tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13540436354340175212024-02-07T08:58:41.131+05:30Confessions of a life-a-holicI would rather make my own way, than lead or follow the crowd.Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-70353375206689103042012-08-15T12:39:00.003+05:302012-08-15T12:39:56.250+05:30Sex and the City Challenge- The Monogamists<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Has the world reached a stage where monogamy has become extinct?<br />
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I remember writing in one, or probably more than one post, about men sleeping around with innumerable girls and termed as a '<i>macho-man</i>', while girls doing the same activity with men are termed as sluts and whores and prostitutes. But has the concept of being with one guy for the rest of your life vanished?<br />
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I see so many girls around me who claim to have boyfriends, but go around with n-number of guys. Please don't get me wrong, but I do not have the mind frame of the 60's, where girls are not supposed to talk to guys. I have lots of friends who are guys, and in fact, I personally feel that guys make lot more better friends than girls themselves. But, you know, the intimacy you show to that special guy, the physical love and mental space showered on and by him has practically just vanished.<br />
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Many at times people have told me that they do so to become cool and sexy. But is it really sexy to make out and love with more than one guy? Isn't that cheating on your guy? Well even if your guy is the jack that he is meant to be, would it be fair to yourself to behave in the same way?<br />
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Ok, maybe I am from the 60's, or at least the 80's where it was cool to have one guy and not-so-cool to sleep around with more than one. But I could be wrong. Maybe... Maybe not... Actually no... I am not...<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-12752113759076285462012-08-13T22:31:00.001+05:302012-08-14T22:44:39.130+05:30Sex and the city<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbfNeR9j-IT-i9oBvpt6SAkLj0Zu7sayGpE1LT6-9SisnfamZeU38ZYDd2V_Xp395CF5Ut2t6eSJyn7R7IF1T-vRkecZX1ZqQAXhnfk2xmr1Re5kEexbS9J6yScbug8Absmk9HIkIeME/s1600/220px-Sex_and_the_City_The_Movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbfNeR9j-IT-i9oBvpt6SAkLj0Zu7sayGpE1LT6-9SisnfamZeU38ZYDd2V_Xp395CF5Ut2t6eSJyn7R7IF1T-vRkecZX1ZqQAXhnfk2xmr1Re5kEexbS9J6yScbug8Absmk9HIkIeME/s200/220px-Sex_and_the_City_The_Movie.jpg" width="152" /></a>I have been <strike>very</strike>, sorry, extremely inactive in this wonderful world of blogging, and somehow I feel I have lost the entire love I had with words. It was a very disheartening realization, and sitting on my bed watching the Sex and the city series on my laptop I decided that I would challenge myself with something quite difficult.<br />
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I have been almost an illiterate when it came to the S** language, and I have been a big jerk to always laugh at every pervasive jokes my friends cracked without knowing the meaning! And so I have decided that I would write an article everyday on the title of each episode in the series. It could be anything from a general opinion on the topic, a fictional story, an anecdote or of any other genre.<br />
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It is basically to have some fun combined with my love for writing. Hope you guys like it and would really really love those sexy comments from you all!!<br />
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Cheers!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-79316242690468036992012-08-12T15:52:00.000+05:302012-08-12T15:52:45.133+05:30A walk by the beach<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
With the sun still half asleep and the cool water splashing
on the soft sands, life seems to be a lot more serene and beautiful. A stroll
on the beachside with the water hitting you to the appropriate level awakens
you to a bright, happy day.<br />
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This morning few friends and myself visited a lazy and quiet
beach close to college, and all of us would agree that it was the best way to
start the week. Splashing the water at each other, clicking pictures till our
hearts were contended and just lazing around was how this Sunday kick started. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lvQszajyJyd8EeC1HN-LRplxRvg15O06A4jsWVPd8jwSJDWw15YoEXNKdw_kdz8xpoqA7d0qw5WnoBqFPuhyphenhyphen35t-tdzl3uE6bg9-E2V6ezXdB7GV0IBHm7WnG00qpBUt3f3ey_jukcI/s1600/Marina-Beach-in-Chennai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lvQszajyJyd8EeC1HN-LRplxRvg15O06A4jsWVPd8jwSJDWw15YoEXNKdw_kdz8xpoqA7d0qw5WnoBqFPuhyphenhyphen35t-tdzl3uE6bg9-E2V6ezXdB7GV0IBHm7WnG00qpBUt3f3ey_jukcI/s200/Marina-Beach-in-Chennai.jpg" width="200" /></a>To think about a lost loved one, to re-visit those moments
spent with a lover you miss, to just play with the sand remembering one’s
childhood, to collect shells and take them back home to, probably, just
beautify your house, are few of those lovely things we did there. I could see
the excitement on everyone’s faces when they saw a starfish; something they
claim they had never seen before. To pose to a zoom lens the ‘poster’ way, with
each of us looking at different directions made us feel like stars. Seeing a
man perform two somersaults at a stretch was an awe we enjoyed with a wide open
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I am sure a lot many of you would have enjoyed strolling by
the beach. There definitely is no better place to be when you want to be alone
or have a good time, to enjoy nature’s beauty at its best.</div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-2129997688410301872012-07-15T04:56:00.000+05:302012-07-15T04:56:07.018+05:30Anger unveiled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is 4:43 and my eyes are wide awake. The entire world would be sleeping at this moment. Well, atleast the people in those parts where it is the night time. Obviously, because isn't that what people are supposed to do at night? Well guess what people at my college in one of the South Indian states are doing.... Any guesses?? I am sure you can do better than that guys... Ok fine let me tell you...<br />
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They are picking Pepsi bottles and cigarette buds from the campus garden. Why? Because the entire college; and when I mean by entire I actually mean entire except for a very few countable handful ones (which thankfully or the other way round includes me as well) was drunk and high to the maximum level possible. It was a Saturday night so '<i>daru</i>' (Indian local word used for the upper class Drinks) is expected. Infact I did expect the college to be drinking and smoking the night, but not even in my wildest of dreams did I imagine that it would go up to this extend. It has been exactly a week since I have joined college, and me being the 'social animal' that I am, I didn't know three forth of the crowd's names, especially boys. Neither did they make any effort to raise a hand. But I remember nearly five guys coming up to me and asking me my name and place. In fact when I asked one of them his name and place in return, he was hesitant of whether he was from Bombay or some other place starting with a Bom! And another girl kept chanting 'I am not drunk, I am not drunk' while dancing when she was supposed to be walking. People were that high.<br />
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I do not have an issue with people drinking or smoking. What the hell re! It isn't like people are going to pay heeds to anything that I say against something they are most familiar with, let alone drinking and smoking. I might be from a small town in Kerala, but I too have people and friends who drink and smoke. But I don't understand why do they go to such a level that they lose complete consciousness of themselves or their whereabouts. I am just very irritated, angry, depressed and sober right now, and I had to vomit it out somewhere since all of my other friends were busying puking shit! And what better place than my very own private space where God knows who reads my blog!<br />
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P.S: I am in no mood to find a picture for the article. You definitely do not want to see the pictures from college. Spare yourself the horror!<br />
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-33330378646523381942012-05-22T17:35:00.001+05:302012-05-22T17:35:24.869+05:30Marriage- for oneself or for the society??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was nearing my teenage, I was scared I would turn out to be a horrible, uncontrollable freak. And you know what? I turned out to be exactly that! Sometimes when I go back in time, and think of those moments when I used to have those dreaded fights with Amma, I imagine how she put up with me. Trust me, if I had such a daughter I would have gone crazy by the time she realized she was just in a pathetically beautifully stage of life!<br />
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Now that I am about to cross the dreaded 20's, I have this feeling I am going to be as unbearable as I was when I was in my teens. The only difference? When I was 13, I created chaos on every tiny thing; and now I am going to create havoc on just one single topic- marriage!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4RgxGXe6xzT3D3zXZPr_wh-XgTM4DuLK7En-shrb5nKqL1fcI6kYSniSw4_osbpY2NQzSBcJrJ0Lnlw3f0lmxVWJpOrw-ooXaH5SHmy31JzNoM5sPhBT2Vvkgdi-yUu88sjBs8WEUyY/s1600/Indian+Marriages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4RgxGXe6xzT3D3zXZPr_wh-XgTM4DuLK7En-shrb5nKqL1fcI6kYSniSw4_osbpY2NQzSBcJrJ0Lnlw3f0lmxVWJpOrw-ooXaH5SHmy31JzNoM5sPhBT2Vvkgdi-yUu88sjBs8WEUyY/s200/Indian+Marriages.jpg" width="200" /></a>Today I read Aamir Khan's column in The Hindu, which was very coincidentally on marriage. And I was thoroughly surprised reading it, because it felt like he was writing an article on my views on marriage! I never really knew how to express my feelings on this 'law of nature phase' (as Achan puts it) and so his column made it so much easier to at least tell Amma. She read it, and guess what her reaction was! "I don't think most of this is possible!"<br />
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Why not? Why is it impossible to enjoy a subtle, simple marriage with just the two people who are about to tie the knot and those who really mean a lot to either of them? Why is it not possible to put off with the food and the shining ornaments, when that money can very well be put to much better use? Why is it that one has to choose a partner based on his/her family background? Are you marrying his/her family or the bride/groom them-self? Why is it an assurance that if the family is good the person you are to spend the rest of your lie with is also good? Can't other factors affect one's behaviour? And what if the person you have just met over a cup of coffee has split personalities; with the good gentleman in front of his parents (and you for that matter), while he is a horrible drug addict behind your back? Who is the actual self? And what surety do you have that he could change with your love? Accept it, this is no fairytale, and no Prince is going to come on a horseback with flowing hair! Ok maybe there could be the flowing hair, with all the new shampoos and costly barbers! And what if the girl you have fallen for in the first look is not the <i>sati savathri</i> types as you had wanted? What would you do? Would that beautiful, well mannered family help you out? But what exactly is the use of anyone helping you out, when ultimately, it's over?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKZzpnbZ6OAafNOzq19_R1P7sp6sh_EsOwnIbMTkLq7ejinXAUwzLD77oUjpbXsP4UZR-yML8m9pGGugUsScO55Zr-xoMJrwcVjcF-uCUTfofOlikraq_V4tDU6PJ7fs8WYzT1r2jGaY/s1600/india_wedding_divorc_25009s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKZzpnbZ6OAafNOzq19_R1P7sp6sh_EsOwnIbMTkLq7ejinXAUwzLD77oUjpbXsP4UZR-yML8m9pGGugUsScO55Zr-xoMJrwcVjcF-uCUTfofOlikraq_V4tDU6PJ7fs8WYzT1r2jGaY/s200/india_wedding_divorc_25009s.jpg" width="200" /></a>I remember Achan recently telling me, or rather agreeing to me having a love marriage! Oh-oh hold on, on one condition. Love a person from a good family background who is financially well off. And do what? Hug the money and go off to sleep while your newly wed husband is off at a pub drinking to glory? I remember he showing me an example as well. One of my aunty's aunty's aunty's.... son married a girl from a well known family, whom I met for the first time recently! Guess what? She didn't even lend me a smile! So much for the 'family background'! I would rather prefer a person from a not so renowned family who I would love to meet a second time. So why exactly does a person want his/her daughter/son to marry a person from a well off family? So that the hard earned father-in-law's money would be handy during tough times? (I wonder what good for nothing person the guy would be!) Or is it so that they can flaunt about it to the outside world! (I am sorry, but will this society be of any help during a time of crisis? Oh, I am sorry they would be too busy criticizing on our mistakes!)<br />
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So back to my title- Do we marry to spend the rest of your life with a loving and caring person whom YOU love or whom your father-mother-uncle-aunty-maternal grandparents-paternal grandparents-neighbour uncle-neighbour aunty's mother-neighbour's friend's friend likes? Off late I have completely started hating the entire scenario that precedes marriage, only because of all the hungama of seeing whether something written on two papers match, and then there is the 'girl-seeing' ceremony where it actually means the parents seeing either side of the person in question and then that's it!! How in any God's name does a person like another person in one meeting?<br />
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Ok I think I should stop! So stop it! STOP IT!!!!<br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-76080545048220311832012-05-20T18:50:00.000+05:302012-05-20T18:50:19.552+05:30Is our culture going to drains?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am sure a large number of us Indians would have been involved, or at the least heard, in the 'We are losing out on the essence of our culture' and 'The Westerners have truly left behind a lot of themselves and their culture ruining our younger generation' talk. Recently I read an article on a person's opinion on the topic and I somehow found that I too agree with him, more or less.<div>
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No matter how much we try to ape the West, there will always be an Indianness to it- is what I feel on the topic. We could be as broad-minded as them to see a movie with compromising scenes along with out children. But I wonder how many of them would actually not mind their own children hugging a person from the opposite sex. Not to mention if the girl is at a marriageable age! I know quite a few people, girls, who drink and get their head intoxicated with so much of booze that they are not very much in their senses. Personally, I am not for it. Maybe I am old-fashioned or non-modern, but I wonder why most of these very same 'modern' girls do all of this behind their parent's backs. Which very well shows that no matter how open or modern they may be, there is still the Indianness within them that pulls them away from telling their parents that "Yes Dad I drink, and I love it!" And I wonder how many of the parents, who consider themselves nothing short of being a replica of his/her American boss would like hearing that from their child.</div>
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I don't understand what is wrong in girls wearing jeans and a short top when she is out with her friends! Dude, what modernity are you talking about when you can't accept and respect the fact that that girl could very well be your sister or daughter. When you can wear low-waist jeans that literally grab for their lives from falling, what is it that makes your eyes pop out when girls wear 'decent' clothes covering everything that has to be covered? So are you modern? Well no I don't think so. I think that 'quality' to stare at a girl even she wears a salwar, is Indianness enough!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So is our culture going to the drains? I don't have an answer to that, but personally I feel the practice of blaming other cultures for the same is just an excuse for all the ill-treatments happening in the society. Don't all cultures have their good and bad sides? Yes, English is the world wide known language and no youngster can survive without being fluent in that language. It is a fact and one has to accept it! Very ironically and unfortunately that happened to be the 'mother tongue' of the Westerners! So accept the fact and thrive towards achieving it. It is the good side of that culture, and if you continue cribbing about the ill-effects other cultures have done to ours, then God save you! Because personally I feel, there is no one else to blame other than oneself. It is you who is ready to adopt the appalling standards of cultures. So bear it yourself. Don't blame someone else for your own actions!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx6JpcRz3bdpJrYxk7S0GKch-uCm0gWMHN1HmSPEm-tqxmTmLV8TfcZJTvym6502YYiFpI0tTE6OtUAWrNTsPDTUdQAr0DFLy27uJ1jbKtiLh9eC1mlgPCFXWzDkt4JQ07sJlAKTms_I/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx6JpcRz3bdpJrYxk7S0GKch-uCm0gWMHN1HmSPEm-tqxmTmLV8TfcZJTvym6502YYiFpI0tTE6OtUAWrNTsPDTUdQAr0DFLy27uJ1jbKtiLh9eC1mlgPCFXWzDkt4JQ07sJlAKTms_I/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-67401441407603701542012-05-19T07:33:00.001+05:302012-05-19T07:33:49.910+05:30An apology and a promise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever been in a situation where you have had tonnes of topics to write on, but you just wouldn't let yourself to sit down and write your heart out? Well that was exactly what my life was all about for the past God knows when!<br />
<br />
Being bribed..Getting admission in one of the most reputed colleges in India...All the tension and weirdness that followed writing the examination and attending the interview and before the admission was announced...The feeling of having your parents with you every single minute of your life...A trip to a fabulous chilly place when compared to the scorching heat at the present place...Not to mention the cute people I met there!!! were just a few of the topics I wanted to pour my heart out on. But it was like a hatred towards words, I just <s>couldn't</s> wouldn't sit down to mesmerize my beautiful readers with my even more beautiful stories!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_897Q-QFMSCjnpi0g6bBGhG7PvnBX-gzp_-kU8DS9J3tAzdJ_5cRVplUeHVYjQmufbKzacFhP6rHrrJVvJlfUQQBbyz1ruhtD-HVpy7p6jccSTZuWUX6zeiiW784vmYt4a8Vu0ikvI4/s1600/Happy-Promise-Day+(8).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_897Q-QFMSCjnpi0g6bBGhG7PvnBX-gzp_-kU8DS9J3tAzdJ_5cRVplUeHVYjQmufbKzacFhP6rHrrJVvJlfUQQBbyz1ruhtD-HVpy7p6jccSTZuWUX6zeiiW784vmYt4a8Vu0ikvI4/s200/Happy-Promise-Day+(8).jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
Ok, so this is another new thing I have promised myself on. I have got to make myself understand that I am capable of whatever I really want to achieve. Self-confidence-nil!<br />
<br />
So here is the promise I have made around a zillion times! I will write on something, be it whatever random insane topic, everyday. You know why? Because I have a huge task and dream in front of me. And for that reality to be a dream, I have absolutely no time to laze around. So here's to a new beginning! CHEERS!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMcRQmrWThPUEhTtBs7VbbwLbUsavhXEc0oePhmYBQGPyUlX37c0950QWCShlrW08KlhWyOtLsmk1sT84n-3G462AG1uSdQ3k4tqIec-mjtWz1UQqbdNY1MpxaPGFgjEZuD2F4Pe6Gck/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMcRQmrWThPUEhTtBs7VbbwLbUsavhXEc0oePhmYBQGPyUlX37c0950QWCShlrW08KlhWyOtLsmk1sT84n-3G462AG1uSdQ3k4tqIec-mjtWz1UQqbdNY1MpxaPGFgjEZuD2F4Pe6Gck/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-68797167447544257022012-04-30T09:17:00.001+05:302012-04-30T09:17:21.357+05:30Death leaves none<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All those big shot, uberly super people, BEWARE!!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaol9S2gxiWj35L2TrBy3dWLqSTGCuxNtCmeWaQxSkqgLti9W2EBD_NtFHO11UdrO6dR7neoQEsg-Ur_3qbvLg7DLZg_mtlroU2gflBVdWWnH97ci2-w2aH7abzilNwzsptAW3OCaV7_k/s1600/tumblr_lcmhanUZeE1qezsn4o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaol9S2gxiWj35L2TrBy3dWLqSTGCuxNtCmeWaQxSkqgLti9W2EBD_NtFHO11UdrO6dR7neoQEsg-Ur_3qbvLg7DLZg_mtlroU2gflBVdWWnH97ci2-w2aH7abzilNwzsptAW3OCaV7_k/s200/tumblr_lcmhanUZeE1qezsn4o1_400.jpg" width="200" /></a>Because what awaits you, awaits all those poor slum dwellers, who you have tortured to the maximum possible. Surprised??<br />
But isn't it true?<br />
Death is the same for both the extremes.<br />
In front of death, there is no good or bad, first-class or poor, evil or superior.<br />
S/he is inevitable and irreplaceable.<br />
So enjoy the time given to you.<br />
But not at the expense of other's happiness...<br />
Because they too have the right to live and enjoy the very same life gifted to you.<br />
<br />
<br />
P.S: I don't really know how this post has come out, but I am just very moved by a person's death, who was close to my heart.<br />
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-71820716556039198292012-04-28T14:14:00.000+05:302012-04-28T14:14:53.615+05:30Tired of fighting? Learn to juggle!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There was this wonderful opportunity at company X where I
could have worked, had my husband allowed me to! If it wasn’t for my marine
engineer husband’s crave to have me at home during his four months of holiday,
I wouldn’t be sitting idle during the rest of the months when he is busy
working! Had my ex-fiancé been broader minded and allowed me to work along with
the men crowd, I would have been happily married by now!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
How many of us have or is going through such a situation
where we would love to work and earn a living for ourselves, but have kept
aside our dreams and aspirations for the happiness of our better halves? Women
have been known for their sacrificing abilities and many at times members of
the opposite gender tend to misunderstand their decisions as our happiness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQwAirz9pgtjamMdhaVg6lJ-JVWUnR_2DIlk0IP0WytgXaMlEMR8SO_-m7K8Jw24aKkj9umYS8-7izODohTLwsyXlPQlIAS384TCIQlaY3aYiUQG6nmjbdbMHgv2_xZO8piG_airukIY/s1600/argue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQwAirz9pgtjamMdhaVg6lJ-JVWUnR_2DIlk0IP0WytgXaMlEMR8SO_-m7K8Jw24aKkj9umYS8-7izODohTLwsyXlPQlIAS384TCIQlaY3aYiUQG6nmjbdbMHgv2_xZO8piG_airukIY/s1600/argue.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the same time how many of us have been in such a
situation where our husbands admire women who are financially and
professionally independent? Not to forget that these women are in no way related
to them! Feel inferior? Does our inner voice cry, “You are incapable!”? Scream
aloud the song, ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mein karoon toh saala
character deela hain</i>’, and it would fit perfectly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So how exactly can you- the ‘love of their life’- calm down
the men folk when you lay your neatly pedicured, nail painted slender legs on
to the work field?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sole and life breaching reason is the lack of trust the
men folk have in us. The solution? Do learn to take things with a pinch of
salt. Do not take the “I don’t trust you” dialogue in the literal sense.
Haven’t you had that ‘special’ moment when you doubt your husband when he is on
the phone with a lady colleague? Men too have the freedom to hesitate such a
moment in their life. Gain their trust. Spend some time with him and make him
realize how important this job offer is to you and how it would help both of
you financially. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But in the chaos of working, do not forget to spend that
quality time your husband loves! No matter how modern life could get, any
hungry, tired man would love to get back to a house where his wife welcomes him
with a warm smile and hug along with a table of his favourite dishes. Sounds
tough and tiring, doesn’t it? Whoever coined the proverb, ‘there is no gain
without pain’, was completely true to the last dot!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeuVHlqIt9BNPx2sUmJkUg2VbGkW9GGHapqIsM79BPhzDR7uPvnGxc2fLbaBmpS1-Nv2b8YrU6bTRZVGWzP8g3PfYg5_48dWQNzO6nMMLFk_G7fzC4-wIja69LWrHuMPMCBQrWpIXBDs/s1600/proud-woman-in-office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeuVHlqIt9BNPx2sUmJkUg2VbGkW9GGHapqIsM79BPhzDR7uPvnGxc2fLbaBmpS1-Nv2b8YrU6bTRZVGWzP8g3PfYg5_48dWQNzO6nMMLFk_G7fzC4-wIja69LWrHuMPMCBQrWpIXBDs/s200/proud-woman-in-office.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Jugglers are not meant to be confined to the circus. A woman
is known to be the queen of juggling; mastering the art of being a daughter,
sister, wife, mother, home-maker, workaholic all together. So do remember your
role as a wife and mother along-with the workaholic title! My mother, for
example, was a super awesome mother and a star at her office. I am sure many of
yours were too! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well it all sounds a work of the superwoman, doesn’t it? But
with all the elements in place, your husband is sure to agree to you stepping
foot outside the house. After all behind every successful woman there is the
hand of a man as well!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UUrZ3BUa1mBlcIT3Gxg3g8gLmJQgO4UzjVfu4kRLRjS8mPJCTSaEleqPyXEV9CK5fSaokB_bm1van3qnURAup327Nq4CkaYqtcpjXg2n8-5MORfipuqo7qLMg7CFcqUmB3UfsyNRtFw/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UUrZ3BUa1mBlcIT3Gxg3g8gLmJQgO4UzjVfu4kRLRjS8mPJCTSaEleqPyXEV9CK5fSaokB_bm1van3qnURAup327Nq4CkaYqtcpjXg2n8-5MORfipuqo7qLMg7CFcqUmB3UfsyNRtFw/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-54814984711280319692012-04-28T14:09:00.000+05:302012-04-28T14:09:46.297+05:30A farewell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know that feeling when you sense a new beginning? A new
life which you are not very sure if it will be a pleasant one or a tough one? A
new start to a phase, which you are not very sure if you are looking forward to
experience.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, on that morning that is how I felt. Opening my eyes to
a room filled with packed bags and an otherwise overcrowded shoe stand, empty, it
shot on me that this was the end to college life. Just a day before, the entire
class was in tears and the four of us laughing away to glory. But I was sure
that this morning would be gloomy and upset. None of us really cried, except for
me. So we were quite sure we wouldn’t cry, but we were also sure that all of
our hearts would be heavy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So running that last run through one end of the corridor to
the other, my eyes did fill with tears, but I held it back. After all it wasn’t
like we would never meet again. And so we hugged like we would never let go,
and said our final goodbyes. And all four of us didn’t forget to laugh those
hideous laughs of us and we parted ways. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwYJn9OInlamHnW7LcSG_JID-h52zVShqUj8icIBYcpytiyWzmCTObiJKz-PRaCpgK6c1-IREw8DJaRNY2y-wTE2d8IH8otyR7huO0A5BCr_aGEqmmy1FkvF2-DoEcM5Punw-Sf76IXo/s1600/Long_road_to_ruin_by_mario19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwYJn9OInlamHnW7LcSG_JID-h52zVShqUj8icIBYcpytiyWzmCTObiJKz-PRaCpgK6c1-IREw8DJaRNY2y-wTE2d8IH8otyR7huO0A5BCr_aGEqmmy1FkvF2-DoEcM5Punw-Sf76IXo/s200/Long_road_to_ruin_by_mario19.jpg" width="133" /></a>And now for the main question. What next? Well, it would
either be higher studies or a job! My parents would love it if I studied for a
year or two more, but I would love to visit the work field and have a feel of
it before I dig deeper into more books! Apart from these two options, I have
many things in mind which I wish I could do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would love to keep cooking till I
shift to someplace else. I have to get my license in these two months. It is
now or never! I want to reduce my weight! And I would love to be a lot more
active on blog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But for the time being it is just fun, relaxation and
thinking about the old madness and smiling. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S: My comment list has gone down drastically <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">L</span>!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-48569477642189659252012-04-17T13:20:00.000+05:302012-04-17T13:22:12.138+05:30What was it that she did wrong??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before I start writing this story, I would like to make one
thing clear to avoid any further confusions. The post posted is purely a piece
of fiction and has no relation with either my life or anyone I know. I was
watching a movie recently, and came up with one doubt which will be asked in
the end of the story. I didn’t want to stop the post with just the question and
so the story. It is no fairytale, so there won’t be any ‘once upon a times’ or ‘happily
ever afters’. Now let’s get on to the story shall we?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rema was hit by obstacles right from her birth. She had been
fighting with members of the opposite sex right from when she was safe inside
her mother’s tummy. Safe would definitely be an understatement since her father
didn’t want her alive, for the sole reason of being a girl or not a boy. But she
always found shelter in the one person who always protected her, her mother. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so she made it to the world. She was probably a lot
better inside her mother’s tummy since life was not a bed of roses for her. Rather
it was a flock of thorns. Her father beat her from when she could remember, and
she craved for her grandmother’s love from time immemorial. But little did she
know that life was definitely going to take a wild bump when her mother passed
away when she was a tender ten year old. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She felt alone and lonely. Why wouldn’t she? Her mother was
the only one who loved her and gave her the care and affection with the help of
which she passed all obstacles. Not to mention successfully. And with that
person not in her life anymore, she felt lost. Her father however felt freedom
ever since he lost his wife, since he could beat and literally kill his
daughter a lot more. And so he did by getting her married off to a man in his
thirties. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rema felt scared in his presence, but never forgot her
duties towards him. The same duties her mother used to perform to her father. She
cooked for him, massaged his legs and hands when he came back after a fight and
lay still when he fulfilled his pleasures. But never did she feel the pleasure
of being loved and caressed by a person of the opposite sex. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After days and months of his fulfillments, Priya came into
this world. Rema felt happiness and peace when she held her for the first time.
Her daughter. She promised Priya to look after her the same way her other
looked after Rema. She felt complete and understood why her mother fought till
her last breath to save Rema. She wished and believed her husband would change
for the good with the arrival of the angel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But little did she know that life was going to be an even
bigger hell for Priya than it was for her. Her husband never looked at her with
a fatherly affection. She felt he looked at Priya the same way he looked at her
when they were in bed. She felt scared for her daughter but never lost hope. But
all of her hopes crushed to pieces when she returned one day from the market
only to return home to a bed filled with blood. Her daughter lay still on the
bed with blood all over her body. Her lips were crushed and her body had bite
scars. She turned to her husband for answers; which she had already known but
didn’t want to accept.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She cried; for days and months. But the pain didn’t wipe
away, neither did the wounds. Her daughter’s lifeless face kept haunting her. She
felt helpless unable to complete the promise she had made to her daughter the
day she was born. But she felt strong. Years of rage and anger were all about
to end. She felt strong enough to perform one activity; one murder; just one
murder. She went to the room where her husband lay peaceful, unmoved by their
daughter’s death. She hit him on the head with the frying pan she used to use
to make him chapathis. The pillow to his side finished the job.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She felt happiness and peace, even though she had to spend
the rest of her life in jail. She felt confident to meet her daughter up there.
She was waiting to meet her and spend the rest of their time in peace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
_________________________________________________________________________________</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What wrong did Rema do? If you see her as a wife, I don’t
think she was wrong. Neither was she as a mother. But she still had to spend
the rest of her life in jail. Why?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzfTXNbdc9dm0MGed4igg0I4QZQ3TQx9RZWrohtK6kRyiPnwV6gHQc3hvQ-ZWiBkIUIBIoNB6HoQVMjWvlWp22DIuC0sVKS_GIRlSk0QSkP1NFSAyRMFUMU_-SHDs1ZmDbm0ljqLsp1I/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzfTXNbdc9dm0MGed4igg0I4QZQ3TQx9RZWrohtK6kRyiPnwV6gHQc3hvQ-ZWiBkIUIBIoNB6HoQVMjWvlWp22DIuC0sVKS_GIRlSk0QSkP1NFSAyRMFUMU_-SHDs1ZmDbm0ljqLsp1I/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-82321689425490279652012-04-11T18:02:00.002+05:302012-04-11T18:06:15.748+05:30RIP Afreen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Recently during my research viva, my external asked me to
mention in one sentence how I, as a member of the media and society would help
in reducing the number of smokers in India. The answer I gave was ‘Your parents
wanted the best for you. Don’t you want the same for your kids?’ I stressed on
the fact how smoking can affect one’s future generations and their babies. But I
wonder how I would explain it to people like baby Afreen’s parents, who not
just didn’t want the best for their daughter but didn’t want the daughter at
all.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder how her father could so brutally murder her that he
didn’t even give her the chance to enjoy the rights she was entitled to. What
would have twisted his mind so much that his crave for a son enabled him to brutally
assault and kill his own daughter? His very own flesh and blood. Couldn’t he
just glance at those innocent eyes that would look after him much better than a
son would have during his old days? Hadn’t Afreen got his finger even once in
between her tiny fingers, and wouldn’t he have silently promised to look after
her from all odds? Wouldn’t she have smiled her innocent smile at least once
melting her father’s heart? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or was her father’s heart so cruel and taken aback due to
the lack of a son that all these seemed irrelevant to him? Maybe he was unaware
that it was because of him that Afreen turned out to be Afreen and not Afridi! Maybe
he felt a son would look after him a lot better than a daughter would. Maybe he
would have been right. But he didn’t even give a chance to Afreen to choose
whether to look after her parents or to walk on her own. I wonder how all these
still prevail in a so called ‘democratic’ country where everyone is entitled to
certain rights which they have the right to enjoy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
RIP Afreen and I hope at least in your next birth you get
parents who deserve you. Who would look after you like an angel. Like the love
of their life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For more details: <a href="http://www.ndtv.com/article/south/baby-afreen-passes-away-in-hospital-after-cardiac-arrest-196212?pfrom=home-otherstories">NDTV</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSdVCZK4FJfUd941yHPFoxcFNK4T2e7NMZ0B-qoBG-YXiNN3drfbV_P60N55WGcMDtMgJ6ioyjNEmEEwWBoeGAR3gl4KR530wgefyZTzqG_XOYqUbS5Wa42TjiuxIlZ1Cd9vqBLAW5Rc/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSdVCZK4FJfUd941yHPFoxcFNK4T2e7NMZ0B-qoBG-YXiNN3drfbV_P60N55WGcMDtMgJ6ioyjNEmEEwWBoeGAR3gl4KR530wgefyZTzqG_XOYqUbS5Wa42TjiuxIlZ1Cd9vqBLAW5Rc/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-37316433489598913152012-03-19T08:56:00.000+05:302012-03-19T08:58:06.160+05:30Possessiveness: WHY??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am sure all of us would have experienced an intense
craving, an extreme desire to possess something or someone. You haven’t? Well,
good for you is all I can say. Because I have felt it a zillion times. The need
to possess something materialistically, to own someone, to win someone’s love,
to catch someone’s love a bit more than that person provides it to someone
else, and the list goes on. But there have been two major questions that haunt
me when I think about possessiveness and its ‘forms’. Why exactly do we have
this feeling to possess something or someone? Why is it that we feel insecure
or jealous when your boyfriend/husband talk or at the least smile at another girl?
Why is it that we feel we are less loved by our parents when they care a bit
more (or so we feel) our younger sibling and not us? Is it because we are
otherwise less loved? I really don’t think so. But why then this
possessiveness?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8AQwdpdfpao7jnodiOe-dxHTCTbzXkvdBtSs9lsM4eXbulxWCIYn3vOYrma3UZY0g6jD3TYQtPV14GjPivaVUCdWHEdWKCP_h9m33Fek_WaTqFboLt3e8oxRtf_1v3yAAbkPyiMjgGM/s1600/tl-possessive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8AQwdpdfpao7jnodiOe-dxHTCTbzXkvdBtSs9lsM4eXbulxWCIYn3vOYrma3UZY0g6jD3TYQtPV14GjPivaVUCdWHEdWKCP_h9m33Fek_WaTqFboLt3e8oxRtf_1v3yAAbkPyiMjgGM/s200/tl-possessive.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple walks down the road. They are merrily talking
holding hands. Out of nowhere, there is this friend of her boyfriend’s who
smiles at him and slows down for a small chat. The guy too stops by to talk to
her and introduces his girlfriend to her as well. But the rest of the journey
does not seem like it was five minutes back. There were no holding hands and
there definitely is no ‘merry talking’ going on. Why did the girl feel sad? Was
she insecure? Or jealous? Or worst of all did she not trust him? Personally,
many at times I have felt that this feeling has nothing to do with trust. Please
read, many at times! So why then this possessiveness?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A child is happily playing with her doll. She combs the
Barbie’s hair, corrects her clothes and plants a kiss on her cheek. Her mother’s
friend’s daughter comes home. She too joins with the first child, and guess
what, she loves the same Barbie. The house is sure to end up in a mess. The first
child cries and snatches the doll saying “its mine”, while the second child
whines and yells, “I want it”. Why exactly does it happen?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is possessiveness good or bad? Many at times I have felt bad
when my best friend talks to another person and feels as comfortable as she is
with me, with her. Is it good or bad? It isn’t because I have a feeling I would
lose her. I would never lose her. She is my best friend. But then why this feeling. Why, WHy, WHY!!! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfCie6WElsAtMzxC9Lm2F3SAvE2aomY0qrwJJHahIYdnJd76ZjD9X0AaFDDBG5rpJvVLgR-i_QEkBtIys16KhrinDQXWugI0PjtCB3mU3qDy0IM-QT-VseCSntzT6FnB3Yz2UeAAvOQU/s1600/irs_pathological_possessiveness_1052825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfCie6WElsAtMzxC9Lm2F3SAvE2aomY0qrwJJHahIYdnJd76ZjD9X0AaFDDBG5rpJvVLgR-i_QEkBtIys16KhrinDQXWugI0PjtCB3mU3qDy0IM-QT-VseCSntzT6FnB3Yz2UeAAvOQU/s320/irs_pathological_possessiveness_1052825.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba-JbyoVToYY4Wq-lUDEN02TO7Tyt0LHXjupI_akWZV-CCcwETMNVHwEQGJ8JTOJozUK0U5TvKtpY9eC7YFLOtGZ1zRwMLXDpgQCBzdHQ07VlCbGahJmtSVbEJCgekeX2FsmraskhBOc/s1600/rmo0119l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba-JbyoVToYY4Wq-lUDEN02TO7Tyt0LHXjupI_akWZV-CCcwETMNVHwEQGJ8JTOJozUK0U5TvKtpY9eC7YFLOtGZ1zRwMLXDpgQCBzdHQ07VlCbGahJmtSVbEJCgekeX2FsmraskhBOc/s320/rmo0119l.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3iCEkiGe0po-FxtitkoCzr9zDlwjYruQJeiFfbArwA0PVLr01oPDmEEfKyRiOgWSCtIeayLKYH859aFTeep5wZJUAoK235DC0w8mMiZ_BmQJ0RYDAx0Jx3gmldKhT3EiGIZtxOmDRAg/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3iCEkiGe0po-FxtitkoCzr9zDlwjYruQJeiFfbArwA0PVLr01oPDmEEfKyRiOgWSCtIeayLKYH859aFTeep5wZJUAoK235DC0w8mMiZ_BmQJ0RYDAx0Jx3gmldKhT3EiGIZtxOmDRAg/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-23447706732334169112012-03-16T22:04:00.000+05:302012-03-16T22:05:23.209+05:30"For Myself, Who else?"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
“Why do you dress up so much?” “There is too much of kohl
around your eyes.” “Does my face look too white?” “Women spend so much time in front
of the mirror.” or “Why do women take so much time to dress up?”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few questions a lot many women would have faced at some
point of time. They could either be on the receiving end. Or they could also be
the person asking the question. Well obviously the last two would probably be
asked by members of the opposite gender. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPQWWETUClcifXwFg__oXpx1DK2aNoa08VS1o_YLdEwbX13rLNXlSYk8CzIUjv_fc6DbSNX8MWUrIgapFMCEyIBVtXwfSBzCZCsplwhrIejDa2yE5_PES923aGkM3PVGGk8gGXfbTqY0/s1600/arabia_saudita___occhi_tentatori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPQWWETUClcifXwFg__oXpx1DK2aNoa08VS1o_YLdEwbX13rLNXlSYk8CzIUjv_fc6DbSNX8MWUrIgapFMCEyIBVtXwfSBzCZCsplwhrIejDa2yE5_PES923aGkM3PVGGk8gGXfbTqY0/s200/arabia_saudita___occhi_tentatori.jpg" width="200" /></a>I have been asked many at times the first question, and to
be on the safer and more ‘self-loving’ side I would answer, “To satisfy myself
who else!” However, when I think about it later on I know the answer I should
have said was “To create a good first impression to the person in front of me.”
How about you ask this question to a young Muslim woman, clad in the
traditional black burqa from head to toe? Personally I would say the apt answer
for her would be “For myself, who else!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Obviously it is for her and no one else. Why? Because she doesn’t
expose any of her features to create a good first impression to a person who
looks at her. A Muslim woman, especially in the Middle East, or should I say
West Asia, is expected to adorn herself with the black ‘abhaya’ from top to
bottom irrespective of what she is wearing beneath the burqa. It is a custom,
and they are expected to follow it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIg_GqBv33juAHtbsf0OiwGAO3M9KvHqytNRfc1kcW-PkGHPbGLYpZneZw-lztYqNB-5XJJ8eT7huLpgeORzOT6CvTdNSH68fakelllBpun_r-vl72a2DsdmhmSi3-okKKXkXFbNDVNQE/s1600/Pakistani-Scarves-Elegant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIg_GqBv33juAHtbsf0OiwGAO3M9KvHqytNRfc1kcW-PkGHPbGLYpZneZw-lztYqNB-5XJJ8eT7huLpgeORzOT6CvTdNSH68fakelllBpun_r-vl72a2DsdmhmSi3-okKKXkXFbNDVNQE/s200/Pakistani-Scarves-Elegant.jpg" width="141" /></a>But any person who has seen a young Arab Muslim woman
without the burqa would agree when I say that they are truly beautiful beings. Their
eyes are probably the only feature that is allowed to be showed, and how
prettily they beautify them. Those thick-kohl filled eyes are truly to die for.
And once they remove those black clothes, you would probably feel ashamed with
the way you are clad. They would be wearing the best of best clothes, and even
if they were wearing normal attire, the way they carry themselves would just
make us stare and awe. And their skin is so soft and clean, that you would wish
you had the same skin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But once they wear the abhaya, none of it is seen. So who do
they dress up for? For themselves, who else!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUodyyFvbGcluyOvw_zwZmoieaB9B1svG3X2ZAZZp_pc6wvjB2NAphQuw19utH1T0RI1Ulg69AUSLNt2i5mXz3H1byRS1HvEUlxwzlo2ZOo9iWAZafZWKu7FczJ9PwYIl6Yo7_shFwMw/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUodyyFvbGcluyOvw_zwZmoieaB9B1svG3X2ZAZZp_pc6wvjB2NAphQuw19utH1T0RI1Ulg69AUSLNt2i5mXz3H1byRS1HvEUlxwzlo2ZOo9iWAZafZWKu7FczJ9PwYIl6Yo7_shFwMw/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-42041790894176244752012-03-15T15:52:00.001+05:302012-03-19T16:38:48.549+05:30Quiet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>P.P.S:Due to certain comments I have received after writing this post, I find it a compulsion to put this up. This story is purely and completely fiction and has no resemblance to me or my personal life.</b><br />
<br />
Those eyes reminded me of a lot many things. The gaze
reminded me of the way he peeped deep into my eyes on that day. His hands
reminded me of his touch on my breasts. His evil smile reminded me of the taste
I felt when his lips fought with mine. The feeling I had when his tongue
explored the inside of my mouth. The pain I felt when he pressed me all over
with his hands.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was my father. The person without whom my birth wouldn’t
have been possible. Without whom I would still be waiting to be brought to life.
Was this how I was born? Did my mother experience the same pain before I was
born? Or was it a mutual feeling called love they had for each other which
resulted in my birth? I don’t know. But I wish I knew.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitk75KhcIvj7VDm6Ub3BLv94bNf5SE4B2s-zkOKoflEFQlhOJeLkqNN1vC8Plb-qfRvBY2lEhdOSxmo7cl4Gr8DKJj0RJmgSa72tcY_-McqyZjxNw_SqiCEgStrTu7cX6riNJvDoL7pHw/s1600/695190_a_angry_and_scared_little_girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitk75KhcIvj7VDm6Ub3BLv94bNf5SE4B2s-zkOKoflEFQlhOJeLkqNN1vC8Plb-qfRvBY2lEhdOSxmo7cl4Gr8DKJj0RJmgSa72tcY_-McqyZjxNw_SqiCEgStrTu7cX6riNJvDoL7pHw/s1600/695190_a_angry_and_scared_little_girl.jpg" /></a>Though it has been nearly four years since that dreaded day,
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sick. My mother asked me to stay at
home and take rest. And so I did, since I never went against what my parents
asked me to do. My mother worked at the bank, and she couldn’t take the day
off. And so she left, since my father said he would take the day off and look
after me. Little did she know how he would look after me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a sore throat and was having a tough time to sleep,
when I heard my father come into my room and close the door. He smiled at me, a
smile I never received from him before. But he was my father, and I returned
the smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you fine my dear?” he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My throat is a bit rough. Other than that I am feeling a
lot better”, I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t worry dear, I will make you feel a lot better now”
was the last few words I heard from him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then everything turned black. The feeling of pain,
betrayal, sorrow all united together is a bit too much to handle. And I never
spoke to him ever again. I cried. I cried in the afternoon, I cried when my
mother returned home, I cried to sleep. I didn’t know what else to do. I was
just seven. An age when fathers are your hero. A phase when the person you look
up to and wish to follow is your father. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I never told my mother anything. What should I tell her?
Should I tell her that I was raped by my father? Or should I tell her that the
person whom she married and loved was a cheat? And that he had used his very own daughter to satisfy his dirty pleasures? It was enough that I suffered. I
didn’t want my mother to suffer as well. And so I kept quiet. I have still
remained quiet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S:I have realized that I do not know how to find apt photos from Google :(.<br />
<br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-17874741282368322952012-03-06T17:20:00.000+05:302012-03-06T17:22:10.252+05:30I am 'Tagged'!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's been pretty long since I have actually played a game! Actually no, I did play a game with my friends this weekend. A game called 'The Game of Life'. If you haven't played it, you should!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anyway </span><a href="http://aquastudio.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Viya</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> wants to know a bit more about myself, and has tagged me in this beautiful game called 'Tag'!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So the rules?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2b2b2b; line-height: 18px;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rule#1: </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Put the rules on your blog.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rule#2:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Every person who is tagged in this activity should tell 11 things about themselves, then answer the questions asked by the person who tagged you, then tag 11 other people and ask them 11 different questions. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rule#3:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Let the people whom you tagged know you've done so.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rule#4: </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't tag anyone who's been tagged before.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><b style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rule#5: </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Really do tag 11 others, don't go all ''if you want to take this tag''</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So here are the 11 random things about myself (God this is going to be tough)!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. I am a lot less short-tempered when compared to how I was earlier (Oh yes, I was very very bad friends :P)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. I consider myself to be the Queen of 'stage-fright'. I can shiver till my legs consider not holding on to my body weight just before I get on to a stage. In fact I do not go on the stage during marriage functions as well. I run to the eating hall as soon as the 'thali' is tied!</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Speaking about eating, I am a foodie. I adoreeee food!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. But I crave for a slimmer body, which I don't think will appear anytime soon!</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. So I hope all of you understand from points 4 and 5 that I am very difficult in making decisions on my own. I can be easily (and I mean damn easily) manipulated by anyone who I care about even to the slightest.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. I miss playing my guitar.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. I miss home and Amma's food :(</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. I trust people a lot quicker than I would like to.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. I hate anyone (guys or girls) who do not respect women.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. I sometimes feel that people text me only because I have started the conversation and not because they actually am interested in talking to me :|!</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11. I wish I was as smart as the person I am when I am talking to myself!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So voila Vi and my other friends, I think my seminar was a lot more easier :P!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So here are Viya's questions!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Which is the colour which best describes you?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. I think pink would be my answer, for the sole reason I love anything and everything in pink. You buy anything, and I mean ANYTHING in pink, and I would love you for the rest of my life :D.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Shoes or bags or clothes?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. I would have to go with clothes considering the mess in my wardrobe. But shoes is a recent obsession that has taken over me!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you, but now makes you laugh?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. Very simple. During my 11th grade I participated for an instrumental music competition where I was to play the guitar. Since I had recently joined that school, my seniors totally made a laughing stock out of me by hooting and shouting, which led to me giving up playing the guitar. But now I think about it, I end up crying due to laughter! And the best part, I laugh with those very seniors!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Culture and heritage? or 'in-thing' and future? why? </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. Culture and heritage. Personally I feel, no matter how modern one becomes, culture is what is going to either bind him to the ground or bury him under the ground. A person is known by the culture s/he follows. For example, no matter how broad-minded and modern India becomes, an Indian will always be expected to follow certain norms such as respect for elders and oneself. That is what marks an Indian from any other nation citizen.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you had a time machine, would you want to take a peek into the future or change something from the past?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. Definitely change something from the past. I still have time to shape my future and I wouldn't want to ruin the fun of knowing it before hand. But I do believe that if certain things from my past had happened differently, my present and ultimately my future would have been a lot more bright!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Have you eaten something that is not edible?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. Does paper count :P!!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do you believe in the purpose of relationships?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. I completely agree with the idea of relationship. I do not believe that any person can live without no relationship at all. Be it family, friends, love or even enmity. I believe even enmity is a relationship to be cherished.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do you wanna be the person who would dedicate his life to do something great for the benefit of the society and land up in textbooks or would you rather lead a quiet happy satisfied life with the family and friend?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. I would rather dedicate my life to do something for the benefit of the society and lead a quiet, happy and satisfied life with my family and friends :)!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What is the one dream you remember vividly?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. A dream where I was surrounded my snakes (yuck yuck yuck)!!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do you have a purpose in life or do you just take life as it comes?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. Broadly, yes I do have a purpose in life. But ultimately I take life as it comes!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your bestest childhood memory?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A. That is pretty easy. My parents and myself lived in Saudi Arabia for around 4 years, when my sister had to study in India. The flights from Cochin to Saudi was always at odd times, and every time she visited home (Saudi), Amma would make it a point to make Porotta, Chicken curry and there would be the Puck cheese spread both of us drooled over! So I used to wait for Chechi to come only for that :P!! But I love her more than ever, so I am not evil!!</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now I am supposed to tag 11 different people. The winners (in no particular order) are:</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://pablosangel.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hazel</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://sujathasathya.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sujatha Di</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://anuglyhead.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Red</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://myblawghh.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Upasana</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.walkofthoughts.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sahana Di</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://sarusinghal.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saru Di</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://titli15081977.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Little Princess</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://beguiling-life.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mirage</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://theothersideofme88.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Aleeya</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Serendipity</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://intiativesonia.blogspot.in/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">MNET</span></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now to my set of 11 questions, ayayoooo</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Your favourite colour and why?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Do you agree with the concept of eloping with your guy/girl without the knowledge of your parents?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. The most memorable moment of your life?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Would you rather live life adventurously taking risks whenever possible, or would you prefer living a peace and quiet life?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. An incident that changed your life?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. Bed coffee, coffee with a newspaper or coffee along with breakfast?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. Have you ever been compared to a person you never thought you had any resemblance to? If so who?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. A dream yet to be fulfilled, but hope to be completed soon?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. Something you miss from your childhood?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. Nail-painted leg or mehendi-scented hands?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11. One person you cannot live without?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I AM SO GLAD THIS IS OVER!! It was so much more difficult than I would have wanted it to be. But I had fun, and thanks a ton Vi for the tag :) :*!!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.S: My external viva went extremely well. Two final papers done, three more to go :) </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiod_WhyjRR2duWsxj6m87J-i7hZgJjpaokdwVpF7PQU_X0SSiselGF1aznCoPYAyaF87M9hl-PDta3VOpIjWN87Ihn2IfUpm1nmZSrT3B4kvY0hnk5NmuIfAiIRERgM6G2l8nSaZujUig/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiod_WhyjRR2duWsxj6m87J-i7hZgJjpaokdwVpF7PQU_X0SSiselGF1aznCoPYAyaF87M9hl-PDta3VOpIjWN87Ihn2IfUpm1nmZSrT3B4kvY0hnk5NmuIfAiIRERgM6G2l8nSaZujUig/s1600/logo.jpg" /></span></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-48647765323645818182012-03-05T19:36:00.001+05:302012-03-05T19:37:10.465+05:30Five Minutes...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BaN02Ts_yWLCUpWebHc5wTR-mToRf7NVVQ7yoTqb6oVP6r_hBZCixctCooi28MvaTZpNCLDEeHFM5PCh1nBCVtUdRDN6EjJnwTy3tQhD504iK2NNdSRMaCjVk3i6fh_1CBfs15EUJLM/s1600/A_Girl_Lying_Down_and_Talking_on_the_Phone_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_110517-139568-016053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BaN02Ts_yWLCUpWebHc5wTR-mToRf7NVVQ7yoTqb6oVP6r_hBZCixctCooi28MvaTZpNCLDEeHFM5PCh1nBCVtUdRDN6EjJnwTy3tQhD504iK2NNdSRMaCjVk3i6fh_1CBfs15EUJLM/s200/A_Girl_Lying_Down_and_Talking_on_the_Phone_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_110517-139568-016053.jpg" width="200" /></a>Time was running away<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seemed like you were running along with it</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With still few more months of physical closeness,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your absence was already felt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We rarely spoke, seldom met</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when we did, we would end up screaming and parting ways</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt lost, alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But five minutes was all it took</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five minutes of your life gave me back my life</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five minutes of your phone balance reassured me that I was
loved</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five minutes made me happy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S: It is not the hours you spend on phone or the frequency with which you meet each other that determine how much one loves the other. It is the faith that in spite of everything, they still care and love you that matters. It is the feeling, that you have the other person during times of pain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkS3lM2VPYc6l8Z27tCHFMBH4OWxm9ZTMJ1kPK0oVY0iN1gk3KnwFvMOiIva58srFAYZDyTxEuj4l5SCGgM416ksJlZPdBAt3rf1gEnzZpZn9lx6Og2KtThnsO6jqKobDB9YPjddBv8I/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkS3lM2VPYc6l8Z27tCHFMBH4OWxm9ZTMJ1kPK0oVY0iN1gk3KnwFvMOiIva58srFAYZDyTxEuj4l5SCGgM416ksJlZPdBAt3rf1gEnzZpZn9lx6Og2KtThnsO6jqKobDB9YPjddBv8I/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-8803051509724573692012-02-26T09:50:00.001+05:302012-02-26T09:54:51.723+05:30What if I don't?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A friend of mine was reading my blog few months back, in
fact last year, and out of the blue she asked me to watch the movie Julie and
Julia. I asked her what the movie is about, and she told me it was about how a
woman, passionate about cooking, starts a blog and finds life being a lot more
worth living and fun. I don’t know why, but it enlightened an instant spark and
I went around asking every Tom, Dick and Harry if they had the movie. Not to
mention I finally got the movie last night from my friend herself.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw the movie and my oh my was my body filled with
goosebumps. I am sure I will not do justice to the movie if I read a movie
review, and more importantly this is not a movie review. I don’t really know if
my friend asked me to see the movie because I wrote quite a few recipes and
cooking related posts then, but I actually felt a lot connected to Julie
Powell. I am not very happy with where I am now, and how my life is moving on. I
miss being with my parents, with my best friend, miss chatting with my sister
and in fact miss a lot many things. I love to write, and feel complete, content
and happy when I do that, and so the blog. Though I don’t really know how well you
all think about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiPXPLNREWkWmiWd7-kLRzDRfY-kZM9_9yNO7uH7QvB5V4iilJ2zQbs-ND9_OI69fjDjvIQe-SQxIGJLlQaNMw52dcZahFAEdaTO6caVbrmpxu5PkhCiOUosDgsibOSzI6ElbSsxGnc0/s1600/Amy_Adams_in_Julie_and_Julia_Wallpaper_7_800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiPXPLNREWkWmiWd7-kLRzDRfY-kZM9_9yNO7uH7QvB5V4iilJ2zQbs-ND9_OI69fjDjvIQe-SQxIGJLlQaNMw52dcZahFAEdaTO6caVbrmpxu5PkhCiOUosDgsibOSzI6ElbSsxGnc0/s320/Amy_Adams_in_Julie_and_Julia_Wallpaper_7_800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The first few months I started a blog, I felt like I was
invisible and not very many people saw or heard or read me. And I used to keep
whining to my mother day in and day out that my followers list would just not rise beyond 10. And she asked me if I was
writing to become famous or because I loved it. And voila I had my answer. Then
all I wasn’t very concerned about increasing my followers list, though I still
get very excited when I see one more added in my list. After all you want
comments to improve, don’t you?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And now my mother gets very happy when I tell her about my
blog. I remember once when I had written a post about how my mother reads my
blog, I had got a few comments from shocking friends asked if my mother
actually read my blog and that they would rather die if their parents went
through their blog. How could I not let my parents read them? They are the
reason for it to begin and grow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would really really like to thank <a href="http://www.priyankavictor.blogspot.com/">Priyanka</a> for helping me
out with the way my blog looks and in a way helping me gain a lot more
followers. We do have personal problems, but when it comes to writing I cannot
and will not lie, you are a maestro in it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_SNh2XA8jdw85Of7g6wmOE3TH8r7lleCWwRrmytku9K8EYMDtjG6eFdwQtY-JT7bM9H9Vl1GlExqSzyRPZH1tuUQcWm9ZjF0xjrW0Rv27RAOab7nvjZxz1bLSnkp299MkbYZZCujW6M/s1600/stock-photo-little-girl-surrounded-by-books-wearing-black-glasses-back-to-school-concept-isolated-over-white-48120202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_SNh2XA8jdw85Of7g6wmOE3TH8r7lleCWwRrmytku9K8EYMDtjG6eFdwQtY-JT7bM9H9Vl1GlExqSzyRPZH1tuUQcWm9ZjF0xjrW0Rv27RAOab7nvjZxz1bLSnkp299MkbYZZCujW6M/s200/stock-photo-little-girl-surrounded-by-books-wearing-black-glasses-back-to-school-concept-isolated-over-white-48120202.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everytime I think of starting something new, I always ALWAYS
have the question ‘What if I don’t complete it’ roaming around my head. And most
often I do not complete it. For example, I was extremely excited in starting a
new year calendar, which I have completed. But I am just too lazy to get it
spiral bound and flaunt it on my study table. So nope, I have not completed it!
But who knows maybe someday I too might be like Julie Powell, and my answering
machine would be filled with a lot more than 64 messages, lol! I will always
have my mother as Erik to push me through!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S: As of now please pray that I do an ok job of the
seminar due tomorrow. I am so very tensed and scared (nothing new though) and I
am sure I am going to make a fool out of myself, like always. Now you know what
I meant when I was talking about my confidence level!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4P4E6aUAxb-WfU-yVSsOdoqbOHvOCqHmluR9w4Kjnjb-AzYA16RMfE1ocgUEse-YfJeK4ju_h9WWL8Go3HnPj5rI2Sb0EItJXJ7UmMeti_pfn_KiQcFpn9iHkGA47FBdu2rkwYVxo4z8/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4P4E6aUAxb-WfU-yVSsOdoqbOHvOCqHmluR9w4Kjnjb-AzYA16RMfE1ocgUEse-YfJeK4ju_h9WWL8Go3HnPj5rI2Sb0EItJXJ7UmMeti_pfn_KiQcFpn9iHkGA47FBdu2rkwYVxo4z8/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-79464460269824575792012-02-14T19:29:00.002+05:302012-02-14T19:41:01.292+05:30Dreams can change you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Rahul and Samantha were just done with the hundredth fight
for the day. What were they fighting over? They themselves were not very sure.
All they knew was that the very sight of each other made them crave to run away
from each other. Or at least that is how Rahul felt like.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was probably a lot harder for Samantha, since she fought
against her parents for him. She betrayed and left them for him. She was thrown
out of the church, since she had a Hindu husband. She was denied the right of
baptism for her daughter, since she did not have a church to call her own. In
short, life was hell for the first few years as man and wife with Rahul. But
now, it turned out to be a lot more difficult. She missed him, and still loved
him. Probably a lot more than when they were in college. But she was unaware of
the reason for the sudden change in Rahul for the past few years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhPjcFvGO2gW7VihNKhnd1kaP0qDco8cyLNdy0sbJhQKPF76NePKemFUDoCePorhg6xZHn7Phx9ivZerKP6_t8NikbEKvyLwN5-guMXcQXzNuiiMJGEwVcg11DMMa7InTXNTbDMQ96nU/s1600/2468775817_0fe9682a2c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhPjcFvGO2gW7VihNKhnd1kaP0qDco8cyLNdy0sbJhQKPF76NePKemFUDoCePorhg6xZHn7Phx9ivZerKP6_t8NikbEKvyLwN5-guMXcQXzNuiiMJGEwVcg11DMMa7InTXNTbDMQ96nU/s320/2468775817_0fe9682a2c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He enjoyed being with his friends rather than at home. He
enjoyed returning home late at nights drunk and out of his senses. He enjoyed
beating Samantha once he returned home, for ‘sweet’ nothings. He enjoyed
hurting her, and she enjoyed being hurt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time, they were returning from a party, where they had
no other choice but to bare each other’s sight. It started off with Rahul
complaining about her talking to another guy instead of to him. He was busy
talking to another lady, and so the fight went on. The next thing Rahul knows
is opening his eyes with tubes stuck to his noses and the beep of the ICU
monitor. And the news of Sam’s death.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a month’s stay at the hospital, Rahul returned home,
which didn’t really seem like home anymore. Shreya was the only person who
helped him with coping back to life. Her smile reminded him of Sam’s smile.
When she got angry, he remembered Sam getting angry when he scolded her. When
she cried listening at him getting angry, he wished Sam was there for him to
beg forgiveness. He missed her, he wished for her to be with him, for him to
caress her, to love her, the way she loved him in return.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But life had to move on. And so it did. He had a tough time
looking after Shreya all alone. He left his alcohol bottles and the ‘evil’
friendship that came along with them. He devoted his life to bringing up Shreya
in the best way possible, to make her happy, him happy and most of all Sam
happy. He got back early from work, spent time with Shreya and helped her with
her homework. He managed to make her eatable meals, which she had without a
word of complain. But she asked about Sam at times. Too young at her age to
accept the fact that she would never she her mother ever again, Rahul hid the
fact till he thought was the appropriate time. But at times, he felt he was
cheating on her. But he loved too much and the fear of losing her as well kept
him going. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While walking to a nearby restaurant on a sunny Sunday
afternoon, with Rahul busy on the phone, Shreya prefers walking on a zig-zag
manner, only to fall and be hit by a speeding car.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the thud of the plate, Rahul gets up. He realizes it
was all a dream. He ran to the kitchen, to see Sam scared, for if it were a
usual Sunday, Rahul would now be beating Sam for being clumsy and ruining his
precious sleep. But today she saw him running towards her and hugging her. She
felt him next to her. She felt hi loving her, the same way he loved her in
college. And she returned the hug, hoping he would never go back to that sinful
person that he was before his dream.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S: Sometimes people forget to express the love and
feelings they have towards each other. and that is when God pinches you with
‘nightmares’ as they are called, to remind you that you better hurry up before
it is too late.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCaigZdp2ZvAEtZWc7my0T9M58urjAWjMQzvgukxnaovhbeDDhOjwre5QKdKk0TTK3D2tv3Nt0zwSLb9g8UkCSDBubelhJR2OXKhUVEdU5fryt_E41OoAZZ4IzOysGGvqfGk9dS6ox8c/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCaigZdp2ZvAEtZWc7my0T9M58urjAWjMQzvgukxnaovhbeDDhOjwre5QKdKk0TTK3D2tv3Nt0zwSLb9g8UkCSDBubelhJR2OXKhUVEdU5fryt_E41OoAZZ4IzOysGGvqfGk9dS6ox8c/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-49395787084325802202012-02-07T09:42:00.000+05:302012-02-08T08:55:59.808+05:30A few changes I wish I had made...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWoAH2zKk-ibv6oTEKKWGjUgiVgzT9C3dUZdJNethCycw7S8wIYrqNSVR2quwkPro6By_SUbkCG9Oi7Yly3kE8-1BK29O-6ZuZiCzYN0o7e6k6hXk0GWNYRIeCztu8HexfEEJZVR1a-E/s1600/hot-cuppa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWoAH2zKk-ibv6oTEKKWGjUgiVgzT9C3dUZdJNethCycw7S8wIYrqNSVR2quwkPro6By_SUbkCG9Oi7Yly3kE8-1BK29O-6ZuZiCzYN0o7e6k6hXk0GWNYRIeCztu8HexfEEJZVR1a-E/s200/hot-cuppa.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
This morning I was sipping my hot cup of coffee, when a
thought sprang upon me. There are a lot many incidents where I wish I had acted
differently, or better said I wish I had spoken out rather than just keep mum. On
the contrary, there are other moments when I wish I had just kept mum rather
than blabbered things I wish I hadn’t!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first scene that comes into my mind when I think of any ‘bad
moments of my life’ would be the scene at my college. I was wiling away my
time, when one guy dashes around towards me and accuses me of complaining about
him to our Sir. After that incident I realized there is no use of trying head
over heels to justify yourself to others, so I believe that I did no such thing
and was planning a trip with my friends! So when he screamed at me, I should
have asked him what the number was before 1144992!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead I screamed along with him, and boy you don’t want to
know how huge, <span style="font-size: large;">HUGE</span>, that ‘nightmare’ of mine turned out to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Scene 2:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXP8LZMzAqNkWTUAKkMNcHq2THCX-mU_IeMqaJNsrV56vEu5c2Gf2aA0Jh-nsi0mH6MrrEhzUtLr97-LRDjAGfs3vu3Ll375pr8dCAsQFDEjdDeqUqVrM1R6HMA7jwSaHWLJZnQHdKII/s1600/Girls+Hugging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXP8LZMzAqNkWTUAKkMNcHq2THCX-mU_IeMqaJNsrV56vEu5c2Gf2aA0Jh-nsi0mH6MrrEhzUtLr97-LRDjAGfs3vu3Ll375pr8dCAsQFDEjdDeqUqVrM1R6HMA7jwSaHWLJZnQHdKII/s200/Girls+Hugging.jpg" width="200" /></a>My bestest friend ever in this whole wide world was
justifying her point about why she had asked me not to talk to a particular
person. I was adamant and stubborn as I always am to people whom I am not
afraid to be so. She stopped talking to me for nearly a year, thanks to the
jack ass! So, yah, obviously I learnt my lesson and completely agreed on what
she was saying about him. I should have joined her and bitched about him a lot
more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead I just kept quiet and silently agreed to everything
she said. In fact I did include my points mentally. Don’t think anyone else
would understand that, except her, because she kept quiet the moment she saw my
head hung low, and came and gave me a huge hug. Ha, you have no idea how
relieving that was! I guess that is what best friends are for.</div>
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<b>Scene 3:</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A girl came over one night and blasted her thoughts about
how she thought my friends were and that I don’t know how to choose them WISELY
and stuff! She was just another random girl I knew, and personally she had no
right to barge into me, in the middle of the night, to talk about people whom
she has no clue about. I should have let her know a bit of my mind and told her
not-so-good things about her friends. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead I kept quiet, let her walk out of my life, and
called my friend and started crying! I mean how stupidlyinsane was that! Why would
I cry? But I guess if she, or anyone else for that matter, would return and
accuse people who are really close to me, I would still keep my
otherwisebigfatmouth shut! Is that bad?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So ya, I guess these are a few moments that are really close
to my heart. For the sole reason, they taught me who my actual friends are!
Just roaming around hand in hand during the happy times are not your friends. Having
to have a not-so-nice poster in your name stuck all around your college and
still have people stick around you no matter what, I guess those are my true
friends. </div>
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<br /></div>
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A lot does happen over coffee <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>!!</div>
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P.S: For those who haven’t understood what the number before
1144992 means, it is a fabulous way to calm yourself at moments where you are
sure you will blast off majorly! Count numbers the other way round. During
cases of extreme outburst start from a really large number, like 1144992! Try
it out. I am sure it will help you. It helped me!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYe8jtvTC8U-t1KjsS5xe_OzJLEqAtadaIWsuJGEOK2lg2hX_vIod4QSUBW8m8kDyuvQib_pGI8clkcuDrGVfIUlybdh4ul-onIOmAz5-ZumdCvz3GmT5oM6p_SMObNlZuJO-fFSOV7xA/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYe8jtvTC8U-t1KjsS5xe_OzJLEqAtadaIWsuJGEOK2lg2hX_vIod4QSUBW8m8kDyuvQib_pGI8clkcuDrGVfIUlybdh4ul-onIOmAz5-ZumdCvz3GmT5oM6p_SMObNlZuJO-fFSOV7xA/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-40376113345936279122012-02-04T17:36:00.000+05:302012-02-05T20:47:18.754+05:30Unexpressed Words...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The sun seems to be asleep<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Since darkness surrounds me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">You showered me with so much love</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">That I seemed to be incomplete without you</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I pleaded, I begged</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">But you left me incomplete</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">You moved on, while I was stuck</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My legs trembled, with the fear of falling down</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">But I held on, till I too moved on,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But my love still remains strong and pure</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Waiting for you to return</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">To complete me</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">P.S: I am welcoming myself back after a really really long time :)!!! I have been going through a rough time, and I guess it is that time when I have to say that I should love myself a lot more than before. The change in the header is my first step to a new life!!</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkxF9nerzLvbQVChpYyEW03i_C9D8FvUB7p4e4HqeR55FzS3-mK1uECY98G_jr6grzP2BHpn0Jq5AWMuonsuJxXw3k7kdLG6fvL7LmuxSQG0PALxkNXvDESeAUdGzu0BDUQFHK54LmCw/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkxF9nerzLvbQVChpYyEW03i_C9D8FvUB7p4e4HqeR55FzS3-mK1uECY98G_jr6grzP2BHpn0Jq5AWMuonsuJxXw3k7kdLG6fvL7LmuxSQG0PALxkNXvDESeAUdGzu0BDUQFHK54LmCw/s1600/logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-88240507127157084962012-01-04T12:47:00.002+05:302012-01-04T12:47:58.809+05:30Recipe-Lentil Lasagne<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqCKKzwOs571aYCMF0xYSm-cAQPlxePJe-ZQlexeChwYBd3pJ7_sPcSJYE8QUfPmHviScMakqHaUzFOZcJM-4CHg4PED4wFz2aOpQnkZ-cqSL2FuAiCWNdHP3zlkVJKGUoWJG2c7NCiM/s1600/IMG_0561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqCKKzwOs571aYCMF0xYSm-cAQPlxePJe-ZQlexeChwYBd3pJ7_sPcSJYE8QUfPmHviScMakqHaUzFOZcJM-4CHg4PED4wFz2aOpQnkZ-cqSL2FuAiCWNdHP3zlkVJKGUoWJG2c7NCiM/s320/IMG_0561.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><b>Ingredients:</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Lasagne sheets</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Grated mozarella or Parmesan</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><b>For the filling:</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">250g brown or green lentils</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 tbsp olive oil</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">1 onion, chopped</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 garlic cloves, crushed</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 celery sticks, chopped</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 red peppers</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">250g mushrooms500ml tomato puree</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Salt and freshly ground pepper</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Instead of separate vegetables, you can also put mixed vegetables we get in the shop</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><b>For the bechamel sauce:</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 tbsp butter</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 tbsp maida</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">2 cup milk</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Salt and pepper to taste</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><b>Method:</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Boil the lasagne sheets in a pan filled with boiling water, salt and oil. Drain and keep aside.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">To make the filling, cook the lentils in a saucepan filled with boiling water for 15-20 minutes, or until ready. Drain out the water and set aside.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">In a pan, heat olive oil and fry the onion and crushed garlic. Add the celery and cook for few minutes, and then add the red peppers and mushrooms and cook. Alternatively, you can add in the mixed vegetables and season well with salt and pepper. Add the tomato puree and cook for around 15-20 minutes.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">To make the sauce, melt the butter in a pan and add the flour. Cook till there are no lumps of the flour. Then add the milk and keep stirring till it becomes a medium thick sauce.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">To assemble the dish, place two the three spoons of the filling as the bottom layer in an ovenproof dish. Pour in a little bit of the bechamel sauce and cover it with two to three sheets of lasagne. Repeat the process for as many layers as required and season the top most layer, above the lasagne sheets, with grated cheese. If needed, you can grate cheese over each layer.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Bake in a preheated oven, 180 degree Celsius, gas mark 5 for 30 minutes, or until browned on the top.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">Serve and have fun :P!!</span></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-35951455034949515312012-01-02T22:35:00.000+05:302012-01-02T22:35:17.787+05:30How could she?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My parents and myself were driving this evening, when my father was telling us a story he heard in BBC radio this morning. A very beautiful woman from Iran, was traumatized by a man, by pouring acid on her face for rejecting his marriage proposal. <a href="http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2011/07/31/160194.html">Here</a> is the report I got when I searched it on Google.<br />
<br />
Personally I feel such punishments are required, so that next time a man picks up an acid bottle to throw it on a woman's face, he thinks a hundered times! But on another note, I also feel it wouldn't serve any purpose to the woman. What is lost is lost. Throwing acid on his face as well, will not bring back what she has lost, will it? But never the less it is a lot better that some punishment is better than the man roaming around, like a hero!<br />
<br />
It seems in the radio programme, it was said that when the man was asked to apologize he refused to do so. He should be beaten to death so that he knows the intensity of what has occurred because of him. Personally, I don't really know how it would feel to have a burning face from acid, but I do know how life can turn upside down when a guy, whose proposal you have rejected, is bent on destroying and ruining your life. At the moment I too would love to do something to make the guy's life hell, but when I think about it deeply, probably I too would pardon him, because what is done is done.<br />
<br />
So thought I would share it along with all of you.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-45131686047676859392012-01-02T13:34:00.000+05:302012-01-02T13:35:47.314+05:30A Letter for answers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear God,<br />
You have been extremely kind with me for the past one year. Though, I should not miss out on the last few months, where you turned out to be a quite rude and arrogant. But I guess it was all to make me a lot stronger for the coming year. I know we do write love letters to each other, and I love you a lot, but this letter is a little bit formal, filled with a few questions, or should I say,,doubts from this lover of yours.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPkZHK6pEek3EJKqste3gQkmH1PXY0mR3im-S4Mp21A-nxlvRffhbFoUNcHdTbEEZsJ-jMmjb30d4hH84UM-kKEgDY-9lPXJLib-1mSueUx79hJjv4KExW7RWYhwC2X7QN0CTk5H8WYU/s1600/cartoon_picture_of_girl_writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPkZHK6pEek3EJKqste3gQkmH1PXY0mR3im-S4Mp21A-nxlvRffhbFoUNcHdTbEEZsJ-jMmjb30d4hH84UM-kKEgDY-9lPXJLib-1mSueUx79hJjv4KExW7RWYhwC2X7QN0CTk5H8WYU/s200/cartoon_picture_of_girl_writing.jpg" width="188" /></a></div>
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1) In my previous letter you had guided me through this problem. But despite chanting all possible prayers and closing my eyes to the maximum possible, why is it that on certain days I am unable to sleep in my bedroom? At the same time, when I go and sleep next to my parents, you carry me over to wonderland in no time.<br />
<br />
2) You had asked me to cook my heart out during this vacation, and I did. I promise you I did. But why is it that chopping onions always, and I mean ALWAYS, make my eyes water? I have tried all methods. Keeping the onion in the refrigerator for some time, even keeping a match stick in my mouth. But it is not working! HELP...<br />
<br />
3) You promised me you would take complete care of me and love me till the end, and you do keep up to that promise. But at times you seem to have completely forgotten all of that and you bring along people who have no other role in my life, but to hurt me. You know I am very happy with you by my side, and the most caring family and the most lovable friends. Then why bring along such people, who do not care about me, and about whom I do not care one bit?<br />
<br />
4) You know luck is a very important thing for everyone. So why is it that you have given this very important ingredient to one cook in abundance, when the other person has not even a teaspoon of this? Don't they have to make their life sweet and sour as well? Same goes with money. Why is it that some people are heaped with so much money that they don't know what to do with it, while there are millions of people out there who don't even have the money to have three proper meals in a day?<br />
<br />
5) Why is it that every time I love some one deeply and truly, you have to make it a point for them to break my heart?<br />
<br />
P.S: I still love you a lot, and will be back to my old self in my next letter! Hoping for a reply soon :)!<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
A true lover.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1354043635434017521.post-25537164370681608472011-12-30T12:05:00.000+05:302011-12-30T12:05:05.725+05:30Back to where I was<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday was indeed a terrific day. I had a weird feeling in between since my sister was in a bad mood, thanks to Baby, and Amma got angry because I had a late lunch, thanks to my blog birthday post!<br />
But finally it turned out to be super superb!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdDlclU4gey6cHy0CeSGdXgbn69ig_dA4tMQ7Ra56gJ4EKS05fcgyzB410qlbEm699tknl8n1nOTDB4uMHtkmr5Fy_IItYZm0tRGwLIkF3SsSRYCuJRexvtaWy70z4v5-bDosayvmiZE/s1600/Girl_blowing_bubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdDlclU4gey6cHy0CeSGdXgbn69ig_dA4tMQ7Ra56gJ4EKS05fcgyzB410qlbEm699tknl8n1nOTDB4uMHtkmr5Fy_IItYZm0tRGwLIkF3SsSRYCuJRexvtaWy70z4v5-bDosayvmiZE/s200/Girl_blowing_bubbles.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Achan insisted we take Baby to the park, and we did. I guess I enjoyed more than him, because I bought a bubbles bottle and roamed around the entire park blowing bubbles. It felt so good, felt like I was a kid with no worries nor tensions. Life was so much better than, wasn't it? I am sure all of you would have got that forward, which I don't really remember completely. But indeed it was the best time, when all that hurt were wounded knees and when the tallest and highest position we ever wanted to be in was on Daddy's shoulders. We ended the day with hot garlic bread and a game of Scrabble. In fact, it has been a routine at home to end the day with a game of coins. Baby is a lot more excited in playing that since he can go around giving everyone the required number of coins, in each turn. I seldom win, thanks to Achan's exemplary vocabulary. But it is always fun.<br />
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So I am planning to spend NYE with a movie and making a 2012 calendar. What do you think?<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">according to the life-a-holic</div>Writing Beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03333799489599973639noreply@blogger.com13