tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72749048197453804082024-03-18T13:13:59.360+05:30A few words of a dumb heartNamratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-72329386924247879242015-04-07T10:04:00.000+05:302015-04-07T10:04:53.920+05:30Embrace It!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Full of up and down,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s what life is on average,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes you’re the king, sometimes clown,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You’re the curtain raiser of the stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s your strength, your flaws,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All yours to decide,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No one else to label on your jaw,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or any namesake to append otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Hold together darlings,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Say to your dear teddy,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That the sky is our limit,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not going to stop between.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We are sisters,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bonded over grief, out of denial,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No one can break it,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No matter how much they try.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Often it happens in our life that we let others step in
and let them label us. They label us cute, loving, caring, beautiful,
brilliant, vibrant etcetera. But these are the labels that we love to flaunt on
ourselves along with hearts and stars. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet this is the dewy part of the story. And
unfortunately most of the cases are not these. Most of the time people step in
far beyond they should and they call you different names like crazy, stupid,
dumbass, loser, cynical, bitch, slut whatever else. Whatever that you wouldn’t
want to be labeled as. And we let them do this also. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But question comes WHY?
Why do we allow them, why do we take a back seat and let them handle our life
as if it’s some public issue to comment upon? Who are they? Who are they to
hurt your emotions? Who are they to judge upon you? Who are they to make you feel
low? To take you granted? They are just </span><i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">nobody</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. If
they were somebody then they would have never hurt you this way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The most important love in this world is </span><i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">love
for yourself</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">.</span><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Until you have don’t love
yourself, you can’t love others. You will be a caged bird. A caged bird who
sings, entertains others but inside itself it’s full of pain and scars. Do you
want to be the caged bird? No? Then darling, learn to </span><i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">know,
love and embrace</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> whatever you are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I learnt this after a long battle of dignity, after losing
myself again and again, after that the space inside me which deserves to be
filled with love, instead it was filled with dejection and projection. They
were no body to tell me what to do or what not. They were not my parents, hence
had no right. Do hell! It’s me who allowed them. My fault.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I should have stopped them and showed the exit. For which
I have suffered enough. So my dear friend, hold on a while, and think are you labeled
the way you don’t want to be? Think that is there anyone who has interfered more
in your life than they should have? Are there any weeds around you? Their Then
tell them that the show is over, they can get the coats to home. Because life
is precious. You are precious, friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLA6X9cNs_30_g7rKLxNryUI9qrhsim-PDrm4C5eo_NkBh5D70-N7kmQIcN7tsAQytC7YP2TwUwsndhl8DKNPpuJAvl1A7XLfIxWl6y8qoRc4gCByVSjwMsdv1NaSsYyCxy7Jhv4rO4S4/s1600/hug-yourself-20130527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLA6X9cNs_30_g7rKLxNryUI9qrhsim-PDrm4C5eo_NkBh5D70-N7kmQIcN7tsAQytC7YP2TwUwsndhl8DKNPpuJAvl1A7XLfIxWl6y8qoRc4gCByVSjwMsdv1NaSsYyCxy7Jhv4rO4S4/s1600/hug-yourself-20130527.jpg" height="400" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source- Google Image</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Linking the post to <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">A-Z Challenge</span></a> and also to <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.in/2015/04/mag-264.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Magpie Tales</span></a>.</span></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com181tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-90846333173554420822015-04-05T20:24:00.000+05:302015-04-05T20:56:20.480+05:30Dreams And Destiny<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He kicked the stone with all the frustration built up
inside him. The tiny body fled in the night sky landing far away, unscathed.
The temperature was down, still the day’s warmth was intact in some part. He
drank from the bottle, swearing under breath, tears trembling in his eyes. <i>How
many days more? Months? Years? How much more? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The questions had turned mute like the night. He had left
everything behind to go along with his dreams. He went against his parents’
wish, refused to bend down to friends’ comments. The only thing evident in his
mind was his dream. For that dream he woke up every morning. For that dream he
breathed everyday. Before he knew it, his dream had replaced his life. They
pervaded everywhere like the smell of burning cheese that you can’t avoid. But
now he felt like it’s done. He can’t do it anymore. Even after giving his best
the dream kept eluding him like that girl in white dress ascending from heaven,
leading you into the labyrinth. And he doesn’t know how long he can keep going
after it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So then? It’s done. It’s over. As they keep saying it’s
in your destiny. So he will simply blame on his destiny and move on? He head hurt with it. He felt like falling
from great height.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He had no idea what to do. He had no idea how to keep the
struggle going on. He didn’t know when to quit. He didn’t know who is going to
win, his hope or everyone’s prediction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Also what he didn’t know that the very next day he would
bump into someone who would give him a big hand into the next step towards his
dream. He also didn’t know by next year his name would be in air. He also didn’t
know that within few years he would become someone else’s muse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Who knows what else is there in tomorrow? Who knows how
far it is before your dream actually becomes a reality? Who knows who between
your dream and destiny will win? May be it’s just you standing between these
two. May be you just left when there was only one step left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A little note: I rarely write on abstract topic because I
am not that good at it. I start somewhere and end somewhere I hadn’t
contemplated. The same thing happened above too. But I had to write about it. I
just couldn’t help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I won’t believe if you say anyone walks on the earth without
the weight of dream inside them. Everyone has got a dream of their own. It
might not be as convincing as yours, yet it’s theirs. Some dream of getting
successful, some dream of fame, some dream of being rich, some just dream of
dreams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some dream to be <i>the best</i> in something, some dream
to just make new records, while some dream to be wrapped up like me to stay
inside the fragrance of stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some dream of love, some dream of marriage, some dream of
children, while some dream of getting old in their partner’s arm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dreams can be silly, dreams can be funny, dreams can be
far, dreams can be yearning. Dreams can knock on the door or bump in the crowd.
Dreams can be the flash of smile or dreams can be waves around. Dreams can be
anything but unreal. And they don’t leave you, it’s you who leave their hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Remember that everyone had a point in their life when
they wanted to discard their dream and move on. Among them who didn’t, the next
day’s sun was the brightest in their life. It has happened with anyone’s name
you read on covers or credit rolls or some billboards. Just a little more to go.
That’s all you need.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeC9TL4rB7i0QdvD7VPJMiaqJtyQ66f0IRDGMYLVQKSvhfLofTedQ7TuNKv41Nk7yvIKPn4dnDZ-ulEYOkp-HyvVMqIHJMaAl4X2PEN198yZqjihOst4Mo3J7oePDNHxp2qh3p73secM/s1600/1370771268-157313623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeC9TL4rB7i0QdvD7VPJMiaqJtyQ66f0IRDGMYLVQKSvhfLofTedQ7TuNKv41Nk7yvIKPn4dnDZ-ulEYOkp-HyvVMqIHJMaAl4X2PEN198yZqjihOst4Mo3J7oePDNHxp2qh3p73secM/s1600/1370771268-157313623.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Image</td></tr>
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Linking the post to <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A-Z Challenge</a>.</div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-59729491750049705082015-04-04T23:53:00.000+05:302015-04-04T23:53:00.969+05:30C for ... Child<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sana paced through along the length of dusty corridor
like some maniac bat-bitten old lady. The pressure cranked inside her making
her heave hollow breathes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Damn Danny! Damn it” She looked at him expecting some
kind of solution yet he looked as clueless as her. No one in there knew what to
do. Not Angela who was on verge of crying. Not Andy who was jarred with so many
feelings and confessions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calisto MT, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In fifteen minutes they needed to show up at judge with
father of the child. That irresponsible shameless person who didn’t even
recognize Angela when she showed up with her baby bump, had blamed her, they
were expecting that same fool to show up before judge along with the crowd just
as much ceremoniously as the adoption formalities needed. So that her baby
won’t be abandoned, </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">family-less</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> growing up on country-service fund, wearing
hands down clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The lanky office boy appeared again, informing them that
it is their turn. Angela looked pathetically at the parking lot, begging that
the expectant fool will show up. She prayed that at least this time she will be
less embarrassed. At least for once she deserved to be held along. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They all prepared to enter the room. They all hoped there
would be some way to convince the judge that adoption could be done solely by
mother without any intervention of father. There seemed no sense in this law.
It was like either pull your socks up full and live in warmth under fire and if
your socks is torn then you may roll in snow and rot in cold. Sana and Danny
entered together holding hands praying for some miracle. Angela sighed heavily clutching
the broken heart and rose from her seat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“One minute Angela.” Andy’s voice pushed Angela back to
the seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Andy came and slowly went down on his knees. His face was
near to her, so near that it reminded her of the human warmth she had missed
from a long time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“We knew this situation was a probability. And we had
discussed it before. Me, Sana and Danny. Well everyone hit dead end I had one
way out.” He shook his head. “I didn’t tell anyone then and had hoped that I wouldn’t
have to tell it anyone ever.” He paused. “But before anything I need your
assent.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What are you talking about?” Angela voice croaked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Andy popped in his lips. He knew when the words are out,
the control will be gone from his hand. Rest will be mere repercussion. He
swallowed the silence and carefully formed the word. “Since the day you walked
into the apartment with Sana, since the moment my eyes fell on you, I am in
kind of awe with you. For days I have struggled with it, fought with it, unsure
of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Angela shifted a bit in place. But she didn’t speak. She was
scared for any words to ruining everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have never been so driven in my life. Every time I am around
you I feel protective of you. I feel good when you laugh, the best when I am
the reason. I hate it when something out of blue brings back the pain to you. I
want to bust all those bad memories. I want to kiss away your pain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Shit” Andy muttered “I sound kinda teenager.” A crack of smile appeared on Angela’s face
behind the flow of hot tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Andy lowered his head, staring at the narrow feet of
Angela for a minute before looking back at her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Angela.” He spoke gently like her name was some fragile
popsicle. “It might not be the perfect place or time. I might not even be the
perfect guy. Yet you once said perfect is boring. So would you just like to
give me a chance to make our life bit more imperfect and less boring?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “And also would
you give me the opportunity to be the father of the child in that room? No. Not
because my sister needs the baby and it will solve all the trouble. It’s because I want to hold you in there. You
don’t deserve to go alone all your own. Would you Angela?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The answer was there in Angela’s eyes as she sat there
biting her lips, her hands caressing the mound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A few days back when her results were positive she was
shocked and but she couldn’t kill the child no matter how much easier that
sounded than raising a child all alone. She felt like the child was a blessing.
Not exactly the way you pray for but the child was blessing in disguise. She
met Sana though her business and became friends. Sana and Danny were trying for
a child from past six years. When Angela came to know about it, she offered
them for the adoption. Not because she didn’t love her child. Rather she wanted
a better future for her child. She didn’t have anyone. What if something
happens to her, where the child would end up? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sana offered her a place to stay as a tenant to her
brother, Andy. Angela didn’t know she would ever meet a person who will come up
over all the prejudices and become best friend. And now? He was confessing his
feelings? Where did it all come from? She couldn’t think of anything else than
this godly child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT4szoSdKELq1jNx5kOz17zV9mITwmhkl0FqFM5nLf3gMszMZfyfQGUYzDdmwFAy6_4M8MJBgPTj1nl3ZRBqdwUtqFzg-UakswZwpYTyhlYMXbBciyPpsx3SPIxIzTiQg-zAa22w4qZg/s1600/Baby-Naming-Day-Baby-Blessing-209959_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT4szoSdKELq1jNx5kOz17zV9mITwmhkl0FqFM5nLf3gMszMZfyfQGUYzDdmwFAy6_4M8MJBgPTj1nl3ZRBqdwUtqFzg-UakswZwpYTyhlYMXbBciyPpsx3SPIxIzTiQg-zAa22w4qZg/s1600/Baby-Naming-Day-Baby-Blessing-209959_image.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Image</td></tr>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-49913606849637177822015-04-02T23:43:00.000+05:302015-04-02T23:47:39.914+05:30B for...Bravery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">It was not
easy for her, no at all usual. Girls don’t answer back on face, that’s what she
was brought upon. Girls are not meant to stand tall and look into the eyes,
that’s what she was taught since beginning. But whenever those boys tailed
around her, passing ugly comments shamelessly, she used to forget all those lessons
that her parents had knotted inside her mind. She used to go blank out of rage
momentarily. But never reply back. She would cry every night, muffling her face
in the pillow. How long would this go on? How many more years? How many more
girls will be dragged naked? How many lives will be spoiled in the circle of
pain, regret and revenge? Lots of question, no answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">But today every
boundary was crushed. As usual she was going for her college when one boy had
gripped a corner of her dupatta while she was crossing the road. In a flicker
of anger, she turned around and her hand flung in air, landed in a tight slap
on the boys face. Everything froze around her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">She stood
firm there, reaching to his eyes with hers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">“Don’t you
dare.” She repeated tight lipped. “Don’t you dare to ever come before or else..”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">“Aaaee.. you
girl..you don’t know what we are...” One of the boy from the group came
speedily towards but stopped when her burning eyes turned to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">“What are
you? Who are you? What will you do? Will you kidnap me? Will you rape me? Will
you burn me with acid? Will you sell my flesh? You dirty spineless from gutter.
Have you ever seen yourself? Even you mother is ashamed that she fed you on her
breast. What else can you do? What else? Show me.” She stepped forward, not
moving her forceful glare. “Come. Show me what you got.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">Drops of
sweat had started to dot on the boy’s face. She laughed hard and loud as if it
was a manifestation to everyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">“You can’t do
anything. You are those limbless poor creature rolling over dirt. Go home.” She
spitted on ground and turned back, walking in the way she was two minutes back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";">For the first
minute in her life she felt secured, she had felt protected. She didn’t want
anyone else then. More than anyone’s protect she needed her self confidence. A
little bravery was all needed. She wished she done this before. It came late,
but she was happy that it came. Bravery.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oAFSyjqTiaO4B8-q1ruCxs6HMjrv_VSBOfnyBj12he4_uN8PyPwfsk7n51-8cK0DZlRLaw-CL0ivCHrMIrIdtPxBLvgIiyDCOeqsRUHMjfYYRAAklIAAtodlFEFYbghPdEcRWr0FF_o/s1600/be-brave-remember-that-bravery-is-not-the-lack-of-fear-but-the-ability-to-move-forward-in-spite-of-fear-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oAFSyjqTiaO4B8-q1ruCxs6HMjrv_VSBOfnyBj12he4_uN8PyPwfsk7n51-8cK0DZlRLaw-CL0ivCHrMIrIdtPxBLvgIiyDCOeqsRUHMjfYYRAAklIAAtodlFEFYbghPdEcRWr0FF_o/s1600/be-brave-remember-that-bravery-is-not-the-lack-of-fear-but-the-ability-to-move-forward-in-spite-of-fear-quote-1.jpg" height="320" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.picturequotes.com/bravery-quotes" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-24277644078089548522015-04-01T23:05:00.002+05:302015-04-01T23:05:34.334+05:30Acceptance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Sudha opened the door, not only
to the unwelcoming summer afternoon heat but also something quite unexpected.
Her eyes blazed, feet got cold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“Ma!” Arup spoke slowly, just a
hair louder than murmur and that bi-lettered word was enough to make her throat
dry and memories to run back home. Sweet memories, followed by bitter ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup stood outside carrying his
three year old son, Armaan. Armaan hung to his neck like some scared little monkey.
At that moment Arup might have cried, either out of pleasure of seeing his
mother after long five years or out of pity towards this motherless child who
was clinging to him furiously. But they have been through so much that somehow
even tears had deserted them, somewhere in middle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Sudha couldn’t comprehend what
was going. She had no clue what his son and grandson were doing outside all of
sudden. She didn’t call them. Not even once in last five years. Then why now?
Now that she has settled down on her and gradually mastered the skill of sharing
her feelings with these old, empty walls of house. Why now? She left the door
open in bewilderment and came inside, letting them follow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup came inside, and whispered
to his son, “Armaan, look. She is Daadi. You wanted to meet her naa? Go beta.
Go to her.” But the child refused to let the clasp around Arun’s neck loose. His
big eyes stared innocently at this gnarled emaciated unknown face next to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">A small sob escaped Sudha. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup stepped nearer to his
mother, and stood there patting the child. “Go beta. Don’t be scared.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Sudha’s trembling hand moved
forward in summoning the child. Tears cradling on her eyes broke loose in small
rivulets as Armaan left Arup’s neck to climb onto her. She held the little boy
close to her chest as if she could confine him in there. But realization tore
through the emotion as she felt his body was terribly heating up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“He is running with
temperature.” It was more of a statement than a question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup nodded, rubbing his face
with hands. “Since Kavya left us, five days back he has barely eaten anything.
He was asking for his mother only.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;"> “Kavya left?? Where? That stupid irresponsible
girl. Shameless.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup stared at his mother’s
oblivious face. He didn’t how to tell her everything. How to tell her that
Kavya didn’t deserve all these bitter words. Never once. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“Kavya is no more, Ma. She is
no more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Sudha felt as if the ground was
shaking violently and any moment it would be ripped open and gulp her down. When?
How? She was too young for any such thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">She clearly remembered, the
first time she had seen Kavya. She was a little chirrupy girl when her family
had moved to their neighborhood. Both the families had bonded instantly. Arup
and Kavya were of same age, had attended same school and college. All of sudden
one day Arup had come, confessing that they loved each other. It was shocking
for both of the families. Since that day everything went rigid between them. In
no way they could accept this relationship. Arup’s family was of higher caste. What
would the relatives say? What would the society say? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">As Arup and Kavya both had got
jobs and they left. Two months later Arup called home asking them if they could
come down to attend their marriage. And in return there was a firm denial from
both of the families. And that was also last communication between them and
their families. Both of them tried to contact to their families, cooing them,
begging them, in every occasion they got. Yet their calls were always
unanswered. Time fled by, Armaan was born and they thought that life finally
brought them the happiness they deserved. Now their family is complete. But…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“What are you saying Arup? Are
you mad? What happened to Kavya? Where is she? Tell me Arup, tell me.” A
shell-shocked Sudha held Arup’s shoulder, demanding for futile answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup fell to his knees weakly,
unable to form any word. How will he tell her the last six months, their battle
with cancer, uncountable trips of chemo, the suffering and wailing of Kavya.
How he held Kavya’s withering body while she breathed her last. How he had to
finally sell their house to pay the medical bill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">He need not to, he decided.
There is no need of that. He controlled himself and stood again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“She just died, Ma.” He fisted
all other details, refusing to let out anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Sudha nodded to him, even
though she wanted to ask him more. She knew he didn’t have strength right now
to tell her anything. Whatever happened was too much for them. It’s better not
to dig the fresh grave again. She was a mother, at least this much she could
tell about her son. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup held his hands out to
Armaan, gesturing to come back to him. But the boy didn’t. He put his head in
Sudha’s nape in refusal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“I just thought if I bring
Armaan to you at least he will eat something. From a long time he was asking
for you. Anyway we will leave now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup dragged Armaan from Sudha
and turned back to leave but stopped as Sudha spoke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">“Where are going Arup. Come
inside. Can’t you see hot it is outside and you are roaming around with a
fevered child? Get in and get freshened. And leave the boy to me. He needs
care. Not you. You can’t even take care of yourself. How will take care of a
small boy? Leave him to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">Arup turned back, staring
blankly at his mother. Finally the acceptance had come. The acceptance which
they had craved everyday, had held themselves guilty. Only if Kavya was there,
only if, he thought. But she was not. Was she the price of the acceptance that
came too late?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">He stood there, mulling over
that thought, unable to rationalize as the summer sun waned like the hatred in
Sudha and but the night rose as bewilderment in Arup.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaQDE3EE4MdCyEeqYZ-SjTilfBULOHcy1B2QpiPE72HYS4i6OTYWK0AEI6L-0KgsdFasujEVLHG7SkidW0vMSgBx6aowBvFXHZNrYlGWA17RWMmykjBlHB07UiOXBS-P5dP19kW8c_qk/s1600/A%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaQDE3EE4MdCyEeqYZ-SjTilfBULOHcy1B2QpiPE72HYS4i6OTYWK0AEI6L-0KgsdFasujEVLHG7SkidW0vMSgBx6aowBvFXHZNrYlGWA17RWMmykjBlHB07UiOXBS-P5dP19kW8c_qk/s1600/A%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Centaur","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14.3000001907349px; line-height: 20.0200004577637px; text-align: justify;">Linking this post to the </span><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">A to Z challenge</span></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14.3000001907349px; line-height: 20.0200004577637px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red;">.</span> </span></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-29567557222461453922015-03-27T16:40:00.001+05:302015-03-27T16:40:51.214+05:30A-Z Challenge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember the last April when everyone’s blog was
buzzed alive, everyone talking ecstatically of how fantastic it is to be able
to write everyday of a month and how amazing they felt when they were done with
the challenge. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, I am talking about <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/p/a-to-z-challenge-sign-uplist-2015.html?m=1" target="_blank">A-Z challenge. </a>The challenge is like you
need to write and post at least one article each day of April except the
Sundays, the posts need to be chronologically order from A to Z. So 26 posts in
a month. Isn’t wonderful?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Last time when it started, I had little knowledge
about it. Apart from that I was in training and didn’t have access to my laptop.
I just wandered into everyone’s blog wishing I could also participate. But now
I have got a chance and I am not going to miss it anymore. Besides I was
seeking for a powerful kick that will drive me to write everyday. Now here it
is as A to Z challenge. I am so exciteddddddd. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a ritual of this challenge the participant also
need to reveal the topic he or she is going to write about, just to give the readers
a better perception about what they are going to stumble into everyday. And
believe me, it was really tough for me decide. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At first I skimmed through general topics like life,
love, relationship, movies, books etc. But then I thought, <i>am I really comfortable
in writing about any of these for a whole month? Are they that connected to me
and my brain? What is that I can write about relentlessly? </i>And then it
clicked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Besides everything, if you go through my posts, it’s
more about people in general and how their feelings lifted them up, turned them
special, making me to write about them. I am no relationship-specialist or love
guru. There are tons of books and hundreds of movies I need to watch. Life??? That’s not an
option. So I have always been writing about what I observe around me, what I see
when I am the one staring at the crowd where everyone is busy enough not to
ponder over my weird staring. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So here it is. My theme for A to Z challenge will be
PEOPLE & EMOTIONS. It might sound bit generic but this is all I can write
about without banging my head on the wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can also take up the challenge too. You just need
to go to the site and sign up for it. Just four more days to go, lots of
preparation to be done. I am so charged up that even while working in office I
am pondering over the list. I hope that whatever I come up with, it will be entertaining
enough. My dear friends! get ready for this voyage. Because I can assure that
it will be anything but not memorable one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-58793412402869115222015-03-08T22:44:00.000+05:302015-03-08T22:44:18.176+05:30Wine Bottle And The Scavenger <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cLBGSqcGY4X2WPMAs-IoGXySbP5toWUnwE-CeA42Fr09Eeiw5OjMRDLB4pxe2mAoDcbIntu12yqiFJmS99G1GvtM3AE0uIMJ0zwr6o5IwGo1ACe3MEhJdgtuh2mY1hez8BB2-ak8qTw/s1600/29a3dbc7de37698dcfc9243cbe67e50d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cLBGSqcGY4X2WPMAs-IoGXySbP5toWUnwE-CeA42Fr09Eeiw5OjMRDLB4pxe2mAoDcbIntu12yqiFJmS99G1GvtM3AE0uIMJ0zwr6o5IwGo1ACe3MEhJdgtuh2mY1hez8BB2-ak8qTw/s1600/29a3dbc7de37698dcfc9243cbe67e50d.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image- Google Image</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b style="color: #0c343d;">This poem is a salute to all the women who have come forward, leaving behind the darkest memories and also all the women who held their hand in this journey in form of mother, sister, daughter, friend or a well-wisher. </b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">I, discarded, polluted, unwanted,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">They held me in their clutches,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Chewed on my flesh,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Sucked the love out,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Patches etched of their nibbles,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And left on the gravel.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">I, emptied, burnt, ruined,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Rolling from here to there,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Under the polished shoes,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">What the use of an empty bottle,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">After the wine is consumed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And you just happened by,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">In a hopeless noon,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">You held me in your long hand,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Eyed me with curious gaze,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">As if I am a piece of moon.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">The sun was moving west,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And you were a scavenger,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">But you didn't put me into dirt,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Instead took me home,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And turned me into art.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Those tickling strokes of brushes,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">You painted me in red and blue,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Dipped in bright colors,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">I was afraid of the darkness,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">You blew me few breathes anew.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">You put in your fireplace,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Placed a bunch of rose,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And stared at me amused,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">While I glintered shyly,</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">More than any of your showpiece.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;">PS:</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">Dear men,</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">You have asking us from years that what is that we women need. I can see it has driven you in such a way to the brink of frustration that you are losing you hair in patches and you babble in you sleep. I think it's time that we should come forward and have a one-to-one conversation. Here I have tried a tad bit to appease your curiosity and return you back your sleep.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">We don't need your protection,</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">We need your support.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">We don't need your shelter,</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">We need your respect.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">We don't need your sympathy,</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">We need your love.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">Can you give us just this much? Than any beach holiday or diamond necklace this will give us more pleasure. On the eve of women's day can you just promise your lady this much?</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #073763;">Yours truly,</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">A woman.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #660000;">PSS: This might be illegal to talk about Something that is banned by govt. yet I would. Because I give shit about what govt. is going to do. May be this blog space will be shut down. What more??? But I need to speak out and I will.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #660000;">Two days back I watched the documentary based on Nirbhaya case. I curiously, patiently and attentively watched the hour long video. And finally concluded that it's our fault. It's undoubtedly our fault. The way we have moulded our society with prejudices, this is where we are now. A rapist is defining our girls shamelessly. When that culprit dared to speak that the girls from good household don't roam around at night with boys and it's justified what they did and that was to teach lesson to other girls, his tongue should have been pulled out and his balls castracted with acid right away. How dared he to even open his filthy mouth. Who the rats ass he is to define guidelines of good girl? Rot you moron, you psycho. Come before me once and I will show you what you deserve. I challenge you scumbag. Accept it and prove your manhood.</span><br />
<br /></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-53467447622664273532015-02-20T17:00:00.000+05:302015-02-20T17:00:01.171+05:30Solitude<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
They don't say<br />
Just whisper aloud<br />
With heaps of 'oh God' 'oh Lord'<br />
Over my shoulder<br />
That it's sad to see me in black<br />
All alone in the wanderer<br />
Being alone, left behind<br />
To stuggle<br />
To mourne<br />
To cry<br />
Refrained from the excite<br />
Trying to make the ends meet.<br />
<br />
I offer them my smile<br />
A customized widowed one<br />
Where lips are moulded to a line<br />
A pretty shroud to my delight<br />
What will they understand<br />
I was already buried inside<br />
Knees folded to chin I have cried<br />
In the stench of sour alcohol<br />
In the crankle of profanity<br />
Everyday lil' more terrified.<br />
<br />
Now that, has arrived solitude<br />
Like lost kite from childhood<br />
With forgotten dreams<br />
A wipe to endless grief<br />
Celebrate it<br />
Enjoy it<br />
Embrace it<br />
The pleasure of solitude to reap.<br />
<br />
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<br />
This post is for poetry jam. It's an wonderful site giving weekly poetryhere prompt. You can visit them <a href="http://poetryjaam.blogspot.in/2015/02/loneliness-solitude.html?=1" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
PS: Thank heavens! It took me two whole damn days to put that pic above. Without the post would be incomplete.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-57357627707840875162015-01-16T01:09:00.000+05:302015-01-16T01:09:06.353+05:30New Year Post! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 14.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Happy New Year!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 14.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Happy Makar
Sankranti!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 14.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Happy Pongal!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 14.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">To all!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">This is first post of
this year and I am already 15 days snailing late. Yet I am happy that even though it
didn't seem feasible, I made it here. Due to situation, work pressure and
health issues; I didn't think I could make it to here. But I did. And it was possible
because of your love and appreciation (& your sweet words too ;)).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">First of all, a very
very happy new year to all my friends. I wish that this year brings you all
that you kept complaining about in its ancestor year. Well! Mine one started
with a kick off vacation and visit to my cousin's house. I enjoyed so much
there that finally due to tiredness and sudden climate change I got severe cold
and fever. But now I am fine and all set to boom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">In a quick peek, if I
say then last year was a tumultuous one for me, a year that I will remember
forever. It was a year where a cried the most, I laughed the most, I lost in
huge and again what I gained was no less too. It's the year which gave me a
name, a recognition that I always dreamed of. The journey was knee-jerking
nonetheless it was memorable. I met a lot of people, made new friends. I got to
know about different cultures and states. On the other hand I was dragged into
some unfair matters where my conscience didn't allow me to go with and I took
the stand. I had to pay the price but my peace was saved at the end of the day.
And in the end I came out as a sharp, bold, skilled and strong person, both
emotionally and intellectually. I am happy the way year 2014 ended. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Now before I ramble a
lot about this and that, let me spill the set of resolutions of this year.
Everyone has their share of flaws. And the person who knows how overcome those
hurdle is winner at the end. Because I believe<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>you are the biggest competitor
of yourself and your yesterday is the biggest challenge for your today.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>So follow are the my set of
resolution. Let's have a peek:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">1.Give More Of Myself
To Me:</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> The first foremost for yourself is you and when you forget this thing you regret. People
started to ignore you, say unpleasant things before your face not caring how
you will feel about it. And at that time you start cursing yourself. But
instead of curse, start loving yourself. More than anyone’s love you need your
own love. So this year I hope to love more to myself. It may seem selfish, yet
I would not ignore myself. Little pampering, small rewards and bit more of
adrenaline rush is what I am planning for myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">2.Help The Needed At
Least Once In A Month:</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> Today the society has become so
self-centered that the future seems really destructive. The day is not far away
when your own blood will be against your life. No one has time to look about
the begging child at road side. No one has the time to stop by and call
ambulance when someone is dying.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Why
me only? Others can do.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>This
has become the primary and common notion. But before preaching others I should
look at myself. Have I helped anyone? May be! But from now on this may be will
turn into<span class="apple-converted-space"> a firm </span><i>yes!I have.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>From now on I will help at least
once in a month to someone who is in need. Be it monetary help or emotional
support. I won't be struggling with those typical questions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">3.More Work, More Fun:</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Once I stepped into the IT industry I got to know what real responsibility
is. I understood how important it is to think before act and most importantly
act. When I started working on my first project, it was tough it had a strict
timeline. I was new and I had to give extra hours to learn and complete the
work. But when the project ended, the hard work was appreciated, I was on
heaven. I had the exact feeling of finding that blue lotus in deep valleys of
Himalaya. And slowly that appreciation and affection of teammates is turning me
towards to work. Now I am in no mood to stop. I will push myself to edge. I
will work more, try to improvise myself and give my best. And at the end I will
reward myself too. I will have fun. I will enjoy every moment. If life gives me
lemon, I will make lemonade. Because who know<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>what's
there in tomorrow. Today is yours, live it to fullest.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">4.Start Counting:</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">It seems to be high time to start counting two biggest currencies of life.
Penny and Time.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Time is money
and Money is time</i>. We all know this. Yet since childhood I have never kept
track of either. I am a chronic procrastinator. And I have suffered a lot in
past, have been scolded profusely by mom, dejected by friends. That was okay.
But now the situation has changed and responsibility has increased by many
folds. Now I am on my own. I need to pay my own bills. My work-hours are being
counted. I have to balance my full-time job, my hobbies and personal life. So
before the matter slips out of my hand, I will try to keep a track of
both. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">5.Steel The
Determination:</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> There are a few projects and a
few ideas in mind from a long time. But I am unable to work on them. First
because of poor management of time. And secondly due to lack of determination.
But this year I want to finish them. At least at the end of year I will have
satisfaction that these projects are not piled up and ignored.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">6.More Sorry,
More Thanks Yous':</span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> If someone asks what is your
weakness. My answer will be 'people management'. I try but I fail and I suffer.
I am the one missing from the group. I am the one friends complaint about a
lot. But from now I will try not to give them any chance to complaint. I will
be a good friend who they can count in social gatherings. For that I am
planning to schedule my time for friends and family. I will try to communicate
with them (whatsup doesn’t count in it) and at least once in a month. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">7.Learn At Least One
New Language: </span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">This has been in my wish list from
along time. I want to widen my linguistic arena to a new milestone. I want to learn
one more language. And I will. Everyday I will take out only fifteen minutes
for it and hope at the end of this year I will master over that language.</span><span style="color: #215868; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><u><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">8.Read Everyday! Write
Everyday!: </span></u></b><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"> Reading gives me a chance to escape from this confusing
way around and let my imagination to travel to anywhere anytime. With turning
pages, I cocoon myself with the imagination of the writer between the lines. It
gives me the solace. It doesn’t question my weird ways like others. Exactly the
same with writing. It allows me to open up, express what is clamped inside me.
And I want to make it a habit. Take some time everyday to write. Anything. Even
small notes matter. But write something everyday and read something everyday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Well! That’s all. That’s
all for next 350 days. I hope that I will keep them because people near to me
say that I am a ‘crazy’ girl. And I know craze will drive me up the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Don't forget to drop by and tell me how was your new year? What is new added in your list. I am with all my eager bunny ears.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love Life! Courtesy-Google Image</td></tr>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-40491669937604150902014-12-25T16:03:00.000+05:302014-12-25T16:03:18.608+05:30What will you ask from your Santa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I know the concept of <b>Santa</b> <b>Cluas</b> is
pure myth and childish. He is just a legendary character. Neither anyone has
ever seen it nor has any evidence that would trail us to the place of Santa. So
a big portly joyful man with pounds of beard covering his face, wearing red,
laughing and singing, shouting ho-ho-ho and carrying a bag full of gifts, is mere an illusion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Yet, just for a while, keeping all the logics aside,
let the child inside us imagine that there is Santa, who will come to you on
the night before Christmas and silently slip something you wish for in the
hanging stockings, something that you would have been banging your legs before
your parents to bring. Then? What would you wish for?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Let me guess. A beach house, a month long vacation to
some exotic place, a handsome guy or pretty girl, whichever is your pick,
straight out of dream, a successful career, big promotion, name and fame. That’s
what adults would wish for. By the time we grow up, our mind is so adulterated
and disciplined by the societies need and our need that the only thing we see
is ourselves. We are so busy to even pause a while and think back of </span><i><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">what
is going around</span></i><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">before the destruction
has inched in before us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">When I was around six years old and barely could speak
Merry Christmas, I wished for a sister. A sister, with whom I would share my
bed and my gossips. I would take her hand and walk her around. I would bring
her chocolates of my share. I would spend in her choice of toy from my pocket
money. I would warn her against the perverts. I would not let any boy make her
cry. And if it happened the guy would not be alive to take another single
breath. I would be the proud and fierce protective elder sister. I became an
elder sister but to a cute lil boy. I won’t say I regret it but still, I craved
for a sister.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">When I was around fifteen years old, an age where
hormones get a mind of their own and your brain becomes a complete useless puddle,
I wanted somehow to bump to my then bollywood heartthrob. I wished to talk to
him, impress him, surprise him somehow. I wanted to go out with him, pose
before shutterbugs holding his hand, become a front-page news. Ah! What a silly
wish. And I was so desperate that time that you can replace all the ‘wished’ in the lines with ‘was
dying’. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Now that I am twenty-two this Christmas, do you know
what I wish for? I think you will laugh at me when I say my unrealistic wish.
This time I wish from Santa to take me to a world, where no one will be killing
someone else for their religion. No one will be shameless enough to say that a
girl was raped because she was using a mobile phone and no one will be ridiculous
enough to support them. No one will be butchered because they loved someone
from other caste. No girl will be burnt alive because her parents could not
afford the skyscraper demands from her in-laws. No child will be pumped in to
death because some a$*hole doctor diagnosed its gender as female. And because I
tired here. I am tired of accepting all these bullshit. I am tired of realizing
this mindlessness of people and this imbalance between progression of science
and contraption of people’s mind. I don’t want to be a part these people. I
want to go away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I don’t whether my wish will be fulfilled or not, but
yet before going to bed I wish for this and hope that tomorrow in the eve of
Merry Christmas my wish will be fulfilled. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">On this pretext, I would love to know what is your
wish for this Christmas? Please do comment. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: purple;">P.S: The post was supposed to be posted
yesterday night only. But I have a bunch of crazy friend who don’t think I
should even write in Christmas. Hope this procrastination will be forgiven. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKKVN_mZpLx0-cvZ9asILgCDr-m37GxyQ80mbo985eOdFkGbeQ06GSG4BP15X7sRJ3cNdHR42x_hsKAoW9Np3VoeLB4mxQ0ZodWToEonRpS85ZwJlglh-dc2XnvMkWyuLTP_Bp1VR7VU/s1600/purple-Christmas-card-with-balls-and-Agnes-M-Pahro-quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKKVN_mZpLx0-cvZ9asILgCDr-m37GxyQ80mbo985eOdFkGbeQ06GSG4BP15X7sRJ3cNdHR42x_hsKAoW9Np3VoeLB4mxQ0ZodWToEonRpS85ZwJlglh-dc2XnvMkWyuLTP_Bp1VR7VU/s1600/purple-Christmas-card-with-balls-and-Agnes-M-Pahro-quote.jpg" height="320" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source-Google Image</td></tr>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-30731866363284378832014-12-21T22:30:00.000+05:302014-12-21T22:30:04.331+05:30P.K. Movie Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source- Google Image</td></tr>
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<b>Director: Rajkumar Hirani</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Casting: </span>Aamir Khan</b></div>
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<b> Anushka Sharma<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>Sushant Singh Rajput</b></div>
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<b> Boman Irani</b></div>
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<b> Sanjay Dutt</b></div>
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<b> Saurabh Sukla</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Screenplay by: Abhijat
Joshi<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Rajkumar Hirani </span><span style="font-family: Californian FB, serif;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Californian FB, serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">This weekend was real awesome for me. At least it was
not sulky like past few weekends. And all the credit goes to Rajkumar Hirani’s </span><i style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">tolly</i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">.
Yesterday I went to theatres to watch P.K which itself is rare. I was skeptical
about it as it eats up lots of time to go to the theatre and I didn’t have time
to check out the reviews of the movie and before I could do so, my friends had
booked ticket. But the moment the movie started, Anushka’s voice floated in, a
feeling of relaxation settled in and I knew I was not going to regret coming to
theatre.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Well what I didn’t know was this movie will enchant
me so much to blog about it. The story unwrapped smoothly around us,
introducing a flappy eared Aamir Khan arriving naked on the earth from some
other universe as a blank slate, Anushka Sharma gracious (except than her duck-like
lips reconstruction surgery) in Belgium fighting for a concert ticket, Sushant
Singh Rajput copying her and adding more charm to the scene with his constant smile
and shayari. Boman Irani, Saurabh Shukla</span> It was good only that the
makers of the movie were very secretive about the movie, zipping everyone’s mouth
and increasing the height of curiosity in the audience. And the waiting was
worth enough. It paid real well. Aamir Khan dressed colorful, stealing here and
there from dancing cars, with his weird yet genuine child like curiosity will
glue you to the screen. Again his innocence, despair and dedication to the
character will make you both cry and laugh at the same time. It really
happened. Half of the time my friend was sobbing next to me. So better watch
the movie with a big tissue roll. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Though it’s not as perfect as 3-Idiots(movies like 3
idiots happen by mistake, I guess. No one can go and make it), it took me more
than 24 hours and several replays in my mind to come out of its charm and realize
the bumps in the movie. Towards the end the movie was kind of unsettling. It
could have been better. The story portrayed by Anushka Sharma is actually from
the book she had authored and it is revealed at the end which is totally
unnecessary. The role of Sushant Singh, Sanjay Dutt and Boman Irani is very
much shortened and seems gulped up by Aamir and Anushka pair. Though it’s not a
trouble as there won’t be a moment where Aamir will let you down. Still I wanted
other characters to bloom more on the screen especially Sushant’s character.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Overall about the movie, it was a great satirical
journey with handful of questions exposing the ugly side of our society. The </span></span><span style="line-height: 19.1666660308838px;">dialogs</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> are written with authenticity and are commendable. It must have taken a great toil
of patience and observation. Story is smooth and floating with minimal
glitches. The music is great and I am downloading them right away. You won’t
regret burning a hole in your pocket for this movie. So what are you waiting
for? Come on! Go. Book your tickets right away. If not now, then when?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rating: 4 out of 5<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;">P.S: I am no professional movie reviewer
and it’s honestly my first movie review. So if I am wrong in anywhere, then you
know what to do. Till then keep smiling. </span></i></b><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">J</span></b></span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-89313902532865081202014-12-16T15:49:00.001+05:302014-12-16T15:51:27.417+05:30A Stolen Moment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coutesy- magpie tales</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I turn around,<br />
For like hundredth time,<br />
Thinking of your return,<br />
Fooled by own desire.<br />
<br />
But, hey, I see you there,<br />
From the crack in crowd,<br />
Staring at me that smugged smile,<br />
Lapping against the chaos.<br />
<br />
Oh no! I shout,<br />
People are watching out,<br />
But you don't care,<br />
Like it's now or never.<br />
<br />
You sway me in,<br />
Swifter that whistling wind,<br />
Your cool lips on mine,<br />
Salty tear start to sting.<br />
<br />
A stolen moment,<br />
I clutch it tight,<br />
Where do I hide it,<br />
So they won't learn to fly.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">This is an entry for image prompt of <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.in/2014/12/mag-250.html?m=1" target="_blank">Magpie tales.</a></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-59334609773869982482014-12-14T00:38:00.000+05:302014-12-14T00:38:49.156+05:30Things Itching At My Back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was never a newspaper seeker. It was only written piece on the earth to get my sideway glance. I would prefer a mammoth book of 600 pages written in some obscure language than it. Nothing in those large papers ever made any sense to me. But unfortunately I am right now in such a phase of life where I don't want to look like fool. And after the alia bhatt incident in Karan Johar show, I am more scared to be an idiot. So I guess you are getting the point. Now I have started reading newspaper. Getting myself updated with fresh bits. Every day!<br />
<br />
But to my wonder, I feel more stupid and lost now. It's like my whole brain has become foggy and the thin path from where my thoughts usually travel are now full with question bumps. I am tired of searching for answers, trying to console myself that this is how it is. Yet the question reverts back more stubbornly, <i>why so?</i><br />
<br />
I won't talk about Mr.Obama's lunch menu on his visit to India or our President's friendly visits to those unfriendly countries. I will talk about very local issues that happens around me.<br />
<br />
<b>1)Racism:</b><br />
Was religion not enough to divide the country millions apart? Now it has come to race. Now a days you will see many silly incident where people are attacked just because they don't look exactly like the attacker. They have a flat nose and squinty eyes. They can't speak your mother tongue. Yes! Those racial attacks. That brutal murder of young men who wanted bring revolution into our education. Tell me one thing. Where were you scoundrels when Mary Mom brought glory to our country. Where were your filthy mouth when Baichung Bhutia sweated in the ground to bring recognition to our country in the football leagues. You can cheer up Jackie Chan on screen. But the real life heros will be slaughtered. Go man! Get some humanity. I think you are the most ill bred person in this world. Go and jump off from some cliff. No one will even shed a drop of tear for you. Not even your mother.<br />
<br />
<b>2) Love campaign:</b><br />
Another thing that adorns the front page everyday is two young college-kids kissing among a bunch of maniac cheering crowd. When I first saw it, I kept staring at it longer than I should have. There were two guys kissing each other,in the front page of a leading newspaper, sharing their boundless love., celebrating freedom. <i>Kiss of love</i>, they said, it was.And the only thing that worried me, do their family read the same newspaper I am read? If they do, then God save them from the humiliation. No! No! I am not against love or relationship. And I am morden too. But I can't even imagine to support such weird baseless things. Come on guys! Think. Use your brain. Do you think our society need this at this moment. I think it's sheer wastage of energy and time that will stir more chaos into an already dishelved society.<br />
<br />
<b>3) Molestation Cases:</b><br />
Last but not least disgusted, child molestation cases. It was around three months back that I heard about it for the first time. And almost suddenly something happened. It sprouted like a bunch mushrooms and for next every two days, it will be some school, some school teacher and some child who can't even spell molestation.<br />
<br />
Be it a employee or a college student or a kindergarten, all the pages are botched with their names as victim of rapes. The recent being another rape in Delhi inside a cab. I won't go into those ridiculous details. If you haven't, then you must. It's really interesting. You will laugh your heart out at the irresponsibility of the Uber.<br />
<br />
Well, about these three topics, have you noticed anything common? Let me help you. The common thing is that in a country of millions, why this is happening again and again. Isn't there any solution to stop this permanently? Instead kissing each other on road, can't we youth stand firm against all these issues? Okay. You did a commendable job in the Nirbhaya case. But all these promises made to you, are they kept? Has the situation changed a bit? Why that unapologetic co#$@cker still alive in this world after raping five girls? Is killing among each other just because they don't share similarity with you getting us anywhere? If you have an answer, then please guide.<br />
<br />
P.S: This may sound really brash to some. But I defy to apology. I know I am not doing anything wrong. Your thought might contradict with mine. But you can't deny any of the above.<br />
<b><br /></b></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-43761397750777111232014-12-08T00:28:00.000+05:302014-12-08T00:30:33.528+05:30That Visit <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I sit next to him, two feet across the table he is sitting. The evening is lazily getting darker. I stare hard on his smugged face. Undoubtedly under that hard mask life pulsated undetected.<br />
<br />
"So how long?" My question interrupts him from his deep-inside-the-file state.<br />
<br />
He looks at me in response, a steely glace through narrowed eye. He checks me out from tip to toe. Clearly his conscience holds him back from believing the facts splayed before him.<br />
<br />
I cross my legs and lean over the table. Heat and itch both move crawling under those tight leather pants as they stretch with my new position.<br />
<br />
Finally he sighs, nodding a clear disappointment upon himself. I want to release that smile of victory, but I hold it till he admits it himself.<br />
"I told you. There is no end without me. You will be lost out in there. This is not your world played by your rules and integrity. I told you so. This is underworld, baby"<br />
<br />
He doesn't react. He never did. Not to my dyed pink head or kinky clothes that I wear to show whatever I have.<br />
<br />
"Any more questions?" I straighten on my place. Even a win as simple as this can give enormous strength.<br />
<br />
I lick my lips before breaking the silence.<br />
"The deal is still on the table, if you want."<br />
<br />
He closes the file in silence, staring a blank look straight at me, boring a hole exactly where my heart is beating loudly. It's hard to decide whether he loves me more or hates me more. Anyway it's not good for any outlawed to mess with someone working under law.<br />
I shake my head, get up and walk from there.<br />
<br />
At the door, I pause a little. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that alluring once-in-a-while smile on his face.<br />
I knew I would get that long expected visit from him today. I will be looking forward it. <br />
<br /></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-5351209738108396172014-11-12T21:42:00.001+05:302014-11-12T21:42:20.285+05:30Meeting <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">She took out the finest and most elegant one of her
wardrobe. It was a tailored black dress with fine lines of black sequins on the
front that would have fell till her knee only if she could fit in there. Age
has plumped her out. With Adele singing <i>Someone Like You </i>in the
background, she sat together with the dress and sewing box and yanked out the
stitches, careful enough not to ruin the material. It took her whole night to
get the dress fit on her. She stared at her reflection on mirror, too long,
watching the dress slowly settling along her skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">At the break of dawn she started preparation. It was
four hours of drive to the place and she didn’t want to be late. She had waited
too long to forget what was that she was waiting for. No more wait. She was
finally going to meet him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">The more time passed, the more distance she covered,
the more anxiety and nervousness crept in her. How would it feel to wake up
every morning with no more anticipation? For whose arrival would she be waiting
upon every night, staring out of the window from an empty house? She clenched
the steering wheel harder, trying to push these weird thoughts out of window
and focus on the road. Did the trick work? It would have only if her lame mind
was under her restraint. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">Finally she reached there in time. The sun was still
young in sky. Bird chirruped in unison. She parked her car in the lot. He palms
were sweating. She took out the flowers form backseat, smoothed her dress,
tucked the strand that had fallen from her tight bun, straightened her shoulder
and silently marched towards the small gathering. The crowd tore apart upon her
welcome, allowing her to grace the way. She put on a faint smile and walked
towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">He was lying there, with a like always. She rested
the flowers on him and sat next to him. It seemed age had reverse affect on
him. He looked more calm and radiant.
She wished he would open his eyes and tell her how she looked in the
dress. Fifteen years. For fifteen years she waited for him to come and talk to
her. Every night of fifteen years, she wished that, it would be the last
haunted night in her life, until two days back when she got this phone call. Finally
a tear finally rolled down her cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">Everyone stood up in attention as the priest came
upon. “It’s time my child,” The priest spoke politely to her. She just nodded,
wiping the wet trail on her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; line-height: 115%;">Before leaving she laid kiss on his cheek and
whispered, “See you again, My love. In that far land, beyond the restriction
truths and lies, beyond the restrain of right and wrong, I will meet you there.
Very soon. ” </span></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-65292561772766149392014-11-09T23:44:00.003+05:302014-11-09T23:45:41.418+05:30Heartfelt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He rushed into the classroom, afraid that he would
lose the seat. But he was lucky. It was empty and he grabbed it before catching
another breath. He sat there everyday, in the fourth row, second one from left
in that east facing room. Winter evening breeze blew from those big windows at
the back of the room. There was little time for the class to begin. The room
had started to fill in with faces, hung out of boredom and tiredness as it was
last class of the day. But he waited impatiently, his spine erect, trying to
peek through the crowd. His eyes searched for only one face. Her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">His best friend staggered in and took the vacant seat
next to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Come on dude! You are scaring the other kitten with
that look!” His friend sniggered at him. For the umpteenth time. In the past
also, his friend has tried to make him understand that the days are gone when
you stare at a girl for hours and hours in classroom unable to speak your heart
out, etch their names on the table, write anonymous love letters, still at the
end the girl marries you. These days’ girls want hunks who come to their
rescue, puncher down dozens of other guys on their way, sweep their darling off
her feet and take them on long drive in
muscle cars. Guys with six pack abs and a height over six feet top the chart.
Not the ones like him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">But he ignored his friend’s remark as always. He
loved her truly but couldn’t gather courage to confess. He knew this wasn’t
going anywhere yet he was too scared to talk to her. He thought what if she
disgusts him and backs him off. And his friend’s words had worsen the
situation, shook his confidence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Class was about to start and still there was no trace
of her. It was very unlikely of her. She was always punctual. She came with her
friends and sat in the same seat in third row everyday. That made it real
difficult for him. He had to come about twenty minutes before the class
started, before everyone, just to sit here on the seat diagonally across hers.
It was the safest place to watch her from, without any perturbation. To wonder
over her angelic face and smile that could be muse to all the cosmeticians in
the world. To keep staring at the blackish-brown thick strands of hair that
tumbles down till the end of her back. They are so unbelievably smooth and shone
like edge of silver sword. As on the last leg of day, when the room fills in
with crimson-yellow aura and the far setting sun grins through window over that
dark curtain of hair of hers. One would forget to breathe in moments like
these. They are beyond beautiful. Ethereal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally he spotted her coming towards the class. She
walked in casually, with her friends. Her head was covered with a multi-colored
scarf. And she looked more of jovial, more of splendor, more of excitement and
more of life. As if overnight she had grown wings. She laughed till her eyes
squinted. Before slipping in her usual seat, her eyes met his for a fraction of
seconds, and his heart stopped. For the first time it was any kind of reaction
from him. Even though it could be just casual, but he didn’t care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The class started, everyone settled in. His eyes were
constantly on her, studying precisely as if she were a puzzle. She unknotted
the scarf and loosened it over her shoulder. And it was shatteringly shocking. He could not
believe his eyes. The hair that he spoke of so fondly was not there anymore. It
was shorn to a neat bob. Those butchered ends fell sharp next her jaw line in
bunch. It drove him mad and angry. So much that he wanted to bang the desk off
and run out of the room. How could anyone be so merciless to slash down such a
beautiful thing? He wanted to go and shake an answer off her. But he waited
patiently, gripping the edge of the table till the class was over and students
started to leave the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">As she got up with her friends to leave, he went over
to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hey.” He spoke, fumbling out of nervousness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hi” She smiled at him, her sweet smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He stood there, kept staring at her, unable to form
words. The silence ensued. Their friends left them alone. Finally, she broke
the awkwardness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“You wanted to say something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm. Yeah. Hmm. New haircut? Good. Nice one.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thanks.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“So. All of sudden. I mean it’s good but..” He didn’t
know what to say next. His heart was aching. But he didn’t want to hurt her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She watched him struggling with himself. He was so
innocent. Like a child. It made her love him more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“ Long hair was good. But demanded a lot of time. A
lot more care.” She finished his sentence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Not fair. He shook his head in disappointment. All
the beautiful things needed time and care. Not a fair reason to slash them to
death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> “So I just cut
them down and donated.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The word caught his attention like the safety net in
a free fall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Donated? I am sorry. I didn’t get you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well! It’s difficult to understand the partiality of
the nature but there are many people in the world who are deprived of this
beauty. It may be very trifle for people like us, just a matter of few months
but there are people for whom it is priceless.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Her words sounded more philosophical than his reach,
confused him. But he didn’t interrupt her. She understood the ingoing turmoil
inside him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“There are few organizations who work over these
issues, reach out to help these people, people who lost their hair due to going through chemo, or suffering from
diseases like severe alopecia,
trichotillomania, burns, accidents etc, etc. They take your hair, make wigs and
brings smile to them. That simple.” She shrugged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That simple? He thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He froze there. He doesn’t know what triggered what,
how it initiated. Everything went blur and decelerated. It was like gravity
shifted under his feet and time forgot to tick. Every step he took toward her
was like taking a leap over one ocean. </span><i><span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Five oceans on the earth,
five steps till he reaches over, grabs her face and kisses her. Kisses her with
all the adoration and love one can convey, trying to reach the inner beauty of
her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Now he was not afraid to speak anymore. Rather he was
afraid that if he didn’t speak then he might lose her forever. The kindest soul
and prettiest heart forever. The words came out by themselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“I loved you.” He said, tangled in her breath. “And I
fell in more love with you after this moment. And I am still falling.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She chuckled at him. “I knew. But it took six months
of time, fourteen inch of my hair to make you confess. I expect you to fall
little deeper for me, mister. So keep falling.” And with a mischievous she
returned to their kiss again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>One of my adorable blogger friend donated her
fourteen inch hair to an organisation called “Children With Hair Loss”. It is a
big and commendable leap and needs lots of courage. Please do read her <a href="http://mycactusdress.blogspot.com/2014/11/donate-your-hair.html" target="_blank">here</a>. This post is in honor of her good deed. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-29898547682833683762014-09-07T20:41:00.000+05:302014-09-07T21:50:36.399+05:30Caught Hold!Got Stuck!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By the time she heard them screaming <i>“Fire!Fire!</i>”,
it was too late as his mouth was where it should not be and his hands too. Her
eyes forced open hurrying him off slithering on her and gathering the clothes
that lay in astral direction. Her hand held the knob and turned it to open but…The
door was locked and they were stuck in the bathroom till the fire extinguisher
team rushed in to bang it open. The next day a fresh, spicy news sizzled the
front of TV, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Popular bollywood actress caught with her meditation
guru in a hotel room.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">This post is a part of <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Write Over the Weekend">Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Indian Bloggers">Indian Bloggers</a> by BlogAdda.</strong></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">My Five Sentences Story for- </i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><a href="http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/5-september-2014/" target="_blank">Friday Frictioneer-Flame</a></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Pwyea9xj7h-ZF7GKlF-cGWZ8QJvtfSioKCCsx9stEvy1zjV8X2pfvutJASnd8aM0g4bOA4Uqsw-7LC823AHAaifeAR33pAKX5zOCBnymgcEKl5AR2aWzJsF5nGX5mV8C99Une8F_W9o/s1600/campfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Pwyea9xj7h-ZF7GKlF-cGWZ8QJvtfSioKCCsx9stEvy1zjV8X2pfvutJASnd8aM0g4bOA4Uqsw-7LC823AHAaifeAR33pAKX5zOCBnymgcEKl5AR2aWzJsF5nGX5mV8C99Une8F_W9o/s1600/campfire.jpg" height="320" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/5-september-2014/" target="_blank">Image Source</a></td></tr>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-41966004115991686132014-08-31T20:19:00.000+05:302014-08-31T20:19:40.478+05:30Where was I?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It feels strange to sit here with my laptop in my lap
and pour my heart out on MS-sheets. Long six months. Ah!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Well! As they
say whatever happens, it’s for your good only. You just need to hold faith and
understand the undersigned boards of fate. For five months out of those six
months I was away, locked in a guarded heaven. I am not exaggerating here when
I say <i>heaven</i>. It was truly a
heaven from every angle and got a name too, that’s “Infosys Mysore Campus” –
world’s largest corporate university. A sanctuary! An oasis! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Everything has a price and I had to pay it too. I was
away from my <i>dil ka tudka</i> (piece of heart), my laptop and also from such
sweet people like you guys! I can’t tell you how much I missed you all. I don’t
know how many times I was desperate to blurt out everything , good or bad, dark
or bright, sweet or acidic everything and anything like I used to. But writing
a five hundred words of post on mobile was literally a pain in fingers. I tried
for a while to write on mobile. But they were just small and brisker ones so
that I don’t forget how to write altogether. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Now that I am back, it may take a while to build up that
speed again. But I am sure that as long as I have you guys’ support and love I
can cross any miles with smiles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And now it’s time to share to good news with you that
is starving to be shared from a very long time. A dream too good to be real has
become my life now. After months of rigorous effort of moving from pillar to
pillar or interview to interview for five months, finally I cracked into
Infosys and also completed its hell-bent training successfully. Now I can
proudly say that I am Infocian. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">
Yuppie!! And also I got posted to Bangalore DC and currently working for a US
bank in Java domain. So double Yuppie!! </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">JJ</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Now your turn. How were you? How happening was your
life when I was away? Did I miss something? Did you guys miss me? Will be waiting for your
comments. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-9368421545381889462014-08-03T18:55:00.001+05:302014-08-03T18:55:09.786+05:30And it rained again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>And it rained again.</i><br />
Just like it had the night when he had dragged her out of the house. Drunk till his senses floated, he had beaten her and her mother and threw them out of the house. The heavy rain and deep night gulped them in, opening the door to daunting uncertainty. She still remembers every minute of those three hours of deluge, the cruel way water sloshed on them poking fire to the fear inside them. The rain had come and gone away, but they stood undeterred. And now today as she entered their new house with her mother, it was raining again. This time it was more of pleasant and welcoming. Each and every drop fell in praise of the bits of courage and hope that little girl held in her tiny hands with her mother.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vK0cXuwjmEZM27A2jFQabeeIe5wwk5j9x-9L4Q9_47IKBt61x4Wrt47_C9ez5W0Cf190oO-Q3Db10vi6eTCSzlUOV6tmdQFhYRXfRpd3NC-i8LdW3auC4vmOOaChXSAQTAEsGmsSJ04/s1600/28119d1322833082-girl-watching-rain-barish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vK0cXuwjmEZM27A2jFQabeeIe5wwk5j9x-9L4Q9_47IKBt61x4Wrt47_C9ez5W0Cf190oO-Q3Db10vi6eTCSzlUOV6tmdQFhYRXfRpd3NC-i8LdW3auC4vmOOaChXSAQTAEsGmsSJ04/s1600/28119d1322833082-girl-watching-rain-barish.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image source- Google image</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend , an</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.</i></span></div>
<br /><br /></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-26736955068879831642014-06-08T22:03:00.000+05:302014-06-08T22:10:26.233+05:30Can you prove yourself?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In my life I have seen many instances where I have heard saying someone "How to prove that it wasn't me". If you are saying anywhere to anyone except than crime investigators then my dear you have landed in a wrong path on a wrong foot.<br />
<br />
Proving yourself! This thing comes when you love someone a lot and want them to believe you. You are afraid that if you can't make that random person believe in you then your life will be sworn to hell. Mostly it happens with someone you are in love(the kind of love with which you want to spend your life).<br />
<br />
But at that times you forget that love and trust are brothers joined at hip. You can't separate them. If that person doesn't trust you now then he or she won't trust ever even if you bake him the best cake with his favourite recipe or you bring to her everything that is on her wishlist, you can't get an ounce of trust after running to this length. You can't prove yourself to others. It's stupidest thing ever, even stupider than running to catch a train that has already left the station. In real there is no emergency brake to pull and stop it.<br />
<br />
<i>And who am I say all these? </i><br />
<i>I am</i> the one who has travelled this road before, willingly or unwillingly I have broken my heart repeating the mistake, tore open myself where I wasn't suppossed to, cried till every part of my body was dehydrated and hydrating it I have cried again. Too stupid! Too stubborn!<br />
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<i>And why am saying all these? Have I started counseling service?</i><br />
Nope..<br />
<br />
<i>Still then why am I preaching? </i><br />
Simply because even after working for twelve hours a day, beautiful quote by Maya Angelou somehow managed to find its to me and I couldn't stop ramble about it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ2pWtp3O18qI6SGT3XXOag5dr_vmKxDZ8uHH09xLWeWyjgxnFEkQuJu-owY7msApBx4zGt3EMe3YLwTFlH2ie0p9cXOS_bRWPtwm5LXcG-5rPA1nf2XJaXTH1jkhyphenhyphen4u8wkaB0bNQads/s1600/Qotd_9.16.12_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ2pWtp3O18qI6SGT3XXOag5dr_vmKxDZ8uHH09xLWeWyjgxnFEkQuJu-owY7msApBx4zGt3EMe3YLwTFlH2ie0p9cXOS_bRWPtwm5LXcG-5rPA1nf2XJaXTH1jkhyphenhyphen4u8wkaB0bNQads/s1600/Qotd_9.16.12_5.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source-Google Image</td></tr>
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<i>What? </i>You knew all these already. Then why are you here till now. Go out. Meet new people and explore. Make friends. Enjoy the eve. </div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-27902245933616060172014-05-24T12:57:00.000+05:302014-05-24T12:57:19.080+05:30Dawn Breaker<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Four of them sat anxiously hovering over the phone. Virat poured out a bottle of wine and handed over one glass to each. Aisha denied considering her dietician has restricted her from high calories intake.<br />
<br />
"Guys. Till when? It's taking toll over my temper." Kriti said rolling the slender glass of wine in her hand.<br />
<br />
"Relax guys. My mom says patience always bears sweet fruits. She has told this one will be break through my career. " Sohail said blowing up rings of smoke up in the air and then inhaling back.<br />
<br />
"What is your mom?? Film critic to comment on it. Weird tarot card reader." Kirti snspped back.<br />
<br />
"Hey! You mind your business. If I start what you mother has done to make you actress then.." Sohail burst all of sudden.<br />
<br />
"Hey..hey..hey..enough. Stop fighting like road side beggars. Sohail calm down. And you, Aisha watch before you speak. We all have given our best for this film. Now only that will happen as it is in our luck." Virat tried to control the situation.<br />
<br />
Suddenly in this tense situation the phone rang heating up it more. Virat picked it up.<br />
<br />
After a small greeting hello some nods followed by. He put the phone after two minutes and turned back with a sour face.<br />
<br />
Everyone got stiffened with troubled assumptions. After all they all had put effort here till the last inch of their life. Aisha had lost a considerable amount of weight that put her lost career into lime light and also brought her this movie. Kirti had learned belly dance especially for this movie from some renowned African dancer. Virat was coming back after a dreading pause due to his sister's accident. And if this movie flops then it will be Sohails fourth flop in row.<br />
<br />
They all waited for Virat to utter something, anything as it was eating then all. Finally he opened his mouth with a smirk. "<i>Magic</i>...guys. It's blockbuster movie. Housefull..." Everyone cheered up as finally and magically their hard work brought color.<br />
<br />
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<br />
This post is for <b>Write Over Weekend </b>for prompt "<b>magic".</b><br />
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-76017340721498597942014-05-21T18:51:00.000+05:302014-05-21T19:05:00.163+05:30Innocence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8u0icnLjqfwgZgDCltU87MBbBSoLVlZ5QxPlxUzlSgYZ9oIpGGWRnMvnQ_098ycfRpl3k014V1Gdc_-mtttkjMjdYM_N4dZQN9EtNpgfibMcvROsEQ_e9K04EQwivKLLOlQwxamleUhw/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8u0icnLjqfwgZgDCltU87MBbBSoLVlZ5QxPlxUzlSgYZ9oIpGGWRnMvnQ_098ycfRpl3k014V1Gdc_-mtttkjMjdYM_N4dZQN9EtNpgfibMcvROsEQ_e9K04EQwivKLLOlQwxamleUhw/s1600/images+(1).jpg" height="237" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source- Google image</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Little did he know that those tiny finger running after butteflies will be crushed. Little did he know those fluttering eyes once filled with innocence will become an abode of terror. Little did he know the laughter that once rang through their house will be muted within stone walls. How he wished he knew his doted daughter would be lost in that foreign land. He wished he knew this before giving her hand to someone the destiny brought their way.<br />
<br />
This post is for Lillie McFerrin Writer's five sentence fiction.</div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-84753072937692407072014-05-13T15:12:00.000+05:302014-05-13T15:12:34.340+05:30The FaLL<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUa7TGzPRp2DFuTV7doXxFYsi9WQm8P1qwYdNMQM9ttrSF6zq64DLUU5YJbFCLcjHESJ3ijwQhmXZeXgGN39au5EApEY_49fvrBsJR4gm18Y6SBfDmhHdGG4KK4YiZARIPqz6QH7lFwY/s1600/image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUa7TGzPRp2DFuTV7doXxFYsi9WQm8P1qwYdNMQM9ttrSF6zq64DLUU5YJbFCLcjHESJ3ijwQhmXZeXgGN39au5EApEY_49fvrBsJR4gm18Y6SBfDmhHdGG4KK4YiZARIPqz6QH7lFwY/s1600/image+1.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The unexpected fall,<br />
That is tangent and pungent,<br />
Through the sharp shrill of air,<br />
On her bare neck,<br />
And the dream cracking cries.<br />
<br />
Among the chaos,<br />
She searches for one voice,<br />
The particular one hushed,<br />
Hot whispers in her ear,<br />
Every morning before sunrise.<br />
<br />
Alas! She finds none,<br />
As the proximity is long gone,<br />
Grasping the distance,<br />
Transcending the space.<br />
<br />
The sharpness of air,<br />
Eases over her skin,<br />
Into downy petal swirl,<br />
Waits down there,<br />
Heavensome bellows of water,<br />
To invite the angel.<br />
<br /></div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-44599066891557322672014-05-11T20:09:00.000+05:302014-05-11T20:09:01.550+05:30A daughter's confession.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>This time I have something to confess..to all and bare the burden I am carrying inside me....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
There were times when you tried to help me and I ignored you telling "you don't know anything Mama."<br />
<br />
There were times when you cried upon my departure, I ruthlessly said "No need to be emotional."<br />
<br />
When you wanted to advise me on my life and career, I rejected saying "Stop your teachership at home. Keep it in your school."<br />
<br />
When you held to your silence to stabilize the situation, that's there I hurt you the most yell<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">ing "you are nothing but a useless piece of stone."</span></div>
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Still you loved me unconditionally, never leaving me in my ups or downs. I may not deserve to be your daughter but you are the best Momma in this universe.<br />
<br />
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PVQv7ZRTDF5zPcZn8A0eqAuRvdv_Bl9sCXALd3l_4ea4LfLpRs9lNLFPVtZMzlsiQqvg_95GKZJLpgUsqEY4OMkxa-y14epNGX5SQje0f3klbjr4E1edyD_-C8BREzJjlM0HXrP8F6w/s1600/Happy-Mothers-Day-Messages1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PVQv7ZRTDF5zPcZn8A0eqAuRvdv_Bl9sCXALd3l_4ea4LfLpRs9lNLFPVtZMzlsiQqvg_95GKZJLpgUsqEY4OMkxa-y14epNGX5SQje0f3klbjr4E1edyD_-C8BREzJjlM0HXrP8F6w/s1600/Happy-Mothers-Day-Messages1.jpg" height="232" width="320" /></a></div>
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Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7274904819745380408.post-5015988947743514362014-05-05T19:11:00.000+05:302014-05-05T19:11:13.715+05:30It will rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image- Google image</td></tr>
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When I give you my hand,<br />
Hold it tight and walk out,<br />
It will rain then,<br />
All the odds despite,<br />
Be it from heaven,<br />
Or my eyes.<br />
<br />
Sun will shine<br />
Through the water<br />
Moon will ripe out shy<br />
Behind the tree of fruits unripe,<br />
Just grab my hold baby,<br />
And walk out.</div>
Namratahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820835864095505007noreply@blogger.com11