers who live around to give me a lift
in their car to which they comply. My stop is at a Domino’s near my house where
I catch the bus from. The other day I got up particularly early and instead of spending
time in the bath tub or sleeping I got ready, made myself some green tea and
left early so that I could wait at the stop and catch a read.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So there was
a group of kids nearby standing outside their school (on the way to my stop)
and since I didn’t have my ear phones on as I usually do I could hear what they
were talking as I passed. One of them ended up doing a ‘same pinch’ to the other.
To those of you unaware of it, this is what you do when someone has something
same as you do or does something same. Should you call dibs on it, you can
pinch the other person and say ‘Same pinch’. Kids in my time used to do that
often. I was in one of my better moods and the following conversation came to
my mind and I thought that I should you know, give it a shot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Hi, How are you?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: Fine, you?<br />
Me: So far so good. Do you have a boy friend?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: Umm.... No, why do you ask?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Neither do I... Same Pinch (in a voice
of glee)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: <awkward glance="glance"><o:p></o:p></awkward></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Now I have spoken
of this to only two of my female friends, both on chat, and they both LOLed at
it. This could be however for the fact that we were on chat, and they were
probably staring at the screen with a wonder as to why they haven’t gone
offline or invisible yet. Or maybe they just share my sense of humor. I gather
it’s that and that in person they wouldn’t beat the crap out of me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
On the way
to work in the bus, I could think of two other ways how this conversation could
lead to</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Do you have a boy friend?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: No, why do you ask?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Neither do I... Same Pinch (in a voice
of glee)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: Ah... Do you have a girl friend?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: No, Same pinch?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: No, but now you know why you don’t<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And the
other one:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Do you have a boy friend?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: Umm.... No, why do you ask?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: Neither do I... Same Pinch (in a voice
of glee)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>She: <laughing hard="hard">... Do you have a girl
friend?<o:p></o:p></laughing></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Me: No<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Together: SAME PINCH <and five="five" high="high"><o:p></o:p></and></i></div>
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-16371818804632854902012-08-26T23:03:00.003+05:302012-08-26T23:03:40.314+05:30I dream of death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone dreams, and some dreams are more memorable than
other. I dream loads and some of the most wonderful stuff (though not of
genies, not yet that is). While there
are dreams that are older and more memorable, I will however share with you one
that I had today in the morning as it one of the few dreams that I was able to
do things in; a lucid dream of sorts as I could talk and move as I pleased in
some cases.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was sitting in Landmark that is close to my place in
Baroda. I was comfortably seated on a couch and reading a book I had just
purchased while a cup of coffee lay on the table. Now I know that this landmark
doesn’t have a coffee joint in it anymore, but hey it’s a dream and I didn’t
want to nitpick on free coffee. I notice this man walk past by me towards the
washroom. I couldn’t help but think that I had seen him a couple of times
before. He was wearing a fedora hat and that is a rare thing, in India for the
least. So the dream me tries to remember, and has an image of him walking by my
mom’s house while I stood outside in the veranda talking to a neighbour. After
he comes out of the washroom I go and ask him if we have met before since he
seems familiar to me. The man nods and says that he is the angel of death and
that we have met a couple of times before. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Huh, angel of death? What are you doing in a book store
then?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Doing my job, taking people off my list to see that they
die.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is it now, you must show me how it works then.” And he
stared at me for a moment as if I had told something that he couldn’t
understand. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>For future reference
if you’re in my dream, and if I tell you to show me how something works, you
will show me how it works. You’re in my dream, and well that is how I dream. I
will extend the same courtesy to you should I ever come in to your dreams.
Although I don’t know how it works if you dream of me. Would I be lucid too?
But you know I lose all memory of it once you wake. Anyway, moving on</i>...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, I have names in my book as part of a list that I must
ensure die.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So how do you do that?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I strike their name of, and think of a way they must die
and they die.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, like that anime Death note I saw on Animax?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Manga too, they pretty much got the concept right.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Teach me, how it is done.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“See that woman over there? Her name is Radha Varma. Now
this is her name on my list, and I strike it off. Now I want her to buy a DVD
for her grand kids and watch it with them over a good meal. When she sleeps she
must think that it is just some indigestion, but it will be a heart attack
instead.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there was a montage of us going around take people
off his list. So while we were sitting in a place and I was going through his
book, I saw my name on a page with an ellipse around it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell me, why my name is written here like that. What does
it mean?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A circled name means that I was supposed to knock off the
person, but didn’t”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So why did you let
me go that time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Six times in all, I had orders from up top that told me not
to do so.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Like a close shave you mean? But I don’t remember six
instances like that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Only two, others were orders. A word of advice, you really
need to start working out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dude, what the hell?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then he smiled and I woke up from my dream. It was
around 0830 in the morning because I check for my mobile and spectacles when I
get up. I called for mom and she was in the other room sweeping. So I told her
that I dreamt of a ‘Yamdoot’ (the closest Hindi translation of an angel of
death I could think of) and that he was told to let me off six times so far,
and that he asked me to work out. She looks at me (probably thinking why of all
possible kids, she had to get me) and tells me that I will listen to a Yamdoot,
but not her. I had a sassy reply ready but seeing the broom in her hand, I did
not push my luck for a seventh time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I wonder if I can write my training as angel of death on
my CV. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-78915271218658969572012-08-23T21:48:00.002+05:302012-08-23T21:48:54.474+05:30Journey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a higher purpose in my few visits than to meet you.
It is the journey itself that is more exhilarating than the end destination. Time becomes flexible in my travels to meet
you as I think of the time we have spent together. Not the conversations we
had, but how they make me feel & how I hope they would make you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People say that love is blind, and that when in love people
don’t see other things. I never could understand it, and it never happens to
me. I become conscious of everything around me. Of the wind that blows across
my face as I sit near the window of the train and how I remember you adjusting the
windswept bronze hair away from your eyes. Of the road on which the car runs and
our drives on it while your body jerked when there were potholes while your
bosom which reminds me of parabola and its equations jiggles on such roads. Of
the bread that you ate, and how your lips spread into a smile of delight after
they contorted themselves on it while you nibbled on the bread in glee. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
My face betrays the high that I feel when I see your face for the first time on
our meets. It makes me think of how obvious I become and wonder if you notice
it. I like to notice things when we meet. The motion of your lips, the force
with which you grip the spoon while you eat, the angle your legs make, and the
curves of your body. How the expressions in your eyes change when I say something
that makes you laugh, how you grip the handle of the door when you want to open
it and clench your fingers about it. Gentle, yet determined. As if the door
becomes an extension of yourself when you touch it, and there is no effort that
you are applying to open it more than the effort you would take to move a step
ahead yourself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I like it when you start describing about what you do at
work. How you can get lost in explaining something because of how much enjoyed
being part of it. Part of creating something, of discovering something that was
till yesterday unknown to us and how you unravelled it. The joy of being good
at it, and not being sorry but passionate about it because it is what you want
to do and how you want to do and that no other reason would suffice. Makes me
think of how I feel like after a particularly tiring and productive day at work
gets done. That I would want to be with you and talk to you about it. I wouldn’t
want to teleport to your side to do that, no it would be too quick. I had this
idea once that I would have something like Tony Stark’s armour as part of my case,
which I would wear and fly up to meet you. Or maybe a blue lantern ring, that I
could use to fly so that I can even feel the wind blow across my face while I
fly to meet you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of these days I would like to take up one such trip to
meet you, and then not meet you at all. I would just enjoy the journey and go
to one of the places we would have, and sit all alone and amused at the possibilities
the moment presented. I could continue sitting there, and over a cup of coffee
write something like I am writing right now, or maybe through a stroke of
chance you would come in and see me and call me stupid for not telling you that
I had come. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think of the moments just before leaving you. Of how I
wish that time actually were that flexible, and I could hold on to that moment when
we both embrace the finality of it, that we would both have to leave. I gather
that since neither of us have such a control over time, we continue to
appreciate such moments. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I. You. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-86938210436766909102012-08-17T18:30:00.000+05:302012-08-17T18:30:23.814+05:30Riches<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was not born in to a poor family, but yet I know what it
feels like to be poor, and rich. Well it depends upon on what time of the month
you’re talking of. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was never brought up in poverty, it’s just that things
were either worth spending on, or not. So if something was needed it was
bought, otherwise it was not thought of. The family consists of only mom and
me, and back then she was the only earning in the family. Some time before
college started she resigned from her job. It was a combination of the commute,
work issues and her ailing health that lead to the decision. Besides, she had
put in enough money in savings to put me through college. So it seemed like a
sensible decision. Now that we look back, it still is. Even in college there
was this certificate course I took up for learning Pro/E (which now that I
think didn’t teach me any more than what a friend who knows how to use it), but
I remember talking to mum about it and saying that it would add ‘weight’ to my
resume (Sigh, pity) and the next day she asked me how much it was worth and
gave that much to me and told me to pay the fees with it if I was interested in
doing it. Similarly when it became necessary for me to purchase a laptop, she
bought me one. Although I do remember, for the lack of a better word, nagging
her for a new phone shortly after college started. I ended up purchasing a
Nokia N72, a good phone, but a bad way of acquiring it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So after I got my interview cleared and before job started,
I thought that when salary starts coming in I should divide it in five parts.
One part would be my own allowance and I spend it how I want without answering
anyone. Second part would be an allowance for mom and likewise no questions
asked on what she does with it. Third part would be for the expenses of the
house and fourth would be saved up for something like a future education or a
car or a house, whatever would catch my fancy. The fifth would go towards an
emergency fund for those unforeseen times. If you look at it, the so called
planning makes sense. It started out well, before as the use of past tense
suggests, it went to nothingness. I have touched on this before, but soon I
developed more expensive tastes and lesser inhibition. So my love for coffee
would find me making daily visits to Barista for multiple cups of coffee (oh
and they make some great coffee), cheese burst pizzas, gym to burn off the
pizza and so on. Soon it developed in to a habit, and month ends would be
accompanied by a decreasing availability of funds. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometime last year I got in the inevitable discussion of
finances, and seeing my state of things and some of the poor decisions I had
taken she asked questions that I could not properly answer as to where all that
money really went. It was of course a not so neat discussion (forgive my use of
the euphemism). Of course some time afterwards, better sense prevailed and I religiously
siphon off money every month for saving. Sometimes it is not as much as I would
like it, not as much as mom would want it, but then again I am now ‘richer’
than I was a year ago. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My so called improved habits are however a result of
deliberate and conscious decisions. Some of them every day. Do I still want to
go and have loads of coffee, pick up every book, movie and game that has my
fancy? At the back of my mind I do, and it is a decision with the thought that “No,
that money must be saved for something else. Something larger”</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-63361460176284522872012-07-15T22:13:00.000+05:302012-07-15T22:13:46.928+05:30Indecent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was standing near the hospital entrance waiting for the
rains to stop. The sudden rains had brought things to a jam in the city. Since
he hadn’t brought an umbrella he couldn’t walk and the traffic was too slow
moving to take a cab. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and the
lighter. Out of habit he ran his fingers along the length of the stick before
inhaling it in before flicking the lighter open and lighting it up. He hadn’t
been smoking for a while, but today he had remembered to pick up the pack and
lighter from the drawer in the office up in the hospital. He was feeling tensed,
scared for himself and for her. He half had a mind to call her up to check up
on her, but he had already done that a couple of minutes back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ambulance came in to a screeching stop near the
entrance, and the orderlies rushed towards it as two patients were brought out
of it. It was a young man and a woman both seemed to be in their early
twenties. Both seemed to have been beaten up pretty bad. The boy had bruises
and assault marks all over him and seemed to be bleeding from his mouth. His
shirt had been ripped apart half way through and he winced every time someone
touched him to support him while he was being moved on a stretcher. The girl
seemed to have had it worse. She was beaten up as well, but had bite and
scratch marks all over her naked body. It wasn’t that she wasn’t covered up,
there was a sheet covering her body but her clothes were missing, and the sheet
slipped when she was lifted to be put on the stretcher. One of the female
nurses stepped back when she was being wheeled through along with him to the
emergency room. He threw the half smoked cigarette and put on his apron as he
ran through with the stretchers, ordering the orderlies to prep the room and
the supplies he would need. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He and the team tried to work the best they could through
the two hours that followed, but the girl did not make it through. Apart from
the marks visible on her body, she had suffered two broken ribs, severe trauma
on the head and her vagina. She had been raped. Gang raped, brutally. She had
tried to put up a fight like anyone would do defend themselves, but was over
powered by the men who had gone down on her. Turn by turn. The boy it seems had
tried to intervene to help her but was beaten up brutally by the same men. He
would however go on to live. He was standing still standing there in room slightly
taken aback at the condition of the two. He was pulling of the gloves off his
hand to wash them when a man came running in. “Please doctor, please save Riya.
She is the only daughter I have. She has
been through enough for a life time. Please doctor, please save her!” He didn’t
know what to say. Almost robotically he started “I am sorry sir, but we did all
that we could. I am afraid the injuries she has had are far too severe. She has had too much blood loss and I am
afraid there is nothing we can do to save her.”
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The father kept on speaking as he tugged at his scrubs. He
didn’t hear a word of what was being told, but could only see the expressions
on his face as it contorted with pain, anger and helplessness. An orderly came
in and lead the weeping father out. He walked out after them. A group had gathered
outside the room, probably friends and family of the two. He kept hearing while
he stood there. It seemed that the boy and girl were engaged, and had gone to a
bar in the city to celebrate. They had run in to a rowdy group of men when they
were leaving the bar. The same group proceeded to beat them before proceeding
to rape the girl. He couldn’t stand there anymore as more people tried to ask
him if anything could be done for the girl. He changed into his clothes and took
a cab to home. It was early morning now, and she was still sleeping when he
came in. He did not wake her up but just lay next to her and kept staring at
her till he dozed off to sleep. When he woke up in the evening she was
predictably not there. She would have gone to her shift in the hospital but he
still called her up to check up on her. He felt a sense of relief when she
answered. She had come to know of the case too, and asked him to come and check
up on the boy was sleeping now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He took an hour to get ready, had a long hot bath to come to
his senses before he left for the hospital. The police were there in the boy’s
room with both the families when he entered. <br />
“Yes officer, I had kissed her before the three of them started calling names
at us.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What time was it? Were you drinking?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It was slightly past eleven, I remember paying the bill around
eleven. We had been drinking, yes, but only a beer or two while the match was
on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Any other description of the three people who raped her?”
He winced when he heard that word. “No, all that I remember of them I have
already told the officer who came in just before you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Very well, the bar has a CCTV camera near its entrance
where you were attacked; we will try to pull up some useful footage from it. I
am deeply sorry for your loss. I understand that you were recently engaged, and
you have my word that we will try all we can to catch the men responsible for
this. Doctor, will you please come with us, we need to just go through your
statements as well.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He left with the cops to give his statements in a different
room. The officer had the presence of mind to not take his statements in front
of the families thinking that they would it hurt them even more. He went down
to her section to meet her once. He waited for her to come out of a patient’s
room. The two of them did not talk much, but just sat together for a while
before she went off on her rounds again, and he to the boy’s room.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why were you drinking and kissing her on the street? Have you
no sense of shame, how to behave decently?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Decency, you ask me to behave decently father? So it was
indecent in kissing her as we walked out of the bar? Just a small innocent
kiss. Yes, that was indecent of me. Do you know what they did to her?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I do.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You weren’t there when it happened. The three of them were
drunk silly. They called us names, and when we walked away, they ran after us.
We called for help but there was no one nearby.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They beat me first while one of them held her. She tried to
fight as well, but the guy holding her, he pulled her hair and kept slapping
her. When they were done with me they went on to rape her. She fought, but they
bit her, punched her and one after other raped her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had only kissed her, but they stripped her naked and beat
her before raping her on a street. Where is the decency in that? Where is the
decency in that?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone went silent. He asked them to leave the room so
that the nurse could change his dressings. The nurse was not due for another
hour, but he felt that the boy could do with this little comfort. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know doctor, I loved her and she loved me back. We were
so happy to have been engaged. Even our parents approved of it. I still
remember the kiss she gave me that night. Her lips were so soft and moist. I
still remember it like an old memory that you keep thinking of, because she
always kissed me like that. I don’t think I have the will to live much longer.
But I must tell you this because I am told you tried to save her. You did more
for her than the rest of the world could. That night we had planned to save up to
buy a house for ourselves to movie in to when we would get married. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still cannot understand why they did this to us. Why do
they hate us so much? Ours was an act of love, why did they do this to her...to
anyone...”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hush now, you need to be quiet and rest. The nurse will be
on her way soon. I will give you a dose of sedative to put you to sleep. You need
more rest to recover.” He gave him a shot before calling the nurse in. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was standing near the hospital entrance waiting for the
rains to stop. The sudden rains had brought things to a jam in the city. Since
he hadn’t brought an umbrella he couldn’t walk and the traffic was too slow
moving to take a cab. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and the
lighter. Out of habit he ran his fingers along the length of the stick before
inhaling it in before flicking the lighter open and lighting it up. He hadn’t
been smoking for a while, but today he had remembered to pick up the pack and
lighter from the drawer in the office up in the hospital. He was feeling tensed,
scared for himself and for her. He half had a mind to call her up to check up
on her, but he had already done that a couple of minutes back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boy had taken a blade and slit his wrists in the
bathroom. He was dead minutes before his family had noticed that he was taking
too long in the bathroom. Today was his funeral. It seemed odd that it should rain
today in the winters. He finished smoking his cigarette before he threw the
stub on the ground and crushed it with his heel. He pulled up the collars of his
jacket before walking off. He was going to attend the funeral.</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6606226175252672056.post-69061684059678877452012-06-17T15:05:00.002+05:302012-06-17T15:05:27.052+05:30Two days ago<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two days ago was Friday, and Fridays are fun. I like the
notion of weekends, where in you can kick back and enjoy the fruits of the week
that went by. I didn’t understand it when Mom tried explaining to me when I was
younger that I cannot enjoy something if I have not worked for it. Normally
Friday night is spent catching up on the latest movie in the cinema with
friends and chatting away till the wee hours. This Friday I came back from work
a bit late due to some trials that I had to do to understand something. I have
this huge bathtub in this new apartment I have rented with a friend and I
thoroughly enjoy it. I lay in it as it filled up with cold relaxing water. Since
it was a particularly tiring day, I filled it up till only my nose was above
the water so that I could breathe. It is a wonderful feeling, everything just
goes silent. Then slowly you can hear your own body, your heart and lungs pumping,
the blood flowing. Soon the environment follows and I can hear sounds from the
home below: a trace of the song the kid is head banging to, clanging of some
vessels and I wonder what is being cooked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This Friday most of the friends that live nearby were away
for some reason, but I was not alone. I spend the time talking away with a
friend on the phone. (Such a wonderful thing the phone is, I take it for
granted some times. No matter where I am, I can message, talk, surf and do many
more things with it. A wonderful thing about the people I like is that I can
talk to them for hours. Sometimes it’s just being with them, not talking, just
being.) Talking away till either of us feels sleepy or bored. Friday evening
was also spent drinking ice cold water as the cold wind blew in from the
window. I first noticed the ice cold water in The Big Bang Theory in one of the
episodes where they are eating at the cheese cake factory. A glass of water filled
with cubes of ice and then water in whatever space is left. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what did you do two days ago?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is response to <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/209032889129479/">WEEK #57 (6-17-12 to 6-23-12): Two Days Ago at GBE 2</a></span></span></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00061415237966688481noreply@blogger.com11