<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:07:23.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote-IT</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-793044820031215431</id><published>2010-10-27T03:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T03:24:30.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Consciously Social</title><content type='html'>Man is a social animal. One of the things i remember reading in some text book in school.&lt;br /&gt;Man is a conscious social animal. One thought that keeps crossing my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That thought runs in a frenzy particularly in the following situations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Lift Lobby: (especially office)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working since 5 yrs, and using the lift every single working day.&lt;br /&gt;Process always being:&lt;br /&gt;- Enter lift lobby&lt;br /&gt;- if(lift = not arrived)&lt;br /&gt;   {&lt;br /&gt;       stare at the floor number of lift or Stare the floor or keep moving your body                                     each side&lt;br /&gt;       read the poster in the lobby (even if it is by heart due to the effects of             reading it everyday)&lt;br /&gt;       Feel conscious&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;   }&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might just be ME. But every time I am in the lobby, I always realize nobody is looking at anybody and maybe everybody is a bit conscious of the presence of so many people around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always wonder how it would be if we just walk in and smile . DO a hi hello maybe. And be a Social Animal. It would be quite fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Beauty Parlors:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats one CONSCIOUS place. So many women in one place. All eyeing each other. Its a funny feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Sit in Parlor&lt;br /&gt;- All women sizing each other up&lt;br /&gt;- Analysis of entered women plaguing all brains&lt;br /&gt;- if (feeling = "not better than me")&lt;br /&gt;   {&lt;br /&gt;       concentrate on yourself&lt;br /&gt;   }&lt;br /&gt;  else&lt;br /&gt;   {&lt;br /&gt;       keep eying every now then through corner of eyes      &lt;br /&gt;   }&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a place I am quite conscious myself. Lift lobby is just a piece of cake when compared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a place that can be a complete chaos if all women decide to. Imagine so many of us gossiping /chatting away.&lt;br /&gt;topics would start with&lt;br /&gt;- nice dress/sari/hair/whatever then proceed to you having something similar or seeing something similar in a shop and why you didn't buy it&lt;br /&gt;- beauty regime/fitness regime(you get to flaunt this if you are thin)&lt;br /&gt;- The eternal MOM IN LAW bashing followed by how non understanding your HUSBAND is&lt;br /&gt;- how the lady that just left is such a bitch-&lt;br /&gt;- providing that soothing shoulder or empathizing&lt;br /&gt;- exchanging recipes maybe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we get the point.&lt;br /&gt;Parlors would  be more fun too. I hate going there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Dance floor (before the crowd camouflages you)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be on the dance floor when no one has yet started foot tapping on it is courageous. Coz all the others are lurking and waiting for it to be filled with people so that you are not the one people are staring at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if you love dancing , it takes some mental preparation to be on the floor when there are not more than 4-5 there.  Its easier when you yourself are in a group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the floor is full , that's exactly when we should move out and enjoy the scene. People go crazy dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;- When we are walking towards somebody and they are looking at you. For a while that feeling passes by. Either you or that person looks away somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats about feeling conscious. But considering we are labeled "SOCIAL". It shouldn't have been difficult conjuring up a conversation with strangers whom you see everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering "ANIMAL" following the term. We should have been very animaly about it(i hope you get the point) Kind of go for it types.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we are social animals only because we need people around us. We cant survive alone(never tried..not even going to attempt). And we are not really SOCIAL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-793044820031215431?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/793044820031215431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=793044820031215431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/793044820031215431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/793044820031215431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/10/consciously-social.html' title='Consciously Social'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-4701979214545014559</id><published>2010-10-26T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T06:03:05.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To BE</title><content type='html'>We play quite a few roles in life. All the time.&lt;br /&gt;That's me playing a few parts. I was being what i felt like at time. At times, I curtailed myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Daughter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRAT (not proud to be one today)&lt;br /&gt;Brash&lt;br /&gt;i-care-not&lt;br /&gt;Loving (i really hope my parents would "like" this)&lt;br /&gt;chatter box&lt;br /&gt;bad temper&lt;br /&gt;intelligent (i am certain they would "like" this. i always scored great marks in school. It has left an unchangeable impression)&lt;br /&gt;annoying&lt;br /&gt;organized&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Daughter in Law&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sober&lt;br /&gt;sweet&lt;br /&gt;speaks less&lt;br /&gt;ever smiling&lt;br /&gt;nice girl&lt;br /&gt;anxious&lt;br /&gt;immature&lt;br /&gt;unorganized&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chatter box&lt;br /&gt;idiot (most would "like" this)&lt;br /&gt;fun&lt;br /&gt;shot dimag ko&lt;br /&gt;cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brash&lt;br /&gt;i-care-not&lt;br /&gt;Loving&lt;br /&gt;chatter box&lt;br /&gt;bad temper&lt;br /&gt;sober&lt;br /&gt;sweet&lt;br /&gt;ever smiling&lt;br /&gt;ever irritating&lt;br /&gt;anoying&lt;br /&gt;fun&lt;br /&gt;shot dimag ko&lt;br /&gt;complete nut case&lt;br /&gt;immature&lt;br /&gt;unorganized&lt;br /&gt;organized&lt;br /&gt;time pass&lt;br /&gt;Intelligent&lt;br /&gt;Dumb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only person I am "Being" with. i wont say being Me. coz i am not sure what I am. I change with the moment.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to stop myself at any moment to react or behave the way I want to. I don't have to worry how he will feel, how he will react, how he will be!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Karva Chauth for you Nishit. 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     &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't need      music, lobster or wine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18pt; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;Whenever your eyes look into mine;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18pt; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;The things I long for are simple and few:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A cup of coffee, a sandwich and you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-4701979214545014559?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4701979214545014559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=4701979214545014559' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4701979214545014559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4701979214545014559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-be.html' title='To BE'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3328394258348514588</id><published>2010-08-05T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T22:16:35.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A good morning :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} ol 	{margin-bottom:0cm;} ul 	{margin-bottom:0cm;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-right:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0cm; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sometimes I wake up and feel&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;very happy . It is like I have a spring in my steps. I feel like dancing I feel like taking an effort in everything I am doing that morning.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I say “Good Morning”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A tiny voice seconds that “Oh yeah”. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p face="georgia" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today I again feel the same.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p face="georgia" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;So I thought is there a logical reason as to why the glee or is it that today I have a conscious realization of it? Mmmm… *Ponder Ponder*&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;What did I do when I woke up or what did I do last night&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"  style="text-indent: -18pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-size:7;" &gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;For starters I had dinner very early and didn’t eat before sleeping (People say we get a peaceful sleep if we eat early)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"  style="text-indent: -18pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-size:7;" &gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;I had a head bath and that too early not just before rushing off to work. (no logic for this though)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"  style="text-indent: -18pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-size:7;" &gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;I am not late to work (I honestly feel bad when I reach late)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"  style="text-indent: -18pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-size:7;" &gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;The food I cooked has turned out decent (from a few days it was a tad bit close to disaster)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"  style="text-indent: -18pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-size:7;" &gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;I had a brilliant last week (not that I have been having anything less than that earlier)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18pt; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Or maybe its just a feeling so need not really have an explanation.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;And ofcourse there are days when I wake up super lazy and don’t want to do anything at all. But I am guessing its largely on me to shake that feeling and bring the spring in my step. Instead I love to drown in my laziness for no apparent reason. And it doesnt perk me up but bogs me down.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Some might say that we need to have Those days to appreciate These days. But I am not really convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hmmmmmmmmm.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Random post for the random feeling.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Nothing is interesting if you're not interested.  ~Helen MacInness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3328394258348514588?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3328394258348514588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3328394258348514588' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3328394258348514588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3328394258348514588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/good-morning.html' title='A good morning :)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-4425031051099804375</id><published>2010-07-06T05:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T05:24:22.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CookShetra X X X</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Armed with a cutting board as shield and a knife as sword, I raided the fridge.  Dragged the aalu, tomatoes and threw it in boiling water. I held the onion at the edge of my sword and tried to cut out through its heart. But it kept slipping out. After a tearful fight with it, I managed to tear it to pieces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;After the army of vegetables were taken care of I was face to face with the masala-putras.  I knew I had to burn them with the vegetables.  Gasping and coughing through their force I buried a few of them too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Once I burnt all of them together and was prepared to taste my victory over them my husbandeshwar walks in to tell me I was fighting the wrong battle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;That’s my cookshetra.  An everyday battle.  An everyday journey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;It started an year back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- Understanding how the spices taste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- lal mirchi, dhaniya powder and haldi are not the only masalas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- after a lot of over cooking and undercooking I finally have a hang of time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- fighting through the maze of daals, I finally understand their identity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- I cook things other than aalu, capsicaum and bhindi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- I cried when it turned out yuck(which was quite a few times). Now I have times when I smile a lot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;- It took me hours to get through dal sabzi and roti. Now its like second nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Somewhere during this journey I fell in love. I fell in love with cooking. It was like the cliché, where the guy and girl meet in a journey . Initially they hate the sight of each other and then when they understand the uniqueness and fun . They fall in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;That learning process made me concentrate. Made me appreciate the different flavors.  Made me want to experiment. It gave me the same thrill as dancing. That’s quite a thing to say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Also, being a leo it got to my ego when people said “I can’t cook. “ “It tastes bad”. When others laughed.Even if I had not liked it just to prove it that it ain’t that big a deal, I would have learnt cooking. But fortunately I enjoyed it and am loving it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I love exploring new dishes. Trying out stuff, which my hubby never likes.  But the satisfaction I get after making a new thing is unbeatable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" size="3"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Harriet Van Horne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-4425031051099804375?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4425031051099804375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=4425031051099804375' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4425031051099804375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4425031051099804375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/cookshetra-x-x-x.html' title='CookShetra X X X'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3575324335292228280</id><published>2010-07-06T03:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T03:33:49.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On a Tangent</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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&lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:"Cambria Math"; 	panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:1; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-format:other; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:Calibri; 	panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-unhide:no; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	margin-top:0cm; 	margin-right:0cm; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	margin-left:0cm; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	mso-default-props:yes; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	line-height:115%;} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-right:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0cm; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;3 friends. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;3 friends who know each other since a long time.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;3 friends who know so much about each other that it is frightening. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;3 friends who can talk for hours together about everything under the sun.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;3 Best friends.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;But still, some conversations among us make me take a tangent to it. There has been a time that I simply dozed off. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I don’t listen to the conversation I start pondering.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am amused many times. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Probably the different paths that we have had, has created that frequency difference among us. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The times and life that we have seen has been on different levels altogether.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Some things I might never understand. Some feelings I might never share. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;But &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;we still gel like a bowl of jelly beans. I guess we keep dropping and sticking to each other.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;(And I cant find a single quote to suit this.. )&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3575324335292228280?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3575324335292228280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3575324335292228280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3575324335292228280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3575324335292228280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-tangent.html' title='On a Tangent'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-5427189538750083113</id><published>2010-01-22T01:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T02:03:27.752-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its not complicated :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I have no questions &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;that i want life to answer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;It doesn't bother me why;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;people are a certain way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I judge some people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love some people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am a hypocrite in some situations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I stand by my values in some.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I crib about some things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love some things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I emulate some things about people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;not coz i want to be like someone..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;but I respect that trait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I want that trait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am ME;  at times, different than many&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;at times ; similar to many maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I believe I am unique very unique.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;So is everybody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Life is simple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;We have the power to complicate it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love complicating it at time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love adding drama at times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But inside i know, its simple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its just there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And all life answers are objective;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its either a yes or a no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Saying all this is so simple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't take all situations so positively.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But this is what is there inside me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is how i feel .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I react i dramatize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But I know its superficial.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am learning, I am smiling.&lt;br /&gt;I am living.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: arial; color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't take life too seriously,      you'll never get out of it alive. -- Elbert Hubbard &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;style&gt;/* Font Definitions */  @font-face  {font-family:Wingdings;  panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;  mso-font-charset:2;  mso-generic-font-family:auto;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:0 268435456 0 0 -2147483648 0;} @font-face  {font-family:Verdana; 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 mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0cm;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"&gt;(am i taking it seriously?? )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-5427189538750083113?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5427189538750083113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=5427189538750083113' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/5427189538750083113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/5427189538750083113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-not-complicated.html' title='Its not complicated :)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-8052869432441363143</id><published>2010-01-19T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T22:29:12.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What a bugger!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;10 things that bug me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Sound of creaky chalk on the board&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;       This bug is accompanying me since childhood. Some things never change *Sigh* (drama queen)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- anybody bragging incessantly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;       Could be about own posessions. About own (existing or non existing).  Do i look like I care!!!.. It is a royal pain in the  keeeeeeee. \&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Putting me down (my ego is bad)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;         This could make a place in the list "things that i hate to the core". Never do this to me. Its a direct ticket to "people to get back at". I will.  Or i will sulk incessantly, that's bad too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- "What did you eat today or What did Nishit eat today" .. coming from parents&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;           Not being disrespectful. I understand they care. But i wouldn't be gng hungry everyday and neither would i keep Nishit hungry.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- the love handles (*Snigger*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;      Love should be in the air not on ur waist. The sight or feel of it bugs me to no ends. I should do something about it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Me saying "I should do somthing about it"   and not doing anything  ( 'it' can be anything)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;       Grrrr...  This list should have started with this bugger. Gotta edit it. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- "you never call." / "you never call back.. " / "Dont u see ur fone" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;          Anybody saying this . I know i am at fault. I know i should improve (and i honetly think ia m trying to improve... but this is the max i can do.. Apologies) . But it totally gets to my head. Thats just how I am with the mobile since i started using it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Washing clothes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;        Drab. I have never washed clothes nor do i intend to. When  i have to,  i simply hate it. Even the smallest pice of cloth i dont wash. What were washing machines made for!!! huh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Boring Poeple (as per my perspective)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;       A quote says "Some people have the power of speech but not the power of communication." I so agree. People can go on and on and i so loose track. My solcae at that time : my dreamland. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;- Going to the petrol pump (silly!!!.. i know)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;         It can be a derivative of lazyness.  Since i drive a 2 wheeler i have to have to have to go there. But i hate it hate it hate it. I delay till the last drop. Sometimes if i am lucky enough and the petrol decides to get over during weekends, I make my hubby do that. Brilliant. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;What a bugger!!! I cant find a quote for this post!!! Thats so bugging :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The reason for this random post though is that me and 2 of my friends decided to write a post on a common topic… &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just to see how similarly we are different…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;After around 20 mails exchanged in office debating on the topic for the same, we zeroed down on this non-controversial, non-philosophical one!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just in case u r interested, the links to the other 2 blogs are&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="conceptlife.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;conceptlife.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://nehamordia.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nehamordia.blogspot.com&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-8052869432441363143?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8052869432441363143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=8052869432441363143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/8052869432441363143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/8052869432441363143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-bugger.html' title='What a bugger!!!'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1849411954661668812</id><published>2010-01-15T00:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T00:31:12.841-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Meet the Pillay's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Mr. Vishwanthan Pillay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is one of the most handsome men at 60. Tall, lean. Yeah lean. He is so well built. Younger people would feel a complex. His eating habits , are those that people talk about in books. He follows them since ages.( Secret of his handsome looks)&lt;br /&gt;His dedication in life is amazing. For him retirement did not mean retirement from work. It only meant retirement from one job. He works and he still earns. He stll enjoys. And i cant resist saying again, he is simply handsome.&lt;br /&gt;He is The Liberal Man. Lives and let lives. No disticntion between son and daughter or bahu.&lt;br /&gt;I called him up, "Dad, there is a scheme to study MBA while working"&lt;br /&gt;He didnt ask what it would cost. He didnt question. He simply said "whatever it takes, we will give. You just study"&lt;br /&gt;Love my new dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Mrs. Nita Pillay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She is enthusiasm personified. Nobody at any age can be as enthusiastic as her. Impossible. She lives life to the fullest. She is fun. If she is around with you, you cant have a dull time. On picnics or parties, she is the centre of attraction. She can sing dance , make people have fun with the games she plans. No young people can come close to her enthusiasm.&lt;br /&gt;A perfectionist to the core. Which thing is at which place she can explain on the fone, and you will find it excatly at that place. I am learning from her.&lt;br /&gt;Always active. From the time she wakes up she is upto something. She is good at everything she does. If Nita Pillay has taken up a task. Be rest assured, it will be completed to perfection.&lt;br /&gt;Nita Pillay is the definiton of "SHopaholic". She simply loves shopping. She does not need a reason to shop. And her taste is brilliant, classy and mind blowing. How can i forget to mention, she is the best bargainer to walk on planet earth. If you wanna go shopping, catch hold of her. The chances of getting the best thing at the best price is 100%.&lt;br /&gt;Love my new mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Nisha Pillay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A perfect gemini. A non stop chatter box.She can go and on with all the energy. A complete foody. She can be a walking yellow page for all the good eating out places.&lt;br /&gt;Very individualistic. She will always do what is right to her . No pretentions. If she likes you, she will do anything and everything for you. If she does not, GOD BLESS YOU. :)&lt;br /&gt;Like mother like daughter in quite a few ways. She is the junior shopaholic. She loves and lives life.&lt;br /&gt;She likes gifting. If you are in her good books, be assured that you will get a gift when u meet her.&lt;br /&gt;Absolutley in love with her brother. Even if i try , i would never be able to match up to that love.&lt;br /&gt;Love my new friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds mushy and maybe too much of praise. But no. Its just the plain truth.&lt;br /&gt;For me, i couldnt have asked for a better family to get married into.&lt;br /&gt;Everybody is tightly knit. Selfless love. And they love me back the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses.  ~Joyce Brothers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1849411954661668812?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1849411954661668812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1849411954661668812' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1849411954661668812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1849411954661668812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-new-family.html' title='My New Family'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7133030764769920945</id><published>2009-01-07T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T07:22:43.182-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriages are MADE in heaven. And Shopping FEELS like heaven. </title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;-Day – 20 feb.&lt;/span&gt; The day when I step into 50% merger. It’s the kind of merger, where you cease to own 100% rights to your own organization and have 50% rights, each, over 2 organizations. So effective is 100%. But in the end it is damn confusing as to who owns whom. Period.&lt;br /&gt;I will get into gynagiri of Marriages(merger) later. Now, to a by product of the merger, Shopping!&lt;br /&gt;Here is trailer of my list: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Saris:&lt;/span&gt; 5 from my parents 5 from his. Plus all the other oh-i-have-to-have-this saris. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; What can a girl, who lives denims, and the previously owner of just a single sari, do with so many saris? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; 1 for my wedding, 1 for my reception. 1 for the first day in sasural. I will have to wear a sari for first few days at my sasural. I have to look like a new bride. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; How many first few days are there at sasural? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Ummm.. 2 maybe 3…. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; the remaining 7 sari will look excellent in your wardrobe. (Snort) Me: But I am the new bride.&lt;br /&gt;At the next sari shop: Oh-i-have-to-have-this sari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Footwear:&lt;/span&gt; 1,2,3,4….. What was the last count???? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; WTF, why do you need so many? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; I definitely need a black, and with that sari golden is the right match. And that other dress, blue is so perfect. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; But this sari, when will you wear? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Some or the other time. I can’t go hunting for footwear then. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; What about all the others? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; I might just need a white, and green is such a common color. Brown is a must have. And red is my favorite color. I am planning to buy something that goes with red footwear. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; (About to faint). Wtf!!!&lt;br /&gt;At the next footwear shop: Oh-i-have-to-have-this footwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Punjabi Suits:&lt;/span&gt; 15 plus 2 heavy plus 2 medium heavy( whatever does that mean) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; You hardly wear Punjabi suits. Why did you buy so many? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; You know I am getting married. I should look like a new bride for the first month at least. Plus, if I have to go out and do not feel like wearing a sari, then I should have a heavy dress. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; But u got so many saris. And what is medium heavy? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; You know that is a little better than daily wears and a little sober than the heavy ones. My sub conscience: Where do you plan to use them? Me: Some occasion might come up. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; So you wouldn’t be wearing western anymore , is it? With so many Indian outfits. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Are you crazy? I won’t survive. But I am a new bride; I have to look like one for the first few days… &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; Blah Blah Blah… And what after the first few days of ur bride-hood? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; I can’t change myself forever, can I? And my hubby loves western too. So I can get back to wearing them. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt; God help this girl!!! So all this hassle for “one month”? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My sub conscience:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just a trailer of THE SHOPPING LIST. It runs into pages, which is all needed for the “new bride” look, which remains for 15 days. Out of which 10 days she is on honeymoon, which barely needs clothes. Lol. But guess what, nightwears for every single day (which costs close to 1k). Plus, if and when they go out, she needs new western clothes (new for every single day)&lt;br /&gt;Ya like the saying goes, “She is the new bride. She can’t wear old clothes”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes! It is crazy. The whole marriage drama is crazy. My fiancée shopped for 1 suit, 1 sherwani and 1 new pair for 1 day to visit my home. That’s it. Rest he says, he has loads of clothes and doesn’t need new ones. I do not have place in my wardrobe too. But still I am not able to resist “new bride” look.&lt;br /&gt;This is when I believe the shopaholism (it’s a self-made word) in every women comes out with full boom. It feels holy to go and shop. No one stops you from doing it. Since you are going to be the new bride. In fact parents are the ones to join you in the holy endeavor.&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the other entire wedding extravaganza that wipes out parents bank balance, this one is my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;But believe me when I say, I am the most sober shopping bride. I have shopped hardly anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My sub conscience: Amen!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I like my money right where I can see it: hanging in my closet. -- Carrie from Sex and the City&lt;br /&gt;Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase. -- Erma Bombeck&lt;br /&gt;Shopping is better than sex. If you're not satisfied after shopping you can make an exchange for something you really like.-- Adrienne Gusoff&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7133030764769920945?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7133030764769920945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7133030764769920945' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7133030764769920945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7133030764769920945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2009/01/marriages-are-made-in-heaven-and.html' title='Marriages are MADE in heaven. And Shopping FEELS like heaven. '/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2329870824445498701</id><published>2008-12-30T19:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T19:49:49.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepping into 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today, when I am thinking as to what to wear for the new year bash , I zero down upon the same skirt that I wore last year. And the year reflects by. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I remembered the exact post “Miracle” I wrote and the forecast that Me and My GOD would have a brilliant year. Well, I can definitely take up astrology , considering this case. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I read all my posts. Honestly, right at this moment writing them seem to be a great idea since it is acting as a catalyst in reflecting the bygone year. Today I could go on with the post. But I am being gutsy and honest here and reflecting my year, which I claimed would be a cloud-9 year. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. I read all my posts, and I realized lately I have come up with “CRAP”. My earlier posts seem to be coming straight from the heart, and quite a few recent ones seem like show-off. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I guess the self-obsession, got to my head).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“One day, your life will flash in front of your eyes... Make it worth watching.”&lt;/span&gt; This was my first quote on blogosphere. This year is definitely worth watching. Partly coz of the things I made an effort to do and partly because My GOD was determined to make it worth it. I made new and definitely long lasting friends. My workplace seems like heaven. I have had super fun this year. Did a lot of dancing. Read quite a few books (which includes 3 MnB’s.. Snort) Although I slipped a bit, but stuck to blogging(its fun to write).  Went out for trips. My emotions stuck to the upper level for most part of the year. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe."&lt;/span&gt;  - I used this in “Miracle”. My faith paid off its dividends heavily even in the time of recession. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Its better to rely on faith than on money... lol)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I believed in getting what I wanted. I got all that I deserved. I believed I would find someone who will love me profusely. I met &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NISHIT&lt;/span&gt;. I believed my job is going to be the best so far. I got great work, amazing collegues, superb manager and awesome friends at work. I believed I am going to put on weight at wrong places. The tyre is bloating by the day. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(never think negative… lol).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I believed I would have great hair days. For most part of the year, it was so. I guess, that’s end of bragging. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(TOUCHWOOD).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; In case of SHAHID KAPUR no help with faith, haven’t met him yet.&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(But I fell in love with even better – &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NISHIT&lt;em&gt;.. so I guess that balances itself)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; 3. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“With dreams begin responsibilities”&lt;/span&gt; – This one is the toughest. It takes more than just dedication or motivation, it needs discipline. I am barely 25% ahead than what I was. I dreamt of flattening the tyre. I woke up and ran a few days, rested another more days. Doesn’t work, the tyre is bloating. I dreamt of completing my certifications. Made it through one. Still 2 to go, friends are still trying to motivate me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Thanks Sharad and Roshni)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.  I dreamt of eating timely. Bingo, I kinda achieved this. Tuned my body to get hungry at right times. I dreamt of learning and giving my best to work. Bulls-eye. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“Lost Touch”&lt;/span&gt; – Made quite an effort this year to stay in touch. Simple “hi’s”, forwards, wishing on birthdays’ &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(though I missed quite a few).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; But definitely took steps in this direction. No point, most of them don’t bother to keep in touch. But alas, the GREAT ME, still tries. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Self-obsessed)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; . But my closer friends complain that I am not in touch enough. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(True maybe)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“My Crushathon”&lt;/span&gt; – found 4 TCG’s &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(THE CUTE GUY).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Beat that, 4 in one year. Hurray!!! 3 in office, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(yeah my workplace rocks)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; and 1 cutest – &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NISHIT&lt;/span&gt;. But haven’t done anything foolish for any of the 3. I guess MATURE RAJI. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(rather fattu RAJI and not-nemore-single RAJI)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“My DEVIL”&lt;/span&gt; – She has been in coma for most part of the year. Although, I am yet searching for the vaccination. She did strike hard a couple of times. Disheveled me, but got back on track. Thanks to MY GOD. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“Day Dreams”&lt;/span&gt; – The time I spend on day dreaming has reduced exponentially. I guess 2 things played the part, 1. MATURE RAJI and 2. Quite a few of my dreams got fulfilled and I got busy trying to fulfill the others. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;9. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Mathslexia" - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;It still gets to my nerves. See I jumped striaght from 6 to 8, missed point number 7. Damn this MATHS. lol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am carrying forward the dream of a flat tyre. And the deadline to reach the half of it is feb 20. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am carrying forward the dream of completing my certification. And the deadline is feb 20. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;New year and I have new dreams. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Few in rhythm with the fact that I am stepping into wedlock. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Few related to finances this year. Hopefully I will fair better than the people running the banks in America.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; That’s the gist of it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Cheers to 2008!!! Welcome 2009!!! (lights, camera , action!!!)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man.  ~Benjamin Franklin &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.  ~Oprah Winfrey &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past.  Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.  ~Brooks Atkinson&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2329870824445498701?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2329870824445498701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2329870824445498701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2329870824445498701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2329870824445498701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/12/stepping-into-2009.html' title='Stepping into 2009'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3184838454756669119</id><published>2008-11-26T04:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T04:04:13.315-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Feeling of LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Woke up to the rays of the sun; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bubbling inside with an anxious emotion. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An unknown feeling rising within; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was nervous of what was coming. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I had heard people call it love. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;It made me crazy by the day ;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Sometimes sad and sometimes gay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The world started to look different .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I was looking like my new version. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;These were the signs of love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The wind flew like before; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The sun still shone to the core. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Didn’t feel like violins were played;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt; In the same way the breeze still swayed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Did it really feel like love? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt; But I tossed and turned in my sleep; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;At times all I wanted to do was; weep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The next moment I burst out laughing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Sometimes it was anger; solace I found in yelling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;These symptoms definitely meant love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Havoc; it was with my hormones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Crazy; it was with my mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Different; I was physically. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Confused; I was totally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I had to confirm if it was love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I rushed to my mom; my friend; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Narrated all the incidents; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;She looked at me and beamed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Is it love; I screamed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Was it love? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;She took me in her cover; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The answer I was ready to discover. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What I heard; shocked me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt; Love it was not; she told me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;It was just PMS; PMS and not love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;That my friends was : My first Feeling of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;PMS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s : PMS - Pre Menstruaal Syndrome.. lol &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3184838454756669119?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3184838454756669119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3184838454756669119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3184838454756669119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3184838454756669119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-first-feeling-of-love.html' title='My First Feeling of LOVE'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-6182887345397843825</id><published>2008-11-26T03:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T03:58:23.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance-o-mania</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Get together a bunch of dance-crazy people, a dance guru, weekends and a wedding sangeet. Tadaaaa!!! You can smell chaos in the breeze.&lt;br /&gt;It starts with one of us getting ready to spend their parents’ hard earned money &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I mean ready to get married)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. And we done our dancing shoes, gear up and lo and behold, there we are all ready to set the stage on fire. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ok..maybe ..not that ready… The irreplaceable dance guru, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“The Akash&lt;/span&gt;”, enters and now we are ready. Totally. Period. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One classically trained guru. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A bunch of jumpy kids, who can wriggle in the music in pubs. Basically those people who put their hands in the air and can sway with music. Left Right Left. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(They think they are the best dancers in the world… Self obsessed…)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; And the training commences. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Akash goes , 1 2 3 4. We follow 1 2 3 4.&lt;br /&gt;But wait a minute, from a third persons perspective it seems like he did 1 2 3 4 and we followed 4 3 2 1.&lt;br /&gt;Just for the sake of analogy, he starts to teach “paneer butter masala” and we end up cooking “paneer tikka masala”. There is a definite similarity but hell its not the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“The Akash”&lt;/span&gt; is doing a step, he brings it to life. When we do that same step, we kinda send it to coma. We are definitely good, we try not to kill it. At least “The Akash” appreciates our efforts&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;.( He has no other choice) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The 1 2 3 4’s stretch long into the nights. Along with the counting and the song, the distinct noises are “aah…” , “ooh” , “ouch”.  All the lazy limbs and muscles stretch to their peak during the dance-o-mania times. In all we definitely loose a couple of kilos &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(not individually..but in total) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Then comes the finale. The moment to bring the stage alive. The rock performers in all of us awaken and we put up quite a show. We definitely raise the TRP of the sangeet. The crowd breaks into applause. The cheering results in our self-obsession rising up to the peak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“The Akash”&lt;/span&gt; stands there his heart overwhelemed, clapping away incessantly. Thinking “&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;This was not what I taught them.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Well I did mention, we end up cooking paneer tikka masala.  But the point is the crowd does not know that it was supposed to be paneer butter masala in the first place. Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crux is that we have fun. Those weekends, have live energy in the air. The house comes alive. Dance and music do it. They bring out the best in us. We loose ourselves. There are no other thoughts lingering.&lt;br /&gt;For those hours the mind is free of any worries.&lt;br /&gt;It has to be, you need all the concentration in the universe, to do a step that remotely looks like &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"The Akash’s"&lt;/span&gt; step. Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;There are short-cuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them.  ~Vicki Baum&lt;br /&gt;To dance is to be out of yourself.  Larger, more beautiful, more powerful.  ~Agnes De Mille&lt;br /&gt;We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-6182887345397843825?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6182887345397843825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=6182887345397843825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/6182887345397843825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/6182887345397843825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/11/dance-o-mania.html' title='Dance-o-mania'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7871860897700577012</id><published>2008-11-26T03:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T03:53:29.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meter-o-logy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Just imagine if were born with the following measuring instruments kinda things suck to the forehead or any other body part.&lt;br /&gt;((These are the definition given in Raji’s dictionary) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Feel-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument for measuring, how what you are really feeling for the person you are talking to. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;The units:&lt;/span&gt; Love, like, buzz-off, i-so-wanna-kill-you, neutral, added-to-my-crush-list, lusting-you, respect, impressed. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The meter flashes the words on the forehead. This can be a great energy saver and could very much make the heavens crowded. People would not lie and will not have to pretend about what they feel about each other. This could really spell Disaster too. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Jerk-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument that displays the percentage of jerkiness running within you. The synonym for this is: ass-hole-o-meter. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Pleasure-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument for measuring how satisfied you are after you-know-what ;). Displays only after the act is over. Lol &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Units: Satisfied, want-more, Duh!! , i-will-have-to-do-it-myself, ecstatic. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Can kinda be a revelation! You are feeling like ohh-wow and you look at your partner and the meter flashes “Duh..”   Freaky huh! Maybe it will affect the egos a lot and people might take efforts and not be complacent. It might save a few relations ;) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Look-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt;  An instrument that displays what you feel, when somebody asks “How is this or How do I Look”. It also has a detector that displays what you feel when you are giving a false compliment. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Units: Hot, gorgeous, eeks, horrible,,, (you know the words) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;rustrate-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument that display your level of frustration. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Units: range from 0 to back-off. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Will save a lot of energy, expended during shouting at others.  And others would know what to expect. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Cheat-o-meter:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument that displays when one is cheating on their partner. Units: Simple flashes a red light. It would be quite a scene to see people walking around with a bright red light flashing. Haa!!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Single-o-meter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; An instrument that displays the current status. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Units: Single, Committed &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Will preserve a lot of energy expended by people devising plan to hook up with someone, finally coming to know that they are committed. Will save quite a few heartbreaks. And might put the cheat-o-meter out of use. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If GOD reads, and SHE likes my design, maybe someday kids will be born with similar meters. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I personally recommend Pleasure-o-meter and feel-o-meter) Imagining it in reality, I am not sure how much fun it would be or will it spell disaster. But since it’s a fragment of my imagination, sounds kinda cool. (maybe my imagination sounds dumb...but I am loving it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;There is an inverse relationship between how good something is for you, and how much fun it is.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7871860897700577012?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7871860897700577012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7871860897700577012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7871860897700577012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7871860897700577012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/11/meter-o-logy.html' title='Meter-o-logy'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2105933296472812928</id><published>2008-06-23T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T03:00:43.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tashan</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tashan for me is personified by:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Anshu Mordia:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a bony geeky kid &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(any guesses who??.. Bingo..thats me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), Anshu Mordia was Tashan personified. I studied in one of the most happening schools in my town. People came in their BEST. Among the entire population around me, that female left a mark on my mind and on my tastes. Me and Neha, her younger sis, used to sit around her all the time when she got up to get ready. Anshu Mordia getting ready created the same kind of sparks that a festivity would create in the house. Like a festival involves everybody in the house, her me-getting-ready time was an involvement for everyone. But what an end result! Breath taking to be precise.&lt;br /&gt;Her taste for everything was absolutely perfect, magnificent and eye catching. Her style and taste are deeply etched into my mind. Although I am one of those lazy people who can never take an extra effort for style and I drift more towards tom boyishness, but I know I have taste and that too a good one. Thanks to Anshu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Pashmin Shah:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tashan at its very best. Well another sister, of my best friend Sejal (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I guess I have a thing for elder sisters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). This women’s got class and she has that whacky touch to her. For me she reflects the girl who can be as sporty as she wants and as serene as she desires. A girl with ambition , dreams and energy. She radiates energy. She has innate style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two women I salute, not for the clothes they wear or their tastes. But, for the confidence that is apparent.&lt;br /&gt;I may not know these people as a good friend would do. But they both live life like they have always wanted. Women, who have a mind of their own. A strength they exude which is amiss in most of the women.&lt;br /&gt;They are the powerful women for me.&lt;br /&gt;They are women who know how to LIVE life. Independence being a primary ethos.&lt;br /&gt;Women who can be great daughters, marvelous sisters, maintain all relations without compromising on their desires.&lt;br /&gt;Women, who are fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are the women, who live life &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;QUEEN&lt;/span&gt; Size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the whole post may portray them as old women, naah naah… girls my age.&lt;br /&gt;And total sweethearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a lady is an attitude.  ~Chuck Woolery, Love Connection&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2105933296472812928?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2105933296472812928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2105933296472812928' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2105933296472812928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2105933296472812928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/06/tashan.html' title='Tashan'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1886051540141833484</id><published>2008-05-14T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T05:23:19.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MathsLexia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Once upon a time every child that was born was to be sent to a kingdom called “Studies”.&lt;br /&gt;The truth being that the parents were given an irresistible offer of a healthy life after the visit to Studies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a petite child of 3 yrs, Raji, was sent away everyday to “Studies”. But the kingdom had an underlying rule. Every person who came to Studies had to visit every princely state under its jurisdiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Raji first walked into the state named “English”. She immediately fell in love with the people there. There were only 26 people. They all mingled with each other to form different groups. Those 26 people immediately registered in Raji’s mind, so she never had a problem understanding what each group meant. All the 26 people pampered Raji. They followed only two traditions, “Grammar” and “Vocabulary”. Which she started to understand well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One windy afternoon Raji was summoned to visit a far princely state called “MathsLand”. Excited about getting to know more people and traditions she packed her bag and marched into MathsLand. For the first time she was excited because there she met only ten people. Funny people they were, as they spoke a language other than that from in English. But being a dedicated girl she tried to understand their language. During her first visits she was introduced to only 4 customs, addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. She happily learnt about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the truth was however hard she tried; she could not comprehend their language.&lt;br /&gt;She smelled trouble one fine day. A new clan of 9 people had come to live in Mathsland. The trouble was they looked exactly the same as the original 9 people but had exactly opposite traits. She kept getting confused as to who was who The clan called itself “negative numbers”. They spoke a slightly different language than the positive clan. This was when Raji realized that it was going to spell doom for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inclusion of the new people led to many changes in the 4 traditions to accommodate the traits of negative clan. Raji was left dumbfounded. She began attending carefully all the traditions. But when people of the opposite clan came together in one, she started getting confused. That was the start of Raji’s woes in Mathsland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The “numbers”, as the people fondly called themselves, believed in innovation. Raji found it difficult to keep up with them. They kept introducing her to new clans. She met clan called brackets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The different clans led to casteism. In order to survive she had to keep in mind the order of importance of every caste before performing any tradition. Brackets enjoyed the highest priority. Gradually Raji started loosing interest.&lt;br /&gt;Visitng English land was her get away to happiness. But she had to keep coming back to Mathsland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time she revisited they would have introduced another new custom, which she had to adhere too. She had to follow algebra, arithmetic, and geometry. She believed in Geometry a lot. But all other customs were imposed upon her. Arithmacy was the worse. It had too many rituals that she could not comprehend. Speed, time, distance, work, people, percentage etc.&lt;br /&gt;Sobbing in her bed, she decided to stop visiting MathsLand. But she was struck with horror when she read the fine print in the pact with Studies, she would never be able to leave Studies till she was aware of all the customs in every princely state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For 22 years she was tormented, tortured whenever she visited MathsLand. But she dragged along to serve the pact with Studies.&lt;br /&gt;The impact was so horrendous that the petite girl always remained that way. Petite!&lt;br /&gt;The sun rose and happiness bloomed one beautiful morning when the pact was coming to an end.&lt;br /&gt;She had enjoyed her stay in Studies though. Although Mathsland tortured her but all other states treated her with care and love.&lt;br /&gt;She was tempted by an offer from Studies that by serving Studies for another few years she could live a more happy life.&lt;br /&gt;For a few days she gave in to the temptation. But then the fear of MathsLand was so deeply etched in her mind that she never came to terms with extending the pact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005 was the end of that pact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Raji lived happily everafter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After watching TZP happy realization struck me – I might have (or rather I still possibly) suffer from Mathslexia!!! (yeah! I made up the word)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head. ~Carl Sandburg, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1886051540141833484?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1886051540141833484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1886051540141833484' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1886051540141833484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1886051540141833484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/05/mathslexia.html' title='MathsLexia...'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3781524252711861118</id><published>2008-05-13T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T05:27:45.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As A Kid...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;                                                                                  &lt;br /&gt;-- AS A Kid(AAK) I wondered how actors in songs changed into clothes so fast… I believed they had layers of clothes inside and that when they show flowers or scenery is when they change &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(thank god Raji was not making movies... Imagine the plight of actors…. Layers of clothes!!!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK I liked to drape in mum’s saari &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(now, finding me even in a salwar kurta is difficult).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Then I didn’t know how to fold them properly so I would dump them for washing and be happy that mum never found out about my fetish. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;But hey she knew about it from saari 1. Good Lord!!! She recently scolded me that I was better a “girl” as a kid rather than now. She left me dumbfounded. Mum’s know everything I guess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-AAK I was crazy about ice-cream (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;pretty normal, huh!!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Once we got 2 chocolate family packs (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;yummy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). One was kept for my younger brother and one for me. To avoid any confusion we placed the two packs in such a way that the one on top was mine. Being greedy smarty-pants, I used to eat mine and steal a spoonful from my brothers. Very recently I giggled about this with Vicky (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;my bro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). He laughed his head off. He used to steal from mine, gobble up a lot from his and then exchange it with mine when mine was more. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;What a rip off!!! That 9-yr-younger turned out smarter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK summers were not really on my favorite list (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;even after a decade it has not made way into my list&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I had a deep found liking for academics (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;after a decade this liking promptly walked out on me… ditcher!!!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; So, during study times if the electricity decided to vanish, and the temperatures began to sore, I would walk into the bathroom with my books and a chair. Fill the tub (not a bath tub per say, the wide buckets would be precise) with water and sit inside it. Raise my legs on to the chair and hold the book in my hand. That way I could beat the heat and study coolly. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;As a grown up, if I had held on to half the dedication I probably would have been…. (well…no clue what))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK I kinda walked on the paths of Sweety from Hum Paanch (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;she used to sing before opening doors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). The moment the bell rang I would crawl under the bed in the hall and keep hoping to have guests (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I loved guests then… weird weird&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). When my wish was granted I would creep in and tickle the feet of whoever it was. Whoa!!! They would be scared to their wits ends!!! And jump of the bed. Lol. I would be in splits. My mum joined me in my prank, but only when relatives or close friends visited. It was quite a treat for me. But had to give it up soon as everybody got used to it. As they say, “khushiyan do pal ki mehman hai” (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;drama queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK I had a wild beast taking care of me. Well it was a maid my mum had hired. Creeps!!! I was one scared child then. She used to tie me up and put soap in my eyes. She used to drop me in the water drum, when it had water left till my waist, She never drowned me though, how lucky could I be!!! All this torture if I negated to have food. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;How about making Psycho Part 3???).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I was blackmailed at such a ripe age that if I told mum she would again put me in the drum. Yeah, I know, had I told mum she would have fired her. But I guess my common sense had drowned in the drum (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I never got it back…)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; then one day, her marriage was fixed and she left. How I love marriages since a child!!! Lol. Later, I revealed all the dark things and mum was shocked. Since then, no maids in our house. Hurray!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK I was scared to tears by the sound of the pressure cooker (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;What a Phattu Girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). The instant the realization striked that the cooker was on its way to whistle, I used to run out of the house and wouldn’t come back till it was done. The fear moved on I must confess. But I still ponder why did a whistle spook me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AAK I hated to wear pants or shorts (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;have you anything else in your wardrobe anymore, girl?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Once while visiting my aunt I planned to stay over. As destiny had planned it I was not carrying my cute-girl-dresses. So my aunt dressed me up in my cousins’ shorts and t-shirt. And that day hell broke loose!!! What I pandemonium I created. But my dress was out for washing. I covered up myself in a blanket and wouldn’t come out of it the whole day.!!!  Lord I was such a nut!!! (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;some things I presume...Don’t change…Lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child.  There are seven million.  ~Walt Streightiff&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3781524252711861118?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3781524252711861118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3781524252711861118' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3781524252711861118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3781524252711861118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/05/as-kid.html' title='As A Kid...'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3006205025170358378</id><published>2008-04-12T10:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T10:41:31.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KRA zee zee Y (Crazy)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;***Anything For Love***&lt;br /&gt;This is the ultimate example of my love for Shahid Kapur and the heights of imagination.&lt;br /&gt;*** Ready-steady-imagine *** &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I will enroll into Shaiamak Dawar’s dance classes. Soon. I will be spotted as the “wow” dancer &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(its just imagination..so do not smirk).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; One day Shiamak himself will come to the class and spot me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(wild wild dreams)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Soon I will be among his few lead dancers &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(along with being employed with my current firm and being paid form both ends.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. For, this one particular show, where obviously Shahid dances, we would be the dancers. But as GOD &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(or maybe I)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; would want it, the girl supposed to dance with Shahid will sprain her leg &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(Poor poor her)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Then Shiamak would come running to me to take her place, which I would graciously accept as a sincere student and not out of craze for Shahid Kapur &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;( whom are you kidding girl)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. The moment we start dancing together Shahid would look into my eyes and fall in love with me as if we were meant to be together, forever. But with the hustle bustle backstage we leave. Unable to stop thinking about me, he checks out my whereabouts with Shiamak&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(ofcourse).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** To reach the last scene I have imagined a few ways. The last though remains the same. So, the last scene at the end***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Me with a few friends would start our own restaurant business. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(at least sounds more reasonable than being the lead in Shaimak’s group). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;And as destiny would have it, the restaurant would be a hit and visited by the crème-de-la-crème. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(shahid obviously falling into that category)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Once when he visits Pune, he would decide to come to dine at our restaurant &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(I am already getting goose bumps.. Shy).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; As a responsible person &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(responsible and you?.. hahhahah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I would obviously go to check out if our guest is having a good time and during our formal but pleasant conversation Shahid would be blown over by me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(yeah who else… Creep).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Unable to stop thinking about me, he would call the restaurant the next day and get my whereabouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. For some weird reason &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(tell me something I don’t know… you are weird girl)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, I would move to Bombay &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(that’s weird coz I am, again, for some weird reason not interested in going to Bombay).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Again, for some weird reason my organization would have free memberships for its employees in the Gym, where obviously Shahid works out &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(now I get the point of all the weird reasons)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Hip Hip Hurray! And again for some weird reason we would be at the Gym at the same time. For another weird reason one fine day all the trainers decide to bunk &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(yeah ..that’s weird too)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. And me, this innocent novice at workouts, would be wondering what to do, when for some weird reason, Shahid would approach me and help me with working out. Then he obviously would be blown over by me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(that’s for obvious reasons… not weird)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Then again for some weird reason I move back to Pune the next day. Unable to stop thinking about me, he would check out my whereabouts from the Gym, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(which now obviously has my details)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(The least my imagination has run is with this)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. For our organization’s annual day function, the guest of honor would be Shahid Kapur. As the stars&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(of the sky)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; would have planned it, I would be nominated for an award, which I would obviously win and would receive from Shahid &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(eyes rolling)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Then we would have a party with all the winners and Shahid &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(my dil goes mmm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. And after having a nice chat, he would &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(the best part)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; be blown over by me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(blown over by me? it sounds so easy. hahah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. . Unable to stop thinking about me, he would call up the organizers the next day and check out my whereabouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(This one would sound like I have gone bonkers)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Shahid has recurring dreams about his last life, where he and his sweetheart were not able to have a life together.&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(Ye Zaalim duniya ki reet). (that dreams the reason why Kareena and he broke off finally.. yeah.. now we get the reason)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. In his dreams, the first time he saw his sweetheart would be in a temple &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(cliché at its best)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. The girl clad in a blue salwar kurta with the dupatta on her head, heading down from the stairs. He is standing at the foot of the temple. She is walking down the stairs. At God.s will the wind blows and take her dupatta with it. The dupatta lands on him. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(Creep. Raji cant get any worse)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. He turns to look and his eyes rest on her. Its love at first sight. That was the past life. In this life, the girl’s in a blue denim and tshirt, with a scraf on her head &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(yeah that’s me)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. The GOD’s will is again at work taking the white scarf with it. Then history repeats and its love at first sight. Plus it is an answer to his dreams. The girl of his dreams (just a little modernized). As I walk past, my office ID card falls off &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(nothing unusual there... I am that clumsy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. . Unable to stop thinking about me, he would call up my firm and check out my whereabouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew!!! That’s quite a few ways to reach Shahid. I sincerely pray to the Lord that the “Law of Attraction” works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Last Scene: (Assumption: he knows all about me now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;From then on, everyday that I reach office there is a big bouquet waiting for me, from anonymous &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(adding the mystery angle to hypothetical scenes... lol)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. This goes on for a week. Then one Monday morning as I walk towards my work place, I see a lot of people gathered. A crowd, basically. The moment I walk towards the crowd, they make way for me. The whole reception is decorated with flowers. My photos running through all the LCD’s in the reception. As I stand there amazed, Shahid walks towards me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(he is wearing the outfit he wore in Mauja Hi Mauja… mush-mush)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. I am spell bound (obviouslyyyyyyyyy). He walks up to me, bends down and proposes me &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(even writing this makes me wanna jump up and down……..aaaaaaaaaaa shout)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. I nod in affirmative. He picks me up and we run away to living happily ever after. &lt;em&gt;(let the lord bless my dreams)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(well I might as well have added this in the “Day Dreams” post. Giggle)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First you build your castles in the air, then you build the foundations under them.” - Henry David Thoreau&lt;br /&gt;(my castle is ready… there is no raw material available to build a foundation beneath this crazy castle.. lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3006205025170358378?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3006205025170358378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3006205025170358378' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3006205025170358378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3006205025170358378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/04/kra-zee-zee-y-crazy.html' title='KRA zee zee Y (Crazy)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7826635499847591090</id><published>2008-03-25T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T20:41:33.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I step out and pull on the robe of anything I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;Painting a picture of all that my heart fantasizes.&lt;br /&gt;I crown myself the beautiful princess in the white robe,&lt;br /&gt;Whom the knight pulls on his horse galloping away to the faraway land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put on my dancing shoes with the cute pink dress.&lt;br /&gt;Like a graceful ballerina I dance to my hearts content.&lt;br /&gt;The stage is exuberant with every move I make.&lt;br /&gt;My body swaying to the music like I own the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That VJ takes me to the land of MTV or channel V,&lt;br /&gt;Where I am the coolest hippest girl, yapping all the way.&lt;br /&gt;The Miss. India fits me into her flowing gown, where&lt;br /&gt;I am ready with prompt repartee, people applauding for me.&lt;br /&gt;The stunning actress pulls me into the most dramatic scene,&lt;br /&gt;I play the part with panache and drama right away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paint my own pictures, I sing my own songs&lt;br /&gt;I come back to my world where I am my parent’s princess;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for my knight in shining armor.&lt;br /&gt;I dance my heart out to all the music that plays.&lt;br /&gt;I yapp away with my friends who believe I am cool.&lt;br /&gt;I try to rack my brains for the wittiest response;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes its bulls eye sometimes I am such a fool.&lt;br /&gt;The actress in me keeps dramatizing the way I speak,&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes with hands and sometimes it’s the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day dreams, painting 1000 colors with one stroke.&lt;br /&gt;Day dreams, singing the same song with a different tune.&lt;br /&gt;Day dreams, dancing to the same number with different moves.&lt;br /&gt;Day dreams, a playground for the imagination to run wild.&lt;br /&gt;Day dreams, a solace in boring lectures and meetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;All religions will pass, but this will remain: simply sitting in a chair and looking in the distance. ~V.V. Rozanov&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7826635499847591090?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7826635499847591090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7826635499847591090' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7826635499847591090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7826635499847591090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-dreams.html' title='Day Dreams'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1491015335776887452</id><published>2008-03-20T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T23:11:21.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheers to LOVE ....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Living in a long distance is not easy for them either. She remains more concerned with the fact that he has to live alone. He, always the shy person. She, a non-stop chatterbox. Both, totally in love with each other. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The distance never got between them. Every now and then he picks up the phone and dials his sweetheart. She follows the ritual too. By the end of the day calling each other at least 10-15 times a day. Phew!!! I guess they are a weird couple. Not the long lasting conversations but the small tit bits. But that is the substitute for not being able to see each other every single day. Let me clear a fact here. Even when they were not distanced they called each other at least 5 times a day. Of all the humongous number of calls that they made, by the time they dozed off at least one&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“I Love You”&lt;/span&gt; has to be exchanged. No exception there. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He suffers form motion sickness to a very large extent. But even when he has a single holiday he rushes where his heart is. Traveling 3 hrs by bus to just watch that gorgeous face. That face which makes his heart still skip a beat. For you and me 3 hrs wouldn’t be a big deal. But when he reaches the doorstep all he does is fall down into the bed and relax. All this for being able to be with her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a Sunday morning; she as usual wakes up to her morning ablutions and is now in the kitchen preparing a healthy breakfast for her love, who she for some weird reason believes always comes from a place where there is draught. Coz the whole day, if she is not smothering him with love then she is filling him with food. Aaah!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sleepy eyed man wakes up and rushes off to the kitchen, tip toes in there grabs her from behind and pecks her. And what a triumphant look he has in his eyes. Depending on her moods she plays her reaction. On a joyfully naughty mood she will push him aside and will act pricey. With the spoon or knife whichever she holds in her hands she will growl at him and ask him to keep his hands to himself. He being accustomed to this will just pull her towards him once more. She wanting exactly the same. And both burst into a fit of laughter&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.(What’s so funny I don’t understand.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The whole day she will fuss about him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening they just sit besides each other with the cup of tea and watching nothing and everything on TV. Even when that’s all they are doing you could sometimes catch him playing with her hair. Or just curling his finger through her finger. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(A plain act which synonyms to their feelings for each other.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;On their anniversary, they still surprise each other. A gift both will never forget. They totally love what the other person gets for them. Although very aware that they get it every time for each other, even then their faces light up when they see the gifts. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(Children I tell you!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He still takes her out for dinners &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(read date).&lt;/span&gt; But from the time he moved to a new place she will feed him only home made goodies &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(I told you she believes he lives in a draught place) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The totally amazing part being they don’t fight. They just don’t fight. The routine complaints of girls “He doesn’t call. He doesn’t message. He doesn’t pay attention”. No Chance. Well he doesn’t give her that opportunity. He loves adoring her. She loves taking care of him. They totally understand each other’s moods. They know when to leave alone or when to give a hug. They respect each other’s individuality and space. And they totally love each other too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have been living in a long distance for the past 5 years now. But still going strong. They love each other for the past 26 years. Yes that’s the time they have spent. The romance still steady like a couple just fallen in love.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers to Mom n Dad!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have debates with friends who think that love is crap. Marriage a pain or whatever words they can use it to abuse it.&lt;br /&gt;But I still believe. How couldn’t I? The 2 people who have influenced me the most are so much in love, so romantic. And they never ever fight &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(that’s something I still don’t get).&lt;/span&gt; There is no way I am going to believe those people who haven’t been in love, let alone marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you mom n dad.&lt;br /&gt;Kuddos to Love…&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist, Nor can it be hidden where it truly does.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1491015335776887452?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1491015335776887452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1491015335776887452' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1491015335776887452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1491015335776887452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/03/cheers-to-love.html' title='Cheers to LOVE ....'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2698307505936601685</id><published>2008-02-19T21:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T21:47:58.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom Me and Milk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Piyu doodh for healthy reason ; Peeyo doodh in every season&lt;br /&gt;Rahego fir fit n fine ; jeeyoge past ninety nine.. doodh doodh..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An awesome number to promote milk. And why not maybe milk is really good for health. I am betting on calcium (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;My guess&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in the story of the 3 M’s (Mom me and milk) the song would go this way:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Don’t peeyo doodh to give mamma tension; don’t peeyo doodh till she gives u all the reasons&lt;br /&gt;Mamma ko peeche bhagaao to keep her fit n fine; peeyo only to make mamma smile.. doodh doodh doodh doodh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;ok that’s not a masterpiece at lyrics… so what&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my place the story of 3M’s was read out every night (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;mornings used to be hectic...Mom didn’t have the time&lt;/span&gt;). It was simple. A glass of milk (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;made sure that there aint any of the “Malai” thing floating&lt;/span&gt; ) in mum’s hand and me refusing to drink it for “n” number of reasons. I eventually did gulp it down my throat. But not once did I drink it without giving my mum reasons to ask GOD “what did I ever do to have a child like this?” But every night she still came back with that Milk and I acted like the most spoilt child (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;that didn’t need much acting though&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She used to cajole me into drinking it, shout at me, and just stand right in front without saying a word. I used to be so amazed at her patience and perseverance and once I also said “Mom, if I was the mother of such a child I would have turned the glass of milk onto her head.” She stood there furious, and if a look could kill I would be dead then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still do it every time I go home. And she still keeps talking me into drinking Milk. My friends say I am a sadist (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;they too exaggerate&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;The truth is that small war we had was fun (&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;maybe I do sound like a sadist&lt;/span&gt;). It was a ritual at home. Today when I do the drama she smiles and stands in front of me, knowing what I am up to. But in the past she definitely lost her cool, but never backed off.&lt;br /&gt;I guess that’s being a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, however cliché it might sound, but Mother’s are a masterpiece designed by GOD. I am curious how that new life turns a girl into a person, a perfect person. She has gotto know so much. I believe raising a kid is the job, which requires the most dedication, and one cannot take a break or a vacation from Momhood. Mom’s just do it so well. Every single need she fulfills. Even when we complain, we fight with her, coz we believe she doesn’t understand us. Well we do grow up, we build our own views. And differences do happen. But even today, for me, the most comfort I get is in her lap. I can’t imagine a world without her.&lt;br /&gt;But even today we read the story of Mom, me n Milk whenever I go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;What I feel for you&lt;br /&gt;How you make me feel&lt;br /&gt;All the bruises that you mend&lt;br /&gt;The way all my emotions you can tell&lt;br /&gt;When you sat by my side all night long&lt;br /&gt;All the little stories that you tell&lt;br /&gt;The patience with which you hear everything I have to say&lt;br /&gt;All the poems you sat and made me learn&lt;br /&gt;Every thing you scold me for&lt;br /&gt;Every thing you appreciate me for&lt;br /&gt;The talks you have with me&lt;br /&gt;All my stupidities that you laugh at&lt;br /&gt;For every time you giggle with me&lt;br /&gt;All the war of words that you stand;&lt;br /&gt;Still not once you judge me,&lt;br /&gt;Realizing that I never mean all that I say.&lt;br /&gt;All the things you stop me from doing&lt;br /&gt;The faith you show in me&lt;br /&gt;The trust you ask me to deserve&lt;br /&gt;All the care in the world that you shower&lt;br /&gt;A kind of love only you can offer&lt;br /&gt;I thank you Maa for making me your world&lt;br /&gt;All the things you do, every word you say&lt;br /&gt;Even if I act ignorant, it means a lot to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My mom is a neverending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being.  I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune.  ~Graycie Harmon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2698307505936601685?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2698307505936601685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2698307505936601685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2698307505936601685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2698307505936601685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/02/mom-me-and-milk.html' title='Mom Me and Milk'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7685187658347922264</id><published>2008-02-18T02:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T02:30:07.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...RaJi...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So today I am gonna write (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;read Boast&lt;/span&gt;) about myself. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hail Raji&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Naah!!! I am too modest to do that (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yaaa right (Snort)… Wake up Sleepy Head&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Just wanted some post to be titled with my name. This was the best opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;Well, coming back to the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;What’s in a Name???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole drama is going to revolve around my name or basically this is a dedication to all those people who have a “Different” (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;hatke&lt;/span&gt;) name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God definitely didn’t bless me with a face that’s a head turner (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;now I am doing down right self abashing…Phew&lt;/span&gt;) but to make it up my Parents blessed me with an eyebrow raiser name. And the name is &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Raji… Raji Rajan&lt;/span&gt;.(&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Does James Bond rhyme???&lt;/span&gt; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half of the population wonders what my name means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;According to my parents&lt;/span&gt;: The one who rules (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I loooove the meaning&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;According to a website: Originally a short form of any of the various names containing the element raja (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;king, sovereign&lt;/span&gt;), Raji is also bestowed as an independent given name. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Also, it says it’s a girl’s name… Bless You&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;According to another website: Name of KING (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;It’s a male name… Dhishum Dhishum&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a terse phrase it means ROYAL. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oooo Lala…&lt;/span&gt; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time any body asks me my name and I say Raji the following cases occur:&lt;br /&gt;Case 1: huh?&lt;br /&gt;Case 2: Raised eyebrow&lt;br /&gt;Case 3: Nice Name (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;a polite way to say that’s different&lt;/span&gt;) accompanied by what does it mean.&lt;br /&gt;Case 4: Come again (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;believing that they misunderstood what I said&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Case 5: Is this your NAME or is it a shorter version of something like RAAJESHWARI.&lt;br /&gt;Case 6: Assume they hear Prachi or Rachi or something that rhymes or some word which fits into their vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;Non-existent Case: Normal reactions or basically no reactions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every time someone is writing down my name I have to spell it coz most of the time they fall in Case 6 and would pen down something totally not-my-name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make myself clear, I am not cribbing. I love my name. And every different name does trigger a pulse in every person. Coz when one says a name, which fits into people’s vocab it just registers. For an unusual name to register it first triggers a response then it registers. Hurray. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Modest Raji at work&lt;/span&gt;) (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Psst Psst … A secret... It isn’t that unusual down south&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name has the following comments attached to it:&lt;br /&gt;1. “Raji” aint a word. It’s just a sound. A weird sound. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Murder Murder Murder&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;2. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Beat this&lt;/span&gt;) Raji cannot be a name. During your naming ceremony the moment your grand mom was about to say your name she sneezed, Aaachhiii, and your parents mistook it for Raaaji. And hence you are called so. It can’t be a word. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Murder? Naah!!! Too smart&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;3. Raji. It feels like I only say half the name. Incomplete type of a word. It feels as though I am saying your name and half way through I lost my voice. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Where the hell do they come with this from…&lt;/span&gt; )&lt;br /&gt;4. Raji resulted in a lot of people calling me Bhaaji.&lt;br /&gt;5. Many a times my call letters, or documents have had my gender being mentioned as Male if people haven’t seen me. The client I interact with though I am a male till I corrected her. Rather till she heard my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Shakespeare asked what’s in a name. There is sooooo much in a name!!! But, only if you have been privileged with a different name. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ha!&lt;/span&gt; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's in a name? That which we call a roseBy any other name would smell as sweet.~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(couldn’t find a better quote than this)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7685187658347922264?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7685187658347922264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7685187658347922264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7685187658347922264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7685187658347922264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/02/raji.html' title='...RaJi...'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-8921563108770564629</id><published>2008-02-15T04:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T04:21:39.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Touch</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;They made me smile a lot&lt;br /&gt;On silly jokes we giggled together&lt;br /&gt;Fun and frolic was always our company.&lt;br /&gt;Today they are my distant memories.&lt;br /&gt;I lost touch. I never tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School days that we all cherish&lt;br /&gt;Was special coz we all were together&lt;br /&gt;The lunch boxes the games, in heart forever.&lt;br /&gt;Today they are my distant memories&lt;br /&gt;I lost touch. I never tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shared our first brush with love&lt;br /&gt;The first heart breaks, the next crush&lt;br /&gt;Advising each other, when half of the things were unclear&lt;br /&gt;Today they are my distant memories&lt;br /&gt;I lost touch. I never tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The growing up is worth cherishing&lt;br /&gt;Coz they gave different colors to my life.&lt;br /&gt;What more could I ask from my college days.&lt;br /&gt;Today they are my distant memories.&lt;br /&gt;I lost touch. I never tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always welcome friends into our life&lt;br /&gt;With a smile and a song in the heart&lt;br /&gt;With promises of friendship forever&lt;br /&gt;Some old friends we stick to,&lt;br /&gt;With new friends making way, we walk away&lt;br /&gt;Never looking back, never trying,&lt;br /&gt;With a bunch of excuses, some become a part of our memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a small hi, a simple good night&lt;br /&gt;Is all that was ever needed.&lt;br /&gt;A birthday wish, a how are you&lt;br /&gt;A call that means hey I remember you.&lt;br /&gt;An sms indicating I still think about you.&lt;br /&gt;How simpler could being friends forever be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today they are my distant memories.&lt;br /&gt;I lost touch. I never tried.&lt;br /&gt;I cherish those memories that have made my life colorful.&lt;br /&gt;I will get in touch. I will try to mend.&lt;br /&gt;A few simple things I would do.&lt;br /&gt;Coz friends forever I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.  ~Edward de Bono&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-8921563108770564629?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8921563108770564629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=8921563108770564629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/8921563108770564629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/8921563108770564629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/02/lost-touch.html' title='Lost Touch'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2151046982780827213</id><published>2008-01-19T02:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T03:05:45.769-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crush-a-thon ;)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Teen Crush-a-thon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;I assume that every(&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;normal&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;)body has a crushistory. For me every next crush was history repeating itself. He is sooooo cute… that was it. Then drool drool and fir jaao bhool(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;that sounds cool… lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Crushing is exuberant fun and super crazy. I had levels of crushing: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Level 1&lt;/span&gt;: The moment THE CUTE GUY(&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TCG&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) is visible, eyes pop out and face lights up with the 440w smile. The moment out of sight, it’s out of mind. And I don’t know him personally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Level 2:&lt;/span&gt; Finding THE CUTE GUY(&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TCG&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) irresistible and devising ways to get to know him, and succeeding in the endeavor. Then every time you bump into each other and he talks, the dil goes mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmm…. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Level 3:&lt;/span&gt; Now this is serious business. THE CUTE GUY(&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;) is a friend. Hanging around with him half of the time. To top it, every time he talks, the dil goes dhoom dham dhishum… (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;mm mmm seems sooo insignificant then&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Well I guess the next level stops being a part of the Crush business it’s taken over by the LOVE department. I am saving it for some later post. Lol. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Some teeny-weeny things, that, I did during my teeny Crushlife. My parents knew every entry in my Crush-List (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;supportive parents I must say&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- In my college there was &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, a senior. He was handsome, definitely. Once in lunch break I was raving about him to my friends. And for some silly/weird reason I was walking backwards babbling about TCG. Suddenly a few of my friends started giggling and a few had their eyebrows raised. Before I knew what it was, Dhadaaam!!! I bumped into TCG. Whoa!!!! Sorry’s were exchanged (what a gentleman he was… even he said sorry and asked me if I was hurt (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;blush blush all the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)). My friends couldn’t hold their laughter (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;jerks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I couldn’t contain my thrill(Duh). Later, I narrated the whole incident to anyone and everyone who would bother to listen. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;May God Bless Me with a few more collisions with TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;…) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- I was lurking around with Neha(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;me and neha studied in different colleges&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) on college road (a place) where I happened to spot TCG (another senior). I wouldn’t stop staring (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;read ogling&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). He and his friend happened to notice (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;tumne notice kiya!!! kaafi tej ho.. hahahha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). So, now TCG turned his bike and was approaching towards us (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my heart beats racing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) when he spotted Neha and realized that Neha happened to be his friends sister(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Neha’s sis was in my college&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). He sped away with his bike! &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Damn!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Me and Neha were in splits laughing. Plus, we didn’t forget to mention this small incident to her sis. Her sis rewarded me with some snaps of TCG. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bless Her!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- My parents were fed up of listening to moments with &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;a friend in school n college&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). We used to hang out with the same set of friends. He was playing with a silly stick (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;the stick of a broom!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Started poking me with it. When I caught it, he snatched it away saying “&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;This is my lucky stick&lt;/span&gt;”. A while later he forgot about his lucky charm, which I promptly slid in my bag. I flaunted that prized possession at home and kept it in my cupboard. One fine day I come to my cupboard to see that Mom has cleaned up all the mess. I went bonkers when I couldn’t locate that Lucky-Charm stick. To soothe me, my dad came up and started searching for it. Finally he found it for me and handed it saying “&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Here. Now keep it safe&lt;/span&gt;” (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;that’s what I call a cool dad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). I kept that stick safe for a pretty long time. (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That’s how crushy-feely I could get&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- I had the habit of sleeping in the evening and studying at night. My mom made sure nothing disturbs me. One fine evening TCG decides to call me, about whom my mom obviously knows. She actually came to wake me up. When I refused to open my eyes, she said “Look its &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; calling, I don’t want you to have a fit when you wake up and realize that you missed the call” (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;aint my mom cool too&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). What an instant awakening it was. Ran to pick up the phone. And what a conversation it was. He had called for no reason (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;that was the best part&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). After he hung up I just sat there dreamily. My bro and mum amazed at how silly one could be. Then I promptly got up and penned down the entire conversation onto paper in dialog form (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;patience huh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I don’t remember the count as to how many times I read that thing (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That was the impact a call had on me… Duh Me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- Now this was really lame of me to do. But I used to give missed calls to TCG. This was way back in junior college. And then I didn’t know the concept of caller id’s (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Damn&lt;/span&gt;). Now we end up together in senior college and for some weird reason in the same class (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;which then I though was some sign by GOD… whoa!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; ) . He was sitting right behind me in class. The guy sitting beside him decides to bring up the topic of missed calls (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I still hate him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), and then TCG laughs(devil in disguise) and says “Hey Raji, you used to give me missed calls. Hahahah”. (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Help Help Help!!!&lt;/span&gt; ). I soooooooooo wanted to disappear(&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;GOD didn’t listen to me then&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). The look on my face, according to my friend was priceless. It goes down in my list of “&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Most Embarrasing Moments&lt;/span&gt;”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;- 6 of us friends crushed on the same guy. In junior college the attendance sheet used to be passed. We always made it a point to paint a heart in front of his name. And used to giggle all the time looking at his expression. Hardly did we know that all the guys in the class knew our little secret. Once in senior college I made a friend who happened to know about this. That was when it dawned that it was not we who were laughing at him, but all the guys who were laughing at us. (&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I guess I have made a fool of me umpteen number of times)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;There were loads of other things: hating that girl, with whom TCG spoke often, yapping about the latest TCG to my friends, turning red when &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;TCG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; complimented (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;this happened to be a rare phenomena&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;), dealing with a spoilt mood because of some silly reason related to TCG, remembering all the clothes he wore, going nuts when we wore the same shade of clothes (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;silly silly me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)... and a lot more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;It was an amazing thing an amazing feeling. It was super fun too.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;The Crushy feeling could be described as:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#66cccc;"&gt;“I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi to me, or even smile, because I know even if just for a second, I crossed your mind.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;When he's around, my whole body knows it. I'll keep talking and stuff, but my mind will have no idea what I'm saying, I keep wondering if there's a term for this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cheers to Crushing!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2151046982780827213?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2151046982780827213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2151046982780827213' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2151046982780827213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2151046982780827213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/01/crush-thon.html' title='Crush-a-thon ;)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7021844257814544013</id><published>2008-01-15T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T04:58:47.599-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Neha Mordia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;For Neha,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Growing up and memories is like diya n baati ( &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;cliché.. but nothing hits better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Everybody has a plethora of growing up memories. Stupidities, crushes, bunking lectures, my-parents-don’t-understand-me tantrums, the realization of the existence of the opposite sex (interesting) , aims which say i-wanna-be-rich-and-famous, bruises, heart breaks, college ,school, play park , bla bla bla , Neha Mordia (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;my growing up and Neha Mordia are like diya n baati&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), etc etc etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Calling her my best friend would be an understatement of my lifetime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Always a talkative kid I was, but only with my close ones. She came and she brought out the crazy side of me. As a 12 year old she was a smart and intelligent kid. I was the shy and intelligent kid. Those who know me now might wonder SHY n RAJI… its like saying software and no-bugs together (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;the software engg in me..damn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I am not taking away any credit from my parents and me and all the other people. But Neha has her part (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;major part&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) to play in the person that I am today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Always an extrovert with no inhibitions. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Full of life, ya! that’s Neha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. All this dance business that I keep mentioning in every other post of mine, this girl was a dancer right as a child, I had my inhibitions, being with her let me go of all my inhibitions. And that’s why I know today that I love to dance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;I am still way disorganized but if I have even remotely come close to that word its &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;thanks to Neha Mordia&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Well let me introduce &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Neha Mordia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Sunshine&lt;/span&gt;. That’s one word that comes to my mind when I think of her. One helluva gorgeous female. A true aquarian, she has a charm of her own. And what a blabbermouth we have in her. She can just yapp together for hours at a stretch. She does not only have the power of speech but the power of conversation (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ders a difference if u noe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). She comes across as this Miss. Attitude and what-does-she-think-of-herself, I know her since 11 years, she is the most fun and down to earth (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;well not exactly… lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ) girl. Well, if she doesn’t like you then she wouldn’t pretend either. But be ready to be smothered with affection if she has even an insy winsy thing for you. Temper is not her cup of tea, once in a while she might loose it, but most of the times she will not let is out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;A very responsible girl. If she has agreed to do some thing for you then rest assured that it will be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Sometimes she is a total tomboy. Sometimes she will want to look like a goddess, well without much effort she manages easily to look like one. At times she will be this philosopher and guide, at times a total brat. Sometimes we have wanted to kill each other at times its Friendship shining all the way. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Psst Psst .. a friend calls her My First Biwi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Now you might think she is this goody-goody female, hold your breath, she can compete for the &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Miss. Mean&lt;/span&gt; contest if she wants and win it hands down. Lol &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Well she has her strings of flaws. But that’s what makes her more special to me. And all my strings of flaws she has always embraced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;These quotes describe her best:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;No matter what the weather, wherever you go, you always bring your own sunshine”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Some people grin and bear it; others smile and do it.” &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Loves absolutely everything that ever happens in her life" (Modified version of :Love absolutely everything that ever happens in your life Paul Cantalupo, MD) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Some memories with her:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;1. Right after school , after spending the whole day together, chatting on phone for hours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;2. Discussing how some girls act stupid in front of guys (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;we were equally bad I guess.. hahah.. school times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;3. Comparing how each other faired in exams (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;healthy competition is it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;4. Alternately staying at each others place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;5. Covering up each others blunders at home (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I did that most for her ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;6. Wanting to throw an egg from her top floor house on to the main road (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;and actually doing it… crazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;7. Listening to Bye Bye Bye (N Sync) umpteen number of times to get the lyrics right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;8. Ye chand to seedha seedha gol hai (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;cant explain this..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;9. Soothing heart breaks (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;we have a tendency to fall for THE WORNG GUYS... she just got the RIGHT one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;10. SECRETS (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;we know too much about each other..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;11. Fights (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;silly sillier silliest (if these words exist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;12. Genuine comments (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;no faking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;13. Egg roll, Aalu paratha, mango milk shake, dosa, fish. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I guess these are memories with each others mums… hahah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;(I am ending up having lists in most of my posts. But kya kare, life hai hi mast. ) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart … and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;(That’s Neha Mordia for me.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;With Love,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...RaJi...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7021844257814544013?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7021844257814544013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7021844257814544013' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7021844257814544013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7021844257814544013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/01/neha-mordia.html' title='Neha Mordia'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1373392933963695306</id><published>2008-01-09T23:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T23:33:46.427-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Package Deal :) :) :) :) :) :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Dedicated to my wonderful Roomies : Aditi , Khushi, Prachi, Pinky, Renu, Sonica)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Anybody who has bonded with their roomies will know why this is such a big deal. Why the name “Package Deal”? Roommates and Package Deal kinda resonates for me. Coz having a roommate is not about having just a friend, or a foe or just another human being. It’s about sharing a million relations in 1000 sq feet rented apartment (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;the funny me!!!… Ok... I know, it didn’t tickle your bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I landed with the best deal.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Sharing that space is one helluva experience for me because: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;1. Foremost, sharing physical space with the unknown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;2. Breaking the ice. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Need to keep smiling and bring up small talks… it works&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;3. Arriving at a consensus as to how to live. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;sounds far fetched.. but yes.. there r a lot of things to decide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;4. Rating everybody on my Like-o-meter. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;the ratings keep fluctuating with every incident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;5. Coming to know they are so much like ME, yet there is so much of THEM in them (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I hope I am clear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;..) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;6. Cooking together. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;its really a bonding experience. Perfect time for small talks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;7. Finding so many ears to listen to How Crappy my day had been. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;10 ears and 5 words of cajoling can work wonders… I had 5 roomies... that’s y the count&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;8. “What to wear?”… the pressing issue easily solved (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;everybody just knew the answer to it … but to the other persons question&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;9. Shopping. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;with 6 females!!! It’s rampaging&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;10. Birthday surprises!!! (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;5 heads – nobody can plan better surprises&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;11. 5 handkerchiefs to wipe a single tear. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Everybody cared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;12. Making the kirana list. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;we have had specialists&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;13. Sharing secrets (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;6 girls…. One can not even imagine that there can be sooo much&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;14. Talks that lasted for more than 6 hours at a stretch (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;in broad daylight... the butt glued to the same position… we have the stamina and the topics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;15. Chatting away in the night about everything under the sun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;16. Dancing, playing antakshari with electricity gone, wrestling, Pjing. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;makes my heart smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;17. Blaming each other for every reason and still getting back together (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;this was the most amazing part… abuse to the hearts content... but still be in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;18. MARRIAGE (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;standing ovation plz… this topic is till the fav&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;19. Rock Solid support in time of need. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;whatever came… they always stood by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;20. Deciding what to cook (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;this decision needed time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;21. Knowing for sure if I am looking like shit or like a princess (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;5 confirmations are enough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;…) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;22. Advices, pep talks, abuses, fights, recommendations (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;life is easy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;…) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;23. Getting all geared up for their marriage ( &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I am still hunting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;…) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;24. Convincing that your BF is not such a prat after all (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;men will be men… and we are gonna hate them sometime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;…) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;25. The chain mails from office (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;within 6 hrs we exchanged more than 320 mails&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;26. House Cleaning spree (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;fun in the pure form&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;… ) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;27. Missing them (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;after a few got married&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;The list could just go on and on… I need to get my fingers off the keyboard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;2 years have been out of this world. A different life. A different experience. Its not easy to live together. But nothing can be more fun either. There were times when we may have wanted to kill each other or run away, but we always came back with more luv. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. ~Marcel Proust &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1373392933963695306?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1373392933963695306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1373392933963695306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1373392933963695306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1373392933963695306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/01/package-deal.html' title='Package Deal :) :) :) :) :) :)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3569974578195300250</id><published>2008-01-04T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T21:17:44.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'>4th Dimension</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;My mum is a firm believer in GOD. I don’t know what that really means or what actually is her belief. But she does believe that HE /SHE exists. There is a lot more on her platter. Not getting into that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;People pray. Some pray religiously. Everybody has his or her own reasons for it too. People go on fasts to please GOD, to fulfill a certain wish. Few of them will continue the fasts even after meeting their wishes, thinking its good. Some end it. Then a new wish a new fast. Whatever be it, everybody has a reason to look up to him/her. When I debate with Mum she gives me reasons, examples, of which some do suit my sensibilities, some seem totally illogical. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;That’s precisely why I pray to GOD. Or should I say, I believe in GOD (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;coz I don’t pray everyday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). There is a mystery behind HIM/HER, which nobody has yet been able to solve. For me GOD is that mystery, that faith. SHE (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my devil was female... my GOD is female too&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) gives my life the necessary 4th dimension. My Devil is self-destructive, but MY GOD is very powerful. SHE gives me reasons to believe that everything is going to be fine. SHE surpasses all logics and reason and adds that spice to my life. SHE is the voice in my head that keeps me going. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;SHE loves my crazy side. SHE hates me when I cry. And I am sure she loves dancing too. SHE is like my parents. Loves me. Punishes me when I disobey. Hates it when I don’t bother. SHE is a kiddo at heart. SHE needs attention too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I pray. I believe. I am also in awe. Coz for me GOD is extreme, very powerful, all knowing. GOD is the reason I believe anything and everything is possible. Man can do everything he wants, but GOD adds in that extra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;And this year she says she is gonna visit cloud number 9(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;yes she does tell me things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). And wherever she goes she takes me with her. And I am very human. I am on cloud number 9 only when things start happening the way I want them to. She is making sure everything happens my way. It’s only a few days the year has started and She has already reached cloud 7(&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;u guessed it right, things are going my way&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). Well I guess I am gonna have a helluva year. Yippee!!!!!!! Hurray!!!!!!!!!!!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I love my GOD.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe." - Saint Augustine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;God writes a lot of comedy... the trouble is, he's stuck with so many bad actors who don't know how to play funny. - Garrison Keillor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3569974578195300250?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3569974578195300250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3569974578195300250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3569974578195300250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3569974578195300250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2008/01/4th-dimension.html' title='4th Dimension'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2475697990571478322</id><published>2007-12-24T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T00:42:40.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought-for-the-blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;                                                      &lt;br /&gt;I have a decent collection of quotes: Primarily because I love reading them and I have net access for 5 days. Secondarily I have had the privilege of having no work for quite some time. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FYI, that’s history now…. I have landed with quite interesting work now… Yippee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I inaugurated my search for quotes, hunting for motivational and inspirational quotes ( &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I just love them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I was flabbergasted by the heap of quotes waiting to be read (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;3 Cheers for Google.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). More importantly the varied topics on which thoughts are quoted is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right from school days we must have come across quotes on life, honesty, motivation, attitude, right &amp;amp;wrong, and a lot of more serious stuff. We have heard a few on each of theses since then. As I said, the variety of topics is heart warming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can find a quote for anything from the morning sun to the bed tea/coffee. Coffee/Tea??? Yes!!! Well with all the coffee joints and all the vending machines in offices (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The lifeline for software engineers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), I guess coffee and tea definitely deserve this adulation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Tea...is a religion of the art of life.  ~Okakura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;  (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;and sometimes people say that I exaggerate… hah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Conscience keeps more people awake than coffee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [ &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;interesting one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a software engineer (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I seem to stress this a lot...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), how can I forget some quotes on our breed… Well, there are some pretty interesting takes on our profession and us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Programming is like sex.  One mistake and you have to support it for the rest of your life.  ~Michael Sinz &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [ &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;nobody else put forth the point SO RIGHT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Programmer - an organism that turns coffee into software.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Coffee runs in our blood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passion! Everybody has a passion. And everybody has heard loads on passion too. What I am talking about is, my passion, dance. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I haven’t learnt any form of dance… nor am I doing anything about it... I just love to shake my leg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;There are short cuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them.  ~Vicki Baum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I vouch for this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.  ~Mata Hari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traveling back to school days, I can remember all the autograph/slam books that we filled. Some of the favorite quotes at that time were on friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;There are big ships and small ships.  But the best ship of all is friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;so simply put&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Roses are red, violets are blue. Friends like you are very few.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Us innocent little brats&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Roses are red, violets are blue. Friends like you must be kept in zoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;By the smarter kids per say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the importance of friends in our life is profound, coz even today once in a while we still do quote it for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friendship isn't a big thing - it's a million little things.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quotes sometimes silly, sometimes exaggerated, hard hitting, sometimes just a matter of fact… But many a times it just soothes me… For me, if I am feeling low just reading a few good ones puts me on track… Maybe that’s just me… And sometimes they help a few of us show off some interesting thoughts on the status bar of gtalk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Quoting!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2475697990571478322?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2475697990571478322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2475697990571478322' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2475697990571478322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2475697990571478322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/12/thought-for-blog.html' title='Thought-for-the-blog'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1757507335639930844</id><published>2007-12-14T04:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T04:18:12.647-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Devil.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Am Empty Mind is a Devils Workshop!!! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;           Oh Yes it is! Adding to it I believe that the devil in my mind is the ultimate epitome (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ya ya... I know everybody feels that way&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). But My Devil Strongest (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Coz this is my blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Gosh!!! Its so much fun when I have a lot of things to do. I love myself then. People around me love me too (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;alirght, I am being self obsessed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). But I need to put my devil to sleep. I am just trying to sing a lullaby. (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bear Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;God help the Devil’s imagination. She can think crazy (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am a female, My devil cant be male&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). I am sure she possesses the ultimate destruction weapon. Damn its self destructive (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;em&gt; over exaggerate again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;). But she does keep pricking at my weaknesses( &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;no I am not publishing them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) Working as a software engineer (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I love my job&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;), I love the work I do. So whenever I am doing it My Devil falls into coma, not even sleep. Plus I know the exact words which pulls her out of it : “Mujhe Bore ho raha hai.” It seems to have a profound effect on her. Its instant awakening. And she is so active, she does not waste a single moment and starts using her weapon right way (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Damn Her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I must confess that I never realized why at times I behaved like a horrible child. I kept chanting the mantra and the Devil kept getting stronger. But I turned out to be stronger than that duh! Now I know the cause and effect. I need to keep doing things I like. The best part is there are a lot of things I like (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;self obsession again?.. Naah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Writing being one of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;This post is a result of this happy realization. My Devil is back in coma. Hurray!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Aint it cool? A few lines and She is off to sleep. Well today I just didn’t have any workto do. So I blurted out the horrible words. But I have found out the antibody for it. I am on the look out for a permanent vaccination]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1757507335639930844?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1757507335639930844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1757507335639930844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1757507335639930844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1757507335639930844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-devil.html' title='My Devil.'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-3379852981558505085</id><published>2007-12-08T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T08:06:50.841-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrating Commitment :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Marriages maybe made in heaven.. But they are celebrated right here!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;A marriage is always fun with all relatives around and hustle-bustle at its peak. It brings along with it a whole new drama. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming from a Mallu ( ok… malayalee) background, I have been only to marriages where after the pheras (similar to walking the aisle, in English) people have lunch then everybody goes back home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 years back I happened to land in a room full of marwaris. And now all of sudden they all seem to be getting engaged, married left right center ( and I am not exaggerating). 4 out of 6 are married/ engaged. (believe me now?).&lt;br /&gt;Well, having attended 2 marriages, it dawned upon a malayalee (me) that these people “celebrate” marriage. Its fun in its purest form! For a dance fanatic like me, sangeet is on the hit list. The amount of preparation and enthusiasm behind it is unbeatable. Right from the kiddo in the house to the elders in the family, everybody puts on the I-am-the-dancer hat. Some great person once said ‘Hard work never lets you down’, and in this case too the hard work is paid off and Sangeet night turns out to be the BEST of all the functions on the agenda. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pheras is “The Common” thing in all marriages. Of the weddings that I have had the privilege to attend , the panditijis ask the couple to take some oaths. We all had a nice laugh at some of them. They do sound funny for people my age (as in for young people ;) ). But that does add to the traditional flavor of the whole saga. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Competition. Yes! Popularly known as “Jutey Churana”. The bride’s family are on the look out to pick the grooms chappals, and we have the defendants in the form of the grooms family. I also had an opportunity to witness the war of a lifetime. Right from pulling and pushing to snatching and even biting. People do go to lengths to defend their honour! (and I do exaggerate!) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bidaai, even though it has the bride in tears, caught my attention. The ladies of the house sing special songs (which by the way will make even the toughest to shed a tear). I felt like being a part of a Sooraj Barjatya movie. Does “Sajan ghar mai chali” of HAHK ring a bell? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the bride walks in to the grooms place there is the pooja. A few other things are also done which signifies the importance of a girl in a family. The bride is definitely made to feel special. Then there are the numerous games pipelined for the bride and the groom. Everybody is cheering them up. The atmosphere is all charged up. It really is a cool way to make the bride comfortable in the new place and with all the new people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole celebration is a mix of tradition and fun. It is a chance where every one comes together and has fun together. It’s a celebration of a commitment. And what a celebration it is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oprah Winfrey said, “The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;These marriages epitomize this thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of fun. (That’s the bottom line)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-3379852981558505085?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3379852981558505085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=3379852981558505085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3379852981558505085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/3379852981558505085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/12/celebrating-commitment.html' title='Celebrating Commitment :)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-2086010193953000169</id><published>2007-11-15T03:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T03:08:09.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>F5... :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Well the Dreams post really got to me… with all the comments and off the blog discussions have put me in some other land … A land that is beyond my imagination right now…&lt;br /&gt;And a friend said with all these posts you seem like a sad person… not happy with life…&lt;br /&gt;WHOA!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to refresh!!! F5! F5!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What refreshes me? &lt;em&gt;(in random order)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Music&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(current fav.. Mauja hi Maujha from Jab We Met)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;My Books &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(love Harry Potter)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Tea &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(ginger mandatory)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Conversations &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(not the heavy dose… right now I am staying clear of them)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Shoppinggggggggg &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(All girls in unison say Hurray)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Dance &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Ahh!! The ultimate stress buster. Dance doesn’t care what the mood thinks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Laughing my head off with my roomies. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(nothing we talk makes sense. Sonica, Pinky, Renu, Khushi, Prachi... I love them all)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Just laughing my head off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking alone form the bus stop. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I sleep in the bus. The moment I get down I am not thinking anything and then slowly thoughts return. I love it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Mums half-sleepy hug when she sees me at the door step at midnight after I come home from Pune. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I feel safe. Moment of bliss)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Jab We Met!! &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Damn!! I love the movie.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;When my mobile rings and it’s a call form US. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Sejal calling)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Neha, Pallvai and me chatting and all the discussions which make us feel like angels on earth &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(we always end up screwing our lives with our over the top ideas about it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Fighting with Pritam. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I guess it will exhaust his patience soon)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;All the nautanki I do with Kunal. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(and he really is amazed at what new I can come up with)&lt;br /&gt;Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Tropical Iceberg of CCD.&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; (nasik CCD… me and my friends)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Make ups after the silly fights!!! &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(and with 6 roomies… what else can we expect.. Well Sonica needs a special mention here... She always takes the first step)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Going home to fried fish and lots of chicken &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( i live with veggies)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Yana. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(not another person… sizzlers!!!!!!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Shahid Kapoor &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(oooooooooo damn he is soooooooooooo cute)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;SMS from Bank&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;( your xyz salary has been credited into ur acoount.. RELIEF :)  )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Someone coming up and returning money which I had totally forgottena bout &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( I suck at managing my finance)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Sitting and cribbing how marriage is a big responsibility &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(singles discussing the same thing all over again)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Coffee break from work. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(although most of the time I am void of work)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Scanning through all the silly snaps I have clicked from my mobile&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; ( they make great memories)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding that exact shade of dress which I had in my mind &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( merawala greeeen!!! :) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Picking up a dress and realizing that it fits me RIGHT. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( with my size..  finding clothes of size is a miracle.. I do blv in GOD then)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A compliment. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(well it refreshes anybody)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list can go on…&lt;br /&gt;But I guess I can take my fingers off the keyboard… I have achieved what I set out to do.. Refresh myself….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Haa!!!!!!!!!! Life is beautiful!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding to the list .. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Writing a post on my blog…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures.  ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr., Life's Little Instruction Book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.  ~Robert Brault&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-2086010193953000169?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2086010193953000169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=2086010193953000169' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2086010193953000169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/2086010193953000169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/11/f5.html' title='F5... :)'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-7994959150802820110</id><published>2007-11-14T03:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T03:44:24.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;With Dreams Begin responsibiltities...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt of flying high,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I looked at the birds and sighed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;The Wright brothers dreamt of flying high,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;They built the plane and their dream soared high. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I know it seems like I have just picked it up from the books of a kindergarten student. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Rather Twinkle Twinkle is far better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Dreams! Everybody has them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Turn the pages of a slam book from school. “To be rich and famous”. Every alternate page will flaunt these famous words. It’s been 8 years since I left school. Have yet to meet the rich and famous. We can argue that was silly, it was school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Traveling back to the present. “Kuch karna hai yaar.” “This is not what I want to do.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Great!That’s good. Ask what is it that you want to do. And the answer is silence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Abhi socha nahi hai.. maybe this maybe that….Aage life bohot hai yaar… abhi se kya tension.. sochenge kuch…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;RIGHT!!! Ask parents!! They will give us the theory of tensions in precise words. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;If I am pointing a finger, 3 are pointing back at me. “Padhna hai Padhna hai.. aage padhna hai”. I wanted to do PG. There were some issues, yes. But the nail was that I never tried. I always had reasons to not give the exams. Dreamt of big colleges. Never woke up to them. Finding reason as to why I studying was not possible, I gave up.I was responsible for my dreams failing. Neither finance nor the prospect of shaadi… (Man what lame excuses I had).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are responsible for our own dreams. Dreams just don’t fulfill themselves while we are sleeping. I guess we need to wake up and take a step towards it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a real life story of a young man chasing his dreams with passion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Meet Yash Mody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;We both started with the same organization. We both quit. I went looking for another job. He went looking for his dreams. He wanted to be on his own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;A heart break. No job. Lost friends. I guess he had pretty reasons to fail. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;He didn’t.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;With some hefty job offers he could have just given up and started the same life all over again. He had faith.Started on his own. Started a consulting agency. Today he is training engineers in every big organization. Today he is hiring. And he is still dreaming. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I still have some friends who want to be on their own. I don’t really see them doing anything about it. And most of the times I feel it’s the cluelessness about where and how to start that pulls us back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;As of now I have no BIG dreams. I am yet to find out what I really want. When I mean dreams I am not refrerring only to the flamboyant dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a dream. I want to be physically fit. Healthy.&lt;br /&gt;Stop laughing!!!&lt;br /&gt;People say I am thin. Very thin. I know absolutely that my stamina is poor.&lt;br /&gt;I started with my gym and healthy eating habits. A month and it’s down the drains.&lt;br /&gt;All I needed was some dedication. I needed to be responsible.&lt;br /&gt;I will start again. Hopefully this time history won’t repeat itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no rights to write this post. I am no preacher or motivation GURU. This blog is just a relief for my over worked thoughts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;I have a few questions… Someday I hope to get them answered…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Is it mandatory to dream?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;What if we tried but still the dream is distant?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;What if a new dream is better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Are dreams such a big deal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be pushed by your problems. Be led by your dreams.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-7994959150802820110?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7994959150802820110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=7994959150802820110' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7994959150802820110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/7994959150802820110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/11/dreams.html' title='Dreams!!!'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-5146990801949977</id><published>2007-10-16T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T02:17:13.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Everyday I wake up to a new horizon,&lt;br /&gt;New bliss new joy.&lt;br /&gt;For a wonderful life I make great plans&lt;br /&gt;Lock it up and simply enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I want to be a nice person,&lt;br /&gt;True at heart and mind.&lt;br /&gt;But I go ahead and complain about someone&lt;br /&gt;Make a remark; Be unkind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I decide to reach for my goal,&lt;br /&gt;Work hard and stretch.&lt;br /&gt;I back off with fear; Make a new excuse&lt;br /&gt;And make a new sketch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I mean to remember GOD,&lt;br /&gt;And bow my head in prayer.&lt;br /&gt;I never find a few moments to thank LORD.&lt;br /&gt;I neglect to adhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I resolve to practice what I preach.&lt;br /&gt;To think and then be.&lt;br /&gt;I go ahead and be a hypocrite all the way,&lt;br /&gt;With rules bending for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I know the right from the wrong,&lt;br /&gt;And the path cut for me.&lt;br /&gt;But I spend a day again with the same old song,&lt;br /&gt;And walk a path of the lazy me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I decide to make it right everyday,&lt;br /&gt;Give my best to all I say.&lt;br /&gt;Today I decide to make it right everyday,&lt;br /&gt;And live a great life all the way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The bad news is time flies. The good news is you're the pilot. (Michael Althsuler)&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-5146990801949977?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5146990801949977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=5146990801949977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/5146990801949977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/5146990801949977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/10/everyday.html' title='Everyday'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-4264401788516851654</id><published>2007-10-01T03:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T03:29:59.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Flirtation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; …. Attention without intention&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Being a book fanatic I have read all kinds of books, even the Slef-Help genre books which seem to be the current rage. ( &lt;em&gt;No..I am not diverting from the topic&lt;/em&gt;.) Since some time I am wondering why there are no “Ready to flirt in 10 days” kind books.&lt;br /&gt;And why do I want to read it? This is the only topic I have never read anything about. (&lt;em&gt;Khud ke mu miya mitthu&lt;/em&gt;). Well PJ’s apart. In 24 years ( &lt;em&gt;ah I reveal my age&lt;/em&gt;) my paths have crossed many a flirts and many wannabes too I have tried my hand ( &lt;em&gt;mouth and brain&lt;/em&gt;) at it too. And I am really good (&lt;em&gt;when the opposite sex is really dumb&lt;/em&gt;). But I have met some real smoothies and some real terrors at flirting.&lt;br /&gt;Coming to think of it. What makes somebody a pro and what makes somebody a total looser at this wooing-art. Can flirting be learnt? Or it something you are gifted with.&lt;br /&gt;The same pick-up-line or whatever it is called and 2 different people. When you hear it from one you fell like responding back coaxing for more. But with the other case all we can do is role our eyes and create an expression which radiates “get lost looser”.&lt;br /&gt;Since I started pondering on this question (&lt;em&gt;I am on bench and got noting better to do&lt;/em&gt;) and really didn’t have my own answers I thought of enlightening myself with the valuable inputs from the divine people that surround me. (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;and I had to bang my head for this too..everybody was out with the definition of flirting when my question was&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What according to you makes a good flirt"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Replies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yash : someone who is &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;warm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; and nice at the same time not too clingy&lt;br /&gt;Dhanveer : woman pleaser, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;sweet talker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;,super &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;diplomat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; can please every person or has awesome time management skills&lt;br /&gt;Harshal : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;presence of mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Kshitij : &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;seducing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.. givin more attention..&lt;br /&gt;Friend : One who manages to &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;scare&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;me gutless&lt;br /&gt;Neha : the ability to flirt &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;without being cheap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;..Person should be charming and not desperate&lt;br /&gt;Pritam : &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;one who can leave his or her thoughts in the other persons mind&lt;/em&gt; …&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kunal : Must &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;make it obvious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renu : a good flirt generally &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;feels a lot good abt himself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; / herself...they think themselves better than others and &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;transmit this same thing to others&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; when they flirt....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Yadnee : one who would make the other person feel like he/she is the only one getting the speaicl attention&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Some special insights for guys…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Supriya : etiquttes and chivalry&lt;br /&gt;Sonica : being caring and helpful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;So I guess that flirting is not congenital. Yippeeeeeeee. Maybe now I will give it a good shot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I will have to be a warm nice sweet talking diplomatic person with presence of mind who can seduce/scare the opposite sex ( I am straight u c) without being cheap in such a way that I can leave my thoughts in the other persons mind and make sure that my flirting is obvious!!!!!!!!!! Phew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And at the beginning and end of it be feeling good about myself and transmitting the feeling too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Now thats what I call hard work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;If you're a gifted flirt, talking about the price of eggs will do as well as any other subject. " ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-4264401788516851654?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4264401788516851654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=4264401788516851654' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4264401788516851654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4264401788516851654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/10/flirtation.html' title='The Art!!!'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-4550587786068956390</id><published>2007-08-23T05:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T05:51:40.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love You Always!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A look at me and he lost his heart&lt;br /&gt;Love at first sight for him it was&lt;br /&gt;With an overwhelm he stared at me&lt;br /&gt;“You are going to be my life”, believed he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His presence I began to realize&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I saw him I broke into a smile.&lt;br /&gt;A bond so special was on its way&lt;br /&gt;Always together happy and gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Best of friendship we began to share&lt;br /&gt;All through the years he loved me he cared&lt;br /&gt;He the saint was, I the rebel&lt;br /&gt;But my whims and fancies he understood so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was his life, his purpose of existence&lt;br /&gt;My wish his command, my life his dream&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I ignored his presence&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I dint bother it seemed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, he rejoiced in my joys, even when he was fighting his demons&lt;br /&gt;Encouraging me to live my dreams, to smile in all seasons&lt;br /&gt;When all was low for me, and seemed that nobody bothered&lt;br /&gt;I bounced back I fought, all I needed was his “I love you sweetheart”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A day came to move away from him, to fly with my own wings&lt;br /&gt;He gave a hug and a smile, for me that said everything.&lt;br /&gt;Many a times on my new found path I forgot to look back,&lt;br /&gt;But like always he was there my strength my pillar, where I could fall back…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my friend to tell him I was in love&lt;br /&gt;To tell him how this man loved me how he cared&lt;br /&gt;That no one other than him had ever made me feel special this way.&lt;br /&gt;He just took my hand and told me I was blessed to feel this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came back with a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;I came back to my friend&lt;br /&gt;With open arms he soothed my pain.&lt;br /&gt;All through he was my pillar my strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I know he is;&lt;br /&gt;The one who loves me most&lt;br /&gt;The one who never forgets to say “love you sweetheart”&lt;br /&gt;The one who can perk me up in time of pain&lt;br /&gt;The one who always reminds me I am his life’s biggest gain&lt;br /&gt;The one who still scolds me for my irrationality&lt;br /&gt;The one who still understands my stupidity&lt;br /&gt;The one I know I can always fall back on&lt;br /&gt;The one who has made me what I am&lt;br /&gt;The one who I love the most&lt;br /&gt;My friend, My critique, My gift from GOD.&lt;br /&gt;I am a daughter, proud to call him my DAD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Any man can be a father...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;... It takes someone special to be a dad. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-4550587786068956390?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4550587786068956390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=4550587786068956390' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4550587786068956390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/4550587786068956390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/08/love-you-always.html' title='Love You Always!!!'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-207012378221788160.post-1200543336324341691</id><published>2007-08-10T04:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T04:10:04.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Make it worth watching!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One day, your life will flash in front of your eyes...Make it worth watching.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wake up!!!!! Its 6... You will miss your bus.”&lt;br /&gt;“Its just 6!!!!”, I pulled up the cover over my head. But wait a minute, My mum??? Its not the alarm yelling. Its my mum. Confused, I get out of the covers. Yes its mum and hey who’s this lying beside me.&lt;br /&gt; ‘Me????? Whoa what’s up???’ “What are you doing here?”&lt;br /&gt;“Oh Hello!!!You are the intruder not me.”, says the very familiar looking face. Younger face.&lt;br /&gt;“What is happening? Will somebody explain?”&lt;br /&gt;“Nothing much. Sick and tired of your cribbing I called you back. I guess you like this life better. We will live this again”&lt;br /&gt;Am I drunk? No. I don’t drink.&lt;br /&gt;While she gets ready for school I admire the room. The posters, the drawings…well, she is interesting.&lt;br /&gt;As we say bye to mom I realize she can’t see me. I guess 2 of me would be a major torture for her.&lt;br /&gt;As we board the bus she yells out “hey”.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey Raji”, the remaining shriek.&lt;br /&gt;“You are a nosy bunch”, I claim.&lt;br /&gt;“Well I am better than you. All you do is board your bus and doze off. You don’t even smile at the people who have been boarding the same bus with you since more than a year. You are such a snob. I hope u remember smiling wont cost you a dime. Even if it does you are paid enough.”… She lectures.&lt;br /&gt;“No I am not a snob. And right you know about money!!!”… I retort.&lt;br /&gt;“Well I can manage with Rs.100 a month. And I do have savings”…. exclaims with a triumphant look on her face.&lt;br /&gt;I hate her.&lt;br /&gt;As we cross across to the school there are a million hi’s and smiles exchanged.&lt;br /&gt;She stops. Looks into my eyes and says “You used to love this. What happened?”&lt;br /&gt;Then again back to her snobbish self scans me and remarks, “Look what have you done to me.”&lt;br /&gt;We go through all the lectures. Finally, its lunch time. We sit together gobble up our Tiffin’s and then take off to play lock and key. The recess bell gives away. Huffing and puffing we rush our way to the classroom.&lt;br /&gt;“Half an hour lunch time”, she quotes. “You don’t even take a walk after your lunch. Correct me if I am wrong, but you have a longer lunch break, don’t you?”&lt;br /&gt;I just ignore her remark and look at a small tyre forming at my waist. “I have loads of work to do”, that’s the best I say.&lt;br /&gt;After school we rush to her tuition. After class is over she and her friends gang up in a corner and chat incessantly. I nudge her to want to go home.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as we reach home she dumps her bag. I lie down. She yells “Hello!!! I don’t have time for this. Mom will allow me to play out only for another hour.”&lt;br /&gt;“What? Are you not tired?”&lt;br /&gt;“Tired? Of what? I just sat my way though the lectures. Oh!!! I guess you must be tired since we didn’t have AC. Or that we played lock and key during lunch break. Get up move your growing butt. 1 yr of sitting in front of the computer in the AC has made you so lazy. NOW LETS GO. I don’t have time for this.”&lt;br /&gt;She plays lock and key again .Its the current favorite. As I watch her play I realize I enjoyed this so much. Her life is so much more exciting than mine. Even though I have money to spend it on whatever pleases my senses.&lt;br /&gt;“Rajiiiiiiiiiii. Its time come down. You have homework to finish.” A yelling mom makes her way to the terrace.&lt;br /&gt;Another 15 min pass by. We make our way home. As she is freshening up I make myself comfortable in front of the TV. As I am scanning with the remote, that oh-i-am-so-smart thing comes up to me and says “TV? Ur favorite pastime. What a waste. Lets go. We will do something you like.”&lt;br /&gt;As we reach her room she pulls out her drawing board and crayons. My face lights up. We sit and color for a while. Then as we are done with it. She starts with her homework. I just sit beside her looking at her.&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you staring?”&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t you get bored of doing the same things over and over again?”&lt;br /&gt;“Same things?” she questions as if I said something horrendous. “I play lock and key, sometimes we skip, sometimes we paly hide n seek. We like doing different stuff”, she grins.&lt;br /&gt;“School everyday? Isnt it boring?”&lt;br /&gt;“Have you gone insane? If I don’t go to school how will I become a software engineer, like you.”&lt;br /&gt;The moment she said this she froze. With a look of terror in her eyes she screamed “I don’t want to be you. I don’t want to be an all-time-cribb. I don’t want to stop playing. I want to live. I have an amazing life now. Please don’t spoil it.. Please don’t spoil it. Please don’t spoil it. Please don’t spoil it… ”&lt;br /&gt;I shut my eyes tight. I can’t do this to her.&lt;br /&gt;“Wake up …. You will miss your bus”&lt;br /&gt;With an aching head I open my eyes. My roommate is yelling at me.&lt;br /&gt;I sit up. Look around at the mess in the room. As I turn I see her sobbing “Please don’t spoil my life. I want to grow up to be you but not this way. With me your life was worth a replay. Our older self should also feel like visiting you and not just me.”&lt;br /&gt;My roommate comes back and she is gone.&lt;br /&gt;An hour later.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey!”  I smile at a colleague at the bus stop. He smiles back “hey.. Good morning”.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am going to have many more good mornings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/207012378221788160-1200543336324341691?l=thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1200543336324341691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=207012378221788160&amp;postID=1200543336324341691' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1200543336324341691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/207012378221788160/posts/default/1200543336324341691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thought-for-the-blog.blogspot.com/2007/08/make-it-worth-watching_10.html' title='Make it worth watching!!!'/><author><name>...Raji...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17838758341684829582</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry></feed>
